Magic from Belgrade
Some moments, some memories
Hello You,
I’ve been away for a while and I’m feeling the urge to apologise for it, not because I don’t believe in taking time away, repeatedly, and as often as one needs, but because I’m trying to root this space in reliability, consistency and some predictability, which to me means, taking breaks, but letting you know that I’m taking one. To be fair, this break wasn’t a very intentional one for me. One week, I was feeling like I had too much on my plate to write, and then before I knew it, three months has passed by and here we are now.
This past summer has been a whirlwind for me. It’s felt like the summer of feeling raw, excited, vulnerable, sometimes disappointed, over and over again. But today, I’m bringing you some moments of magic, from something magical this summer. I’m keeping it simple, as I dip my toes back into being with you in this space.
Im sitting cross-legged, leaning against the boundary fence of the park, watching these two people I’ve met just yesterday dance with abandon, something in between salsa and swirling, but mostly swirling and giggling and throwing their heads back in big laughs. The packet of salt sticks makes it to my hands, I grab a few and pass it on, as it the etiquette of such setting. My hear is bursting with joy, watching these two dance. Watching the gang of many faces, some I know, others I know only from face, and others are entirely new, also jiggle to the music, pass on drinks. Therapists taking themselves not seriously at all. The lightness is contagious, my heart has craved it, to be surrounded with people who understand the weight of what I do, share it, and shake it with a swirl and a jiggle, who show me lightness when I can’t find it. Which is often. What I do isn’t meant to be a done alone. It takes a village, they say. Is this what it feels like to find a home in strangers? I’m mildly amused by my tendency to romantisize joy.
I’ve chased sunsets and sunrises my entire life; over hilltops, abandoned buildings, seasides, from my bedroom window, on a random evening drive.
And now here I am, watching the the sun set with its unusual, and forever breathtaking flare, over the rivers River Dunabe and River Sava. I’m sitting on the ledge boundrying the park/fortress surrounded by lovers, families, friends who seem to come here out of habit, some tourists, other usuals. The sun descends into the grey, cloudy horizon, leaving streaks of orange behind. I feel at home in who I am, and so expansive. This is my favourite place to be.
We walk down the cobbled street gawking at stunning, designer dresses, pieces of art flaunting in quaint window shops, and make it to the ice cream shop, same as yesterday. I know it’s only day two but this is starting to feel like a bit of a lunch time ritual and I’d day there’s going to be a day three. I order a lime sorbet, perch up on a stool, and get to the know these beautiful women I’m surrounded by a bit more, amazed at their lives, their stories, their love for what they do, basking in their energy that seems to awaken something inside of me - my passion for how big the world is, an endlessness of pivots and possibilities.
The softest freaking breads, and juiciest pastas I’ve had in a long time. I wish I could pack these up and take these home. (Did I try proceed to eventually shove a loaf of fresh bread in my suitcase, and take it out after 20 hours of travel time? Yes, Yes I did.)
The city lights dance in the water, humming with the music of the boats lining the banks. I’m surrounded by swaying bodies, encompassing music, soft wind, conversations of new friends about old places as I lean across the rails of the boat, watching the red and yellow and orange of the city flicker in the water, brightening up the night. The sharp edges of the lights, bleeding into the black blue water.
It’s started to drizzle, but the world around me seems unbothered; locals walking their dogs, tourists looking awed, some like me cross legged on beaches, others dragging heaps of shopping. I watch people come and go from the huge bookstore across from where I’m sitting, listening to the most beautiful violin played my the street musician and I’m overjoyed. What a place, this is the third bookstore I’ve come across on this street, as yet. I think I crossed a few more on the other side yesterday. Each one of them huge, beautiful, some rustic, some modern and new. What a place.
