A beautiful evening

It is almost time for the Thursday evening drink with the neighbors at the elementary school. (1) I look through my window. Kids are skateboarding. (2) Someone is picking up fruit at the cooperative. (3) People like to meet there after work to socialize with the urban farmers. (4) A man cycles (5) through the blossoming orchards (6) and passes the new houses. (7) Most of them feature an integrated greenhouse providing families with fresh herbs and vegetables.

A woman comes out of the grocery store (8) and walks straight to the kindergarten (9), – both housed in a former residential building. I take a look at the long gallery (10) that crosses the whole neighborhood connecting various cultural venues, and I notice people gathering at the entrance of the shiny Arts centre – there is a show tonight. I should hurry to get there on time so I take the cupcakes I promised to the old ladies from the co-housing (11) next door and leave.

Back to grandpa’s

They said the best way to visit the area would be by bicycle. I took one of the many paths and entered the neighborhood. It was a nicely inhabited post-something landscape: lots of trees, various crops, old and new buildings, careless and beautiful silence. But there was something uncommon about this place. It was difficult to grasp its structure- buildings formed a collage of ongoing activities and unusual streetscapes. Nevertheless, everything was perfectly organized (12), and improvised jazz (13)…

I was here to find grandpa’s house where I used to spend holidays as a child. Confused I continued my search in this lively neighborhood. Greenhouses everywhere (14), wind turbines (15), covered markets (16). Suddenly a train (17) crosses the pastoral landscape, its productive gardens (18), workshops of craftsmen, and spaces for culture. Next to a public library (20), I notice something familiar. Yes, it’s the Grandpa’s house (20) that I remember from my childhood!