Signs of spring are everywhere in this city, as its citizens, pining for the outdoors and a ray of sunshine, flock to the sidewalks, parks, and cycle lanes; people standing on tiny French balconies, shivering in the cold though basking in a sliver of sunlight, quietly smoking a cigarette; navigating wrought-iron switch-backs of fences at the entrance to Oosterpark; flicking ashes from more cigarettes, admiring the shimmer of reflections off the water in canals. Everyone in the city is restless, and seems to be waiting for something; but what is it that each person, in passing, is waiting for? Where are they bustling to go? What does their future hold? Amsterdam, is on the verge of spring, inching its way back to life, after a few dormant years of subdued silence–patiently waiting for a new chapter; its next season. Much like myself.
