Home again

She was sitting on a picnic bench, alone.

The weather had turned again. It was snowing and a light carpet covered the otherwise neon-specked collection of expired project.

Now Central and Eastern Europe it stood for republics bridging investment East. Business was good; the nerds were moving in. Things hadn’t changed.

Her pulse was high and her breathing cut up; fear had found her again. But that was the excess and the solitude - it was a New Year after all, and the City was waiting but again she drifted. Some things hadn’t changed: the familiar smell of pollution, which like a father’s aftershave recalled childhood; the simplicity of cement.

Businessmen brought money and with money came a cornucopia of twists and perks, unexpected invitations to colorful events full of people you saw on television. The mood felt new as well. It covered the harder surface and the end result was a blend of tough-skinned pessimism and contagious happiness; hopelessness and a chronic propensity to distribute energy.