Lublin is calm: charm as a pretty gal smoothly adding logs to the stove.

She, Lublin, will promise you that upon treading her soil, you will receive a gift.

And you, lover, will take that endowment and your heart will jump like that day when you received your first pencil at that kindergarten.

Whip that voice which lures you to stay home, it is so cunning.

The Pretty is opening her arms; hug her.

You will spot that the politicians had their big day yesterday with the first round of the Presidential Elections, and that the voters were thrilled to voice their hearts overweighing one candidate and forcing another to early call the day.

Yet, the purely energetic little ones, the kids, had their own competitions to win: for them, forming huge bubbles can be as serious business as any election. Moreover, lining plastic sticks bears the same graveness of holding a high level of an international forum.

Indulge more in the roads of the Pretty, and the blossoming trees will definitely salute you with a handful of roses: they hide different colors to suit every lover.

When night falls, you will smell lavender from the rooms of the city, it hides it between the thresholds and those walls which hoard hundreds of years of memories: they are so alive.

Look carefully at this wall, have you spotted a pumpkin, a dove, a cluster of grapes, or some tender flower next to the window.

If you are lucky with your legs, they will spontaneously take you to the Old Town. There, just look, reflect, touch the stones, smell history, and live up to Lublin’s Heart.

Along your trip, the most smiling beautiful people will warm your steps.

By: Assef Salloom