NICO | GALOPPO || journal

As the sun was setting over Carrboro’s pink-yellow sky, that evening when I walked home from a refreshing run and carrying my bounty home from a visit to WSM, I was passing by the abandoned farmer’s market municipal lot. The sound of Mexican schlagers slowly caught my attention, as if it was some mood-setting music in a movie that I was watching. At the lot, a group of Mexican teenagers were being taught, in open air and in public for any passer-by’s enjoyment, their first steps in ballroom dancing. Someone’s father clearly was the instructor in charge. Prom night season must be closeby…

Continuing my stroll, walking around the back side of the local fire department, I almost got hit by a baseball. Buffed firemen were killing time playing a game of America’s favorite summer sport. Except for one guy; he was washing the bright-red fire truck, giving it even more shine than those sparkling fire trucks already have… On the parking lot of my home, as he was walking in opposite direction, one of my neighbors told me what I already knew: “It sure is a perfect evening, isn’t it?” I couldn’t agree more. My first (and last) summer in North Carolina is perhaps not going to be that bad after all…