Anonymous (ID: L7owpYTE)
TO THE EUROPE I ONCE KNEW - IN(...) 06/28/26(Sun)16:18:22 No.537994229

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TO THE EUROPE I ONCE KNEW - IN the us it's worse Anonymous (ID: L7owpYTE) 06/28/26(Sun)16:18:22 No.537994229

To Our Neighbors and Friends,

I write this with a heavy heart, feeling that the future is unhoming us. It is a quiet sadness, not born of anger, but of a deep longing for the rhythm we once knew. We seem to be building a new nation whose citizens are strangers, even to those of us who have lived here all our lives. The change has come so fast that I often feel the unhoming effect of changing environments, disrupting the community bonds that once held us tight.

Do you remember the sound of languages changing in playgrounds, a shift so subtle yet so profound that it marks the passage of an era? It is accompanied by the smell of certain foods and spices, once familiar, now perceived as different, altering the very sensory fabric of our days. These sights, sounds, and smells that shaped Europe are fading, replaced by a blur that leaves us grasping for the memory of empty chairs.

My grief is strongest on Sundays. I miss when life slowed down for family, food, and rest, where the Sunday lunch was a multi-course family event that anchored the week. I miss the comforting smell of the Sunday roast cooking in the house, a scent that promised safety and continuity. Whether it was the German Sonntagsspaziergang or the long Italian meals, these rituals defined us. But what strikes me most nowadays is the disappearance of rituals in our developed capitalist countries, leaving a silence where shared passion once lived.

I walk through our old town squares, looking for the particular stillness that used to settle over them in the early morning, where stones underfoot, worn smooth by centuries of passage, held the cool of the night. These spaces were the heart of civic life, yet now they often reflect the memory of empty chairs, signaling a lost community presence. The squares remain, but the unspoken rhythm of local life has quieted, and we are left wondering how to speak from our hearts when the connection feels so distant.

I miss you,


Your Neighbors