I have just come back after an early morning trip to the Jagiellonian University campus. If you live in Luxembourg, transport will probably have a different meaning to you. Krakow trams are surprisingly impressive with GPS locators to aid the tourist, and certainly inexpensive.
A smooth set of blues and country songs are vibing with the crawling morning breeze in the café.
I sit and wait; for perspectives. Here's a city that's both an old man and a young lady. The old man walks around the city, hanging along the numerous deserted apartments. The lady struts through the streets, by the boulevards and the banks of the Vistula, indifferent to the have-beens and might-bes. The old man, bare chested, bears marks of crucifixion and chooses to share specific pages from his life with the world. He wants to be remembered; in certain italicized paragraphs. There are many onlookers and he seems to be content with his mission. But he doesn't perturb my curiosity. I would rather follow the woman around in silence. She represents all that matters. She reflects the perfumed waves; of cause and effect. She is who, some would kill for, and for whom some would turn into reformists. She is what the old man wants you to see. Hope.
Here they are. Old bloke with Beauty.
