Location: Krakow Glowny Train Station Waiting Room

I’ve about an hour until I leave for Sopot on a horrific six hour train ride. I’m in the waiting area, sitting beside the first woman I’ve ever heard say kurwa. She turned toward me as she laughed – many teeth were missing and the few that remained were any and all colors except white. Two police officers are winding through the crowd – no, three – asking questions I don’t understand. They’ve said nothing to me, and I am a little grateful. Two tired bums sit with blank expressions. They probably haven’t shaved or bathed in weeks. A drunk just bumped into me and he apologized with glazed eyes. An old man sits across from me, his hands folding in his lap and gazing quietly with almost childlike eyes. A group of gypsies sit together, looking at photographs. Some people read, some eat, and we all wait.

Waiting is not something I will miss when I return to America.