The night was falling as I crossed one of the city’s two rivers. The nighttime skyline view was breath-taking. An accidental photo I took of a fisherman next to a love message painted on the ground will stay in my mind forever. I felt like I was in a fairy-tale.
Standing on the edge of the city’s main park on top of a hill, I glared into the darkness, momentarily entwined with sparks of light. I imagined I was facing an ocean. Overwhelming freedom was running through my veins; the place was infused with inspiration.
Nighttime filled the surroundings with mystery, but daylight brought disappointment at their greyish palette. The buildings, monumental during the night, emerged into pale, battered structures. The two rivers came together more out of inevitability than beauty. Dirt and dust seemed to dominate the atmosphere. Discouraged to the depth of my heart, I vowed never to return.
Time had passed, and I did return – again alone. I stepped of the bustling bus station, glanced at the sunlit facades, heard the familiar banter in the language I loved – and knew instantly I was home.
The streets led me on to the main park as the sun was falling. I caught the final scarlet-painted accord from the top of the hill. The rivers came together majestically in twilight. The traffic swirled smoothly over the bridges. The people around me silenced as they absorbed the divinity of the moment. Everything was familiar and yet so new at the same time. I was holding my breath. It was my city.
The city where two rivers meet. The city where I left my heart. The city that echoes your name.
The city that reminds me of you.