Walking through Prague was strange déjà vu. Everyone he saw looked like ghosts from before. Old teachers, friends, relatives. His companion said, Prague has been washed by fire, astronomy has recessed into dream. Now, dust has resettled, a familiar blanket. He felt a wind like elementary school. In the sky, clouds broke like drifting continents, revealing yesterday’s moon.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Posted by Christian Bell at 8:00 AM
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