#6 Entangled Cities

Sára - A gentle narrative about curiousity, home and belonging.

Entangled Cities image credit: Sára Lapinová.

Transcript: Stepping off the bus, with tangled hair and crescents beneath her tired eyes, I couldn’t wait to show her my city. I stepped on my tip toes to reach for a hug, falling over my words like I always do when I’m flustered, my accent becoming thicker like it always does when I feel at home. It’s not a romantic story. I do my best tour guide impression, showing her The Birdcage where I change between a pop art dream queen and a noir femme fatale, dancing with beautiful strangers covered in glitter. I think of when I visited her city. Her city was a hot summer, watermelon juice dripping down our crop tops, walking barefoot and getting giddy in the summer rain. Soft touches and shy cheek kisses, teaching me how to dance and my feet failing me just like my words. We get a coffee and sit by the river, the one by Playhouse. I take a polaroid photo of her because I’m sentimental, although they’re probably terrible for the environment, and think that to me, she’ll now always be a part of my city.