Novi Sad, Serbia

clean skin and white clothes. Sitting in sunlight, leaf shades crossing face lines. Look up to sky and clouds, the only view from the seat on a 12th floor. Cherries in syrup, eat with a spoon then a glass of water. A welcome to new guests. Follow traditions, meet the family, feel the warmth of a happy home. A buzz of movement, no-one in the same room, trying to keep one conversation. Changes, children, movement of people.

Skin on sheets, heat of an August night. Boats in the park and the walk to a tower block. Shower to cleanse and a bath to relax. Talking for communication, communicating for love. Clean clothes, not mine, tshirt tied for a skirt and sandals on brown legs. Watermelon 20c a kilo, fresh peaches and fallen pears. Scrambled eggs for breakfast, cooked with dried bacon and onion. Strong coffee, served to me in the bath. Water comes up through the drain on the floor, I mop it with the ragged cloth. A child eats solemnly in the kitchen, a conquered breakfast, a newly mastered skill. The morning sun shines on his face.

One day rest in Novi Sad