Station

A charred clock tower with golden wings. The old booking hall (embers of Art Nouveau) now a kavárna

He rummages for his ticket. Sees cities clicking into existence on the big board

He follows the sign for the WC but the trail peters out into a dank hallway and a crumbling stair

In the Burger King: U2 overkill and the wiry expat with Dawkins’ Delusion

On the platform a young girl with flowers: blue-white, white-blue