By night Krakow is sleepless and pensive. By day it's brimming with restless energy.
The cafes are calm and whisper with quiet conversation. The windows small peeking holes into a still snippet of the moving world.
Maybe it’s better to not be able to speak. Becoming a part of this world would destroy the magic strangeness and separation that it still embodies. It could become too ordinary and disappear. For now it's a distant memory of a world I never knew.
The streets are lined with cobblestone walkways and ancient churches on every corner. Shops are modern and ageless. Every corner has a store with fresh rolls and cheese. The food is abundant with natural smells and tastes of trees, life and water instead of a coating of chemicals and preservatives.
There is a lively atmosphere. The abundance of bookstores is thrilling. The cold is forgettable on these streets and the smell of coal most present before dawn on the first day of arrival.
The center square is glowing with preparation for a concert. Every trip there takes me past the Krakow philharmonic. The music store is filled with people both in the recorded and printed music sections. The morning radio breathes with music still unfamiliar to me, and understands its role as an entity above others, deserving of ultimate and complete attention.
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