Promenade

It's hot in the city--hot like the inside of a toaster oven.  During the day, there is a hot wind that stirs up the dust and car exhaust into a noxious soup.  Shade is found underneath a few struggling trees; the rest of the city roasts in the stark sunlight.  Communist architecture featured block-like buildings and a lot of vast open squares with assorted statues.  It looks good in photographs, but is less enjoyable in real life.

In the evening, the city lets out its hot breath with a woooosh and everything cools down.  The city slows down.  People come out of their apartments and houses to promenade. It's too hot to sit inside.  The parks, which are quite lovely, fill up with parents pushing babies in prams, toddlers riding trikes, kids on roller blades and bikes, and teenagers getting horizontal on park benches.   

Out for a stroll with everyone else, I feel like I belong.