The music here is akin to dropping kitchen utensils on a tile floor. People fuse together slowly attempting to move to the beat but a melody is required for that, and here there is not one to be found.
I don’t exactly know why I’m here.. at this concert, in this European city even. It’s all a bit random, even more senseless is the strange satisfaction I have during it all. It’s not because I’ve found belonging here per se, I mean I’m wearing a strapless red and white polka dot dress amongst Warsaw’s best hipsters in an all black collage of strong beer and unnecessary winter hats in spring. I’m the easiest Waldo to spot.
Yet, I’m welcomed all the same, that’s the fascinating part. There’s a place- a place for this strange music, and a place for salsa dancing on a Tuesday night, for Jewish bakeries, and quaint bookstores, and yes, a place for a girl who doesn’t yet know where she belongs in it all. There’s a place in this city. Endless places that I continue to fill.
Art by: Heather Day