Jānis Indāns

I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here – but that’s not the point.

It’s not about the flamingo-pink bricked building, or the crowds that curve around it.

It’s not even the vivid grassy lawn.

Or the bicycles, as fine as they are.

It’s the backpacked, rose-adorned, bowler-hatted man tapping his foot with a hand-waving flag.

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