Thursday, January 31, 2008
Once upon a time in a far away past ...
people were moving to a part of the citty no one wanted to move to. And so did I. It was cheap, kinda central, kinda not stressfully-fancy, and one could get out of it with the trains rather quickly.
Getting to know people and talking about where you live was always a bit of a challenge. In the beginning you were admitting to do some kind of long-term social-studies project there, that's why.
Then some friends lived there, too, probably in the same house - so why bother moving?
Then you've been away for a year. Coming back, and actually being quite happy to be in your place again - so why bother moving?
Then you realize that some things changed while you were gone. Someone was killed in the park you went jogging in, and on the other side of the street, a new café had opened its doors, where they are reading literature. And they did something to the park, something with fresh, new flowers, and there is this nice little art gallery, and there is more blood on the floor in front of the trainstation, right next to the phone booth. Also, some new neighbours moved in. And there is this tiny little man on your shoulder that says - why bother moving? There are few places in this country that feel more "real" than this one.
Even if a coin has a harsh and ugly side, too, it still keeps its value somehow.