Once again I am here in Kraków; this time I am alone. Except for isolated exchanges with shopkeepers, I’ve kept to myself without speaking to anyone. This city is cozier this time. I suppose that’s due in part to the fact that I haven’t been bustling about (as I was last time). I’ve been taking my time, looking at what’s around me with no particular destination in mind. Not only hast it been relaxing but it has also given me an opportunity to explore the city consciously, getting to know it much better.

I just relocated myself. A staggering drunk intruded on my quiet spot in the park. He fell and passed out, and I doubt he will be in the best of moods when he wakes up. No I am sitting on the poet’s monument in the Rynek with Saint Mary’s right in front of me.

My day has been most relaxing, as I was saying. Perhaps I’ve accomplished little (or maybe even nothing), but I am so very relaxed – quite a therapeutic day.

I’ve spent much of the day watching the people. I’ve heard several languages and seen a few races other than Americans – oops (Freudian slip) – whites, rather. I’ve heard snatches of English conversations all of the city. I’ve no idea how many Americans are here. I sat next to two in the cafe, but I didn’t speak to them. (I feared a repeat of the asshole I talked to last time. “What are you doing here?” “Playing the guitar.” No joke!)

It’s now seven – the top of the hour and the trumpeter plays the truncated music from Saint Mary’s tower. Legend has it that this piece was what was played to warn of the coming Turks. It stops unexpectedly in the middle of a bar because the watchman was struck in the throat with an arrow. Since then the piece has remained hauntingly unfinished.