The Woman in the Window
<p>I am sitting in a square in Prague having a cigarette observing the passersby. I study their faces their gestures their clothing. I theorize about their pasts hopes fears loves and losses. As my father would say: I am <em>people watching</em>. They come and they go. A neverending kaleidoscopic whirl of Souls. Permanent fixtures in places like this are rare and palpable. A deep breath the smoke along with it a narrow stream back out and the fumes daintily float away. My eyes at ease behind tinted glass aimlessly peruse the figures tracing their forms and their paths. My gaze meanders as freely and leisurely as its objects.</p>
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