A pigeon perches momentarily on the ledge of my open window interior double doors; all windows open to another, a narrow gap in between; I don’t know why.  Both are wide open, drying my underwear on a wooden hanger.  I take in my breath and wait.  Are birds in the house bad luck? He flies away.  Is that a sign?  A dirty city pigeon coming to tell me something.  As much as I long for them, signs scare me when they present themselves.

Morning bike ride before I leave, with Michal, my guide.  I don’t know where he will take me, soaring on bikes, high above the city.  We are somewhere looking down the views: bridges stretching endlessly across rivers, trees reflected in the water below, glittering green.  Today it is cool and my one heavy sweater buried in my  suitcase already waiting for the next place, in a locker at the train station.