(From Warsaw): conversations under gray clouds

Why the gray skies? It is the last day of gray skies in Poland, they tell me. It will all clear. Summer-like weather starts tomorrow, they say.

But when we walked through Lazienki Park, it was gray. It was gray even among the lilacs. Peacocks paced the park, moving slowly among gray statues, resting occasionally, waiting for a warmer moment.

But the moods were gray.

And it was gray on the streets, and in the buses we rode to and from the Old Town. And on the Square it rained.

Inside the souvenir store, Madeline, Jeremy and I shake off the wetness. The saleslady is looking at us as we stand there dripping, me shivering, Madeline clutching an umbrella. And she scolds: “how can you ladies let that poor man suffer so? Why doesn’t he have a sweater or a wrap on? He’ll catch a cold! Can’t you find him something to keep him warm?”