Courtyards you can walk into
A door left open, chestnuts underfoot, and a bicycle with a basket full of rain. Behind the street front, the city lowers its voice.
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Notes
A few things brought home from a walk. Some became longer pieces; others stayed as a paragraph in the margin.
A morning in the Central Market
Under the great curved roofs, the morning moves at the pace of a loaf being wrapped. I came for bread and stayed to watch the light.
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Faces above the doors
Some look stern, some seem half asleep. Once I began noticing the carved faces above the entrances, walking a single block took twice as long.
A short observation
Crossing the Daugava at dusk
From the bridge, the old town folds into a line of spires. The river keeps the last of the light long after the windows have let it go.
A short observation
Stepped gables of the old town
Rooflines rise in little flights of stairs. Below them, a narrow street turns just enough to hide where it is going. I follow it without a plan.
A short observation