Wind Was Picking Up

Wind was picking up

on that late evening in late August

on Hviezdoslav Square

where I fled

and felt an alien

Young people

incredibly happy, optimistic

huge statutes of

huge female groins

tourists

taking pictures

tough tattooed men

shaved hair

women in supershort skirts

hair all bleached

art galleries with hammocks

arty crowds playing table tennis

listening to hyper recent

electronica

feeling that everything was possible

life in purest form

my ugly hometown

has changed

finally

irreversibly

 

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