I love this city

A declaration of love to the City.
The first time I was there in late autumn flowing into the winter. We lived in nature, woke up with a view of the lake in a pine forest, and then for a few days came to the very center. There was a Christmas tree with an angel on top, first snow, narrow streets and very nice and nice. Then the city was for me only the central square, the Voestrai and the Republic of Zarechye. And the Dublin Pub, where I drank Irish coffee with chocolate and hid from the first snow. Then on the magic tile, where I could poke the desire, I wanted to go back.
And she returned. Then the city became summer. These were the ten days of the School for Human Rights, full of new people, tasks, things. And it was a new city. Morning and evening. In the morning I went out early, with a big white cup of coffee, bought a hot chocolate bun, strolled through the narrow streets of the district, fed cats, looked at the new sun over St. Anne. And in the evening after classes I read on the benches among street musicians.
A year later the school was different. There was more free time in the afternoon, so the city became tourist, noisy, with hundreds of voices and strangers. And it's very warm in the evenings, with coffee shops, cafes, coffee, tea, dessert, talk.
And then there was a homework program on gender. And the city became a native. Every month for the weekend, the same route, the same people who are already trembling. Same place. Our House, our kitchen in it, our school, library. And then a lot of new knowledge, new revelations, new places, movies until night with a discussion, and then again in the morning again, the way home on foot across the border and into the snow and rain.
The city became different. It was autumn. With fog, small drops of rain and penetrated into the lungs during breathing. It was winter. When you leave the Vostra brahma in the center, and there is silence, snowflakes and Christmas lights all around. He was frosty. When the snow was creaking underfoot, and we were drinking hot wine by the cafe window. It was spring when the winter began to recede, and around it was a fair of masters, songs, dances and ginger beer. And then the city again became an early summer. When you sit under the starry sky on the mountain and look at the lights of the airplanes, when in the open cafe jazz and blues, when you are so young and completely unmoved. This was an incomplete year of new discoveries. The city became so close that it sprouted inside. And you are already perfectly well on your way to go to cut the road. you are quite uninteresting pritoprimechtelnosti, but rather back alleys, alleys and street installations. You know what and where you like to buy and eat, what to listen to, what to see. Do you remember where the best tea shop is, where candies are sold for weight, and where it's best to buy pieces for needlework. There are favorite Boksto Dvaras. There where so magically breakfast with open windows on the city, where wonderful pancakes with mushrooms and cappuccino. Or favorite Cactus, where up to two nights you can drink Guinness and listen to music. And also the randomly found bar "Mojito", where this most mojito species 15, as well as a DJ and a disco in the next room. Or a terrace with soft sofas under the open sky and fine white wine. And "Bohemia", where once stopped Karatkevich. And my beloved Kozi, where you can send postcards for free, throwing them in a box to send greetings to any country in the world. Or mint Vinetu, second-hand books, library and cafe in one person. With such cinnamon pies and mint tea that you want to sell a soul for them. Dozens of places where we were, left a part of ourselves, enjoyed life and were happy.
This city, like no other, except that in which I live, in me to the end. Because I recently thought that in the city in time I was more likely than in my native capital, which I do not love madly for its noise, pathos and speed. Yes, and go there two times closer to Minsk. This city I love the very love that is hard to name. He is so much native that when I return there, I know that I'm at home.
And nothing else matters.