"Barbès saved my Slavic soul"
Picture by Olivier Conan www.barbesbrooklyn.com
For Rob, Rachel and Ana, for Barbès and for Brooklyn
Time stopped.
I ran to Madrid’s sunny streets,
to Montpellier’s sunny seaside,
to Sofia’s sunny friends
and landed in New York
in the midst of a snowstorm.
I had gone through an earthquake.
And another one.
And one more.
My heart had broken into pieces
that were still trembling
on the hard floor of my ribs.
I was trying to catch my breath.
My head was spinning.
My song had gone silent.
The snow was numbing the pain
through a meaningless white curtain.
I was in an empty house
petting an unfriendly cat.
And Rob said :
« There is soul in Brooklyn. »
I said :
« I know. »
He said :
« No. There is Slavic soul in Brooklyn ».
I said :
« Where ? »
He said :
« Follow me. »
I was feverish. I was tired. I was hungry. I was late.
But I went.
I pushed the door.
And Barbès took me in.