Sat on prague riverbank steps, a boat playing jazz motors past. I want to sleep, but don’t know where to do it. Smokey cheese and pickle, more bread and soup. I am not tired but want to put to rest the thoughts of Caroline, London, and work that have troubled me all day. The conflict of wanting to make her happy on her birthday versus my fierce resistance to end my trip early by flying back to England to do so. And all day long its been this battle of a decision, and the rush of cars beside me on this major road, so that I feel stressed and agitated and want to put it all down.
And the day earlier was not much better, I was very glad for my night of comfort, in the german house, because all day long I had to work up and down hills between Germany and the Czech republic in a persistant drizzle rain. The best part of the day is the rich soup I make at its end, looking out from one of the last summits, to flatter and milder hills for tommorow.
So I take a drink in Prague, and wait until its suitable late to return to a riverside park, and throw down my self deflating mattress, behind a clump of trees, well hidden, and almost touching Rose.
