a Poem


A few months ago, I began to wonder if there was a way for the city of Tiraspol to speak for itself.

Between the non-stop barrage of negative propaganda from the outside world and my own tendencies to find the sweet in everything, I began to despair that I’d ever be able to perceive the true heart of this place.

And then, a few months ago, I took notice of something rather peculiar.

Despite the fact that most people here do not speak English, nearly all of the writing on the clothing that they wear is in English.

In fact, I’ve only seen one person wearing a shirt in Russian in the past six months. Aside from a handful of T-shirts in German, all the rest of the clothes displaying text were in English.

That made me wonder what kind of message was being shared in this society. Not on the internet and not on TV or the radio but one to another, in person.

Every person walking around in public, wearing clothes with text on them, is displaying their share of the message.

But what would that message be, if one were to put all the pieces together?

I decided to find out.

I decided to let Tiraspol write a poem about itself.


Tiraspol, a Poem

Be who you are
Common sense is not so common
Cherie
I survived Monday!
We are the future
Break all the rules
Love more, hate less

Happy girls are the prettiest
Enjoy where you are
My body not yours
Believe
Hashtag awesome
My heart belongs to you

Free

Everything is amazing and everybody is happy
I am where are you?
She
Be happy
Genius since birth

This is me
The lake is my happy place
No more boring days!

I like you more than unicorns

Eat
Happy holly days
Oh YEAH


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