It turned out that because of a conglomerate of unfortunate circumstances I won’t go to Poland this summer. It hurts me dearly, as I will miss two weddings that I really wanted to attend. I am also if only a little bit annoyed with my multiple fails on the logistics side of things. Hazards of the job, one could say – or lack of thereof.
Despite all the peculiarities which differ them, big cities ultimately have a lot in common: the overwhelming rush, the squeaks of car horns, the men and women in suits, the women with children, the hippies in parks, the intelligentsia in bookshops. Street musicians are yet another essential in that urban landscape. If you’ve followed the blog for a while you might have noticed that I have quite a soft spot for them. Today I’m presenting you with yet another wonder I’ve encountered.
I must admit I used to be rather suspicious of Instagram. I did believe that its sole purpose was to enable absolutely anybody to instantly share the pictures of their food or of themselves in the lift – and to twist them up with filters to make them feel like art. Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing bad in it, it’s just nothing I would be interested in. Then, one day, convinced by an Instagram-addicted friend, I gave it a go – and I was stunned by what I found. It turned out that Instagram is full of wonderful photography.
A year ago I wrote that the beginning of a new year never brings anything new to me, and thus the excessive celebration of it feels redundant. Well, the celebrations still feel redundant, but the beginning of 2017 is bringing a tonne of changes – that in itself being the first of them. What else is changing?
I’m in Moscow now. My first week here has been great, more details to follow very soon. For now – a postcard from my holiday in Poland.
I have just moved out of Edinburgh. Forever. I don’t think it has fully hit me yet. Edinburgh has been the first stop in my independent, almost grown-up life. This is where I’ve learnt that moving to a foreign country is not as easy as it seems (and that, quite frankly, it’s a rather traumatic experience), but that it is worth every single minute it; and that you cannot really run away from yourself, no matter how far you go or how hard you try; and that the world is full of so many different people that you don’t have to try to fit in anywhere, as there will always be someone compatibly quirky; and that the more diverse your closest circle, the better; and all sorts of other truisms that you are aware of, but don’t fully realise when you’re nineteen and freshly out of a small town in Poland (no matter how well-travelled and well-read you are then).