Tuesday 7 August 2007

Cambridge

There is something special about this town. Something that makes me want to go there as often as I can and allows me to brave the streets crowded with tourists (it's the Asians, as usual, but also many Portuguese and Spanish speakers this year). I do not consider myself a tourist, it is my town, it has a special place in my heart. Every year it waits for me patiently to come and then welcomes me and wraps me in its snugly, historical, romantic atmosphere. It is like an old friend to me. But I really mean the city itself here, not the people- they are just there, and I am not sure whether they add to or spoil the atmosphere of it all. There are lots of them and they are loud, but they can be also interesting sometimes- I like to watch them...
I have a favourite bookstore in Cambridge and on the top floor it has a cafe. I enjoy picking up a book and taking it there to read and to observe other people sitting in the cafe at the same time. They are my background and sometimes I just stop reading for a moment and try to analyse them. They all have their own lives, their own different stories, we all do in fact. But by sitting in that cafe, at that particular moment our stories become interwoven. They are the background for my story and I am the background for theirs- it is really quite amazing when you think about it...
The couple in front of me- the guy doing all he can to sound witty and interesting and to become a part of the life of the pretty girl who is sitting there with him. The noisy English girls giggling over their bags full of shopping- perfectly happy, their heads full of nonsense. The Asian family- they are really grasping- a father treating his four daughters to some hot chocolate, they look so happy, he obviously feels out of place but is content to just watch his girls. And then the three French girls sitting next to me. Completely oblivious of their noisy background, of the chatty British- they are laughing and playing cards together, occasionally make a remark in their pretty language...
Everyone, everything fits together here. And then there is the place, this particular town that makes it possible for all these people, and me among them to come together and just be, be a part of the whole...
This beautiful town, full of Roman walls, the universities bursting with their heritage, the stunning old architecture, the cute bridges, the narrow winding streets...

6 comments:

Magda said...

You should become a writer. When you be back I will encourage you to do so:)

D. said...

Thanks Madzia, but I think I enjoy writing too much to become a writer ;)
It's more like a therapy for me...
Hope you're having a lovely summer!
xxx

Anonymous said...

Hi there:) Magda is right, you have to do something about your talent. This post is just amazing, the way you write, oh:) for me it is like reading a novel. I hope I will find one written by you one day;)

Anonymous said...

Hey I am not anonymous, it's a mistake, oh I am a stupid girl;)

D. said...

LOL!!!
No, you are not!
And thanks, I'm glad you like it Verona, but it really is just a result of 'one of those days' when I simply feel the metaphor in the air and I can't help writing stuff like that...
I am no writer, to be sure.
Take care!

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