This summer evening in the city hadn’t yet decided how it wanted to end. The sun still lingered above the low rooftops. It hovered in a pale, amber-colored hesitation, as if reluctant to let the day come to a close. The light fell sideways through the foliage of the trees. It shone on concrete facades, warmed the dust and leaves, and brought out the faint scent of hot asphalt. The air carried that very special softness of late summer. Thick, yet forgiving. It smelled of mown grass, gasoline, and something faintly sweet. Muted, rhythmic music trickled in from somewhere. Voices mingled with it — hoarse from smoking, relaxed by the evening — accompanied by the clinking of glasses. Every now and then, you could also hear occasional laughter that spread through the streets like a gentle touch.
Bodies moved more slowly than during the day. Shoulders glistened slightly with sweat. Shirts sticked to backs. Skirts brushed against bare knees. The scent of perfume hung motionless in the air. Everything seemed to have drawn closer together. The houses, the people, the thoughts. A warm breeze swept over the shadows like a deliberate hand. It opened pores and awakened the senses. The city breathed heavily, languidly, and seductively, as if it were aware of its influence.
Half an hour earlier, I was sitting in the back seat of a taxi. The city passed me by in fragments. Balconies with laundry hanging out to dry, kiosks stocked with cigarettes, alcohol, and chewing gum. A faint, metallic Serbian tune drifted from the radio. I let it wash over me.
Now I found myself in Zemun. The narrow alleys greeted me with whispers. The air pressed against me. Warm, breathing, almost curious. It brushed against my skin as if it recognized me. It was one of those evenings when many things seemed possible. An evening when glances lingered longer than necessary. An evening when every step carried the quiet sensation of being watched and desired. It felt like a promise that needed no explanation.
The air was thick. It was enveloped in the scent of tobacco and roasted coffee, mingled with the faint sweetness of late summer. A café awaited just a few steps away. Lively without being hectic, and full without being noisy. There were tables inside and out. They stood close together, crowded with elbows and cups. Yet no one was in a hurry to finish anything. At a leisurely pace, the chairs scraped lazily across the stone floor. The smoke rose slowly in blue curls, swirling and then unfolding again. The conversations were murmured rather than spoken. The voices were soft. Plates of light meals were served. They remained on the tables for a long time.
Coffee stood dark and patient in thick cups. Steam rose. The beer caught the light in shimmering golden reflections and glistened gently. Time softened here. It expanded and yielded without hesitation. Faces glowed under the café’s dim lamplight. Eyes half-closed, the many smiles slight, yet ever-present. The atmosphere drew close. It whispered through the noise and smoke and invited me in. I sat down at a table at the edge of the terrace. From here, the view opened out over Zemun, down to the Danube, and on to Belgrade. The river lay wide and calm beneath the fading light. Its surface stirred barely perceptibly. Only the slow breathing of the water revealed the current. The air here had a different quality. It smelled of water, of reeds, of wet wood. And it smelled of boat docks that had spent the whole day in the sun. This scent was old and calm. There was something patient about it—the patience of the river, which had been resting here long before the city decided to spread beyond its banks.
A light breeze came up from the water. It barely cooled my skin. But I could feel its touch. The city’s heat and the river’s humidity mingled into a soft, vibrating air that surrounded everything. I looked across to the other side. Belgrade lay there on its hills, still bathed in the last light of the day. Roofs shimmered in a warm orange. The sky was slowly darkening. My coffee arrived. The cup felt heavy and warm in my hand. The aroma rose immediately. It was rich and deep. I held the cup under my nose for a moment and breathed it in. The scent had an earthy, smoky quality. It reminded me of something bitter that was also soothing. The heat of the coffee slowly spread through my mouth and mingled with the warm evening air. Its depth remained for a long time. It tasted as if it had come from the same dark soil as the river flowing quietly below. I set the cup down on the table and watched the people.
Two women were sitting at the neighboring table. One of them had her hair pinned up. A few strands had already come loose and clung lightly to the neck and shoulders. Her skin glistened in the light of the lamps. She spoke slowly. Her hands moved calmly through the air as she spoke. Sometimes she laughed and leaned back. Then she closed her eyes for a moment, as if she could feel the evening’s words on her skin. A few meters away, another woman stood at the railing overlooking the Danube. Her long dress fluttered gently in the breeze coming from the water. She gazed out at the river for a long time. Her demeanor was serene. The conversations in the café continued to flow around me. Voices, clinking glasses, footsteps, an occasional laugh. Everything moved to the calm rhythm of summer.
My cup emptied. The sun had sunk lower in the sky. The light over the Danube turned reddish and soft. The sky slowly took on a darker blue hue. A few dark clouds had gathered on the horizon. The city across the river began to glow. I stayed seated for a while longer, simply watching. Then I stood up. A cooler breeze blew in from the river. The evening was too beautiful to leave behind in a taxi. So I started walking. At first, the path led along the banks of the Danube. The narrow street was empty. Boats lay lazily at the docks, occasionally bumping against the wood. The river moved beside me, broad and steady. The surface rippled for a moment. Its dark water reflected the last glimmers of the sky. Finally, I turned away from the riverbank and walked back into the city.
After walking for a few minutes, the air changed noticeably. The heat no longer lay evenly between the walls. It gathered, as if it were waiting. The wind that had been coming from the river had died down. A dull veil lay over the rooftops. The light lost its clarity. The colors grew duller. They slowly receded further and further. I kept walking. The streets lay quiet before me. In the distance, there was a muffled rumble. It was barely audible. More like a great tremor that was hard to pin down. Other sounds seemed muted. They simply got stuck in the heat. I had the feeling that something was approaching without revealing itself. Everything seemed to be in tense anticipation.
The first raindrops fell sporadically. Heavy and slow, they struck the dry asphalt, leaving behind dark, irregular patches. They touched my skin, cool and soft, almost hesitantly, as if they didn’t quite belong here yet. After the warmth of the day, they felt foreign. Cautious. And yet they remained. The air had changed. It had grown heavy. It held the rain, which was not yet ready to start falling. I felt it close and still against my skin. The scent began to rise. Dryness breaking open. Dust being stirred up. Something earthy and warm that slowly rose and mingled with the moisture. The ground began to breathe. I looked up at the sky. The clouds had gathered together. Layer upon layer. They hung low and motionless over the rooftops. The light fell dully. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. Then the rain began. It had been building for a while and was now simply becoming more visible. The drops fell more densely and evenly. The sound on the asphalt merged into a soft, continuous murmur. I quickened my pace and stepped under the large, ornate canopy of a closed store. The sheet metal above me caught the rain. A steady, soft drumming began. For a moment, I stood there alone, looking out at the street as it changed. Then someone stepped under the canopy beside me.
She stopped close to the edge. She was leaning forward slightly, her back still turned toward the rain. The water ran in thin streams down the fabric of her clothes and dripped from the edges. For a moment, she didn’t move. I stepped aside a little. We stood side by side in silence for a moment. I looked at her. I recognized her even before I could see her face. By the way she stood. By the slight turn of her shoulders. By the clothes I’d seen earlier that afternoon. In the subdued light of the little perfume shop. It was that faint feeling of rediscovering something that wasn’t quite tangible yet. Then her scent reached me. It wasn’t just in the air. It was so close that it seemed to emanate from her skin rather than surround us. There was a subtle sweetness to it. Fruity, subdued, as if it had retreated into the evening. Her scent was soft, almost liquid. It lingered for a moment before it changed. I smelled something calm. Light wood unfolded slowly. Beneath it, something creamy that radiated tranquility. It settled beneath everything else and held it all together. The scent grew denser the longer I took it in. A hint of smokiness emerged. Nothing about it was overpowering. Everything remained close to the body.
The little shop. The hushed silence between the shelves. The narrow strips of paper in her hand. And the slow, focused movements with which she had tested the scent. And now it was back. Warmer on her skin. Calmer. More complete. It had only just begun to become real.
“You bought it,” I said.
She turned her head slightly toward me. She checked to see if I was really talking to her. Then she looked at me. “What do you mean?” Her voice was calm. Quieter than necessary.
I paused for a moment. Not out of uncertainty. More because the scent was still there, and I didn’t want to lose it right away. “Your perfume. We were in the same store today.”
She looked at me, a little confused. For a moment, there was a questioning look in her eyes. Slightly reserved. She seemed to be checking whether the memory really belonged to me. Then something barely perceptible changed. There was a slight softening in her expression. The tension eased. And a faint smile emerged, still hesitant, but certain. “That’s right,” she said. Now her gaze was more open. Warmer. She held it a moment longer, without looking away. “I remember.”
The distance between us seemed to have grown smaller, even though neither of us had moved. Her voice grew calmer. More natural. As if something had become clear. For a moment, there was silence. But it wasn’t the same silence as before.
“And you…,” she said. She tilted her head slightly. Then she moved a fraction closer. Close enough that the space between us changed. “There’s something there, too.”
Her voice was calmer now. Almost casual. She let her eyes linger on me for a moment. “It’s warmer,” she said softly. “Deeper.” A brief moment. “Something earthy beneath it.” She closed her eyes for a moment, barely longer than a breath, as if to make sure. “And something darker. Determined,” she said. “Right on the edge.” When she opened her eyes again, there was that faint smile. Calmer now. More confident. “It doesn’t reveal itself right away,” she said. “You have to wait a little.” A barely perceptible hesitation. “But then it stays.”
She looked past me out toward the city. The rain was easing up. The noise was fading. Isolated drops broke away from the edge of the roof and fell onto the asphalt at irregular intervals.
She stepped out onto the wet street. She glanced up briefly. Then at me. “That suits you,” she said.
I held her gaze a moment longer. “Not entirely by chance.”
She stood there for a brief moment longer. Her smile deepened almost imperceptibly. Then she set off. Her footsteps grew fainter the farther she walked away. After a few moments, she became part of the flow of people ahead. I stood there for another moment. Then I stepped out as well and continued on my way.
The rain had already subsided. Only the soft dripping from the eaves remained. An irregular rhythm that mingled with the sounds of the street. The air was warm and humid at the same time. It carried a fresh, cool scent. Water pooled in shallow puddles on the pavement. Here and there, the ground was already beginning to dry out again. A faint breeze swept through the alley. It made the moisture on the skin noticeable. And then it, too, disappeared again.
The streets grew narrower. The houses drew closer together. The old town was now bathed entirely in the warm twilight of the summer evening. People streamed out of cafés and bars, huddled close together. They walked across the pavement. Their steps were calm. Their movements light. Voices mingled with the clinking of glasses. Somewhere, people were laughing. Lamps hung between the facades, bathing everything in a soft light. Music drifted out from open doors. Despite the rain, the day’s heat was still slightly stored in the walls and slowly radiated back into the night. I continued on my way through the winding alleys, letting myself drift among the streetlights, voices, and warm stone. Again and again, I stopped and looked back.
Belgrade breathed slowly into the night. The darkness had now completely enveloped the city. It lay gently upon the rooftops. The evening slowly slipped way. It greeted the night with a gentle smile, knowing he would see her again the next day. And only sensing what secrets her eyes would behold in the coming hours, to carry them along later.