Evening in the AGORA, Paris

In a room on the third floor of the Agora hotel, I pace the floor with evening thoughts.

The cobble stone street has finally quieted; although, it is still wet from the wash down done after the café owners cleared away the table and chairs.  The blue glow on the French windows is the same that floods onto the streets with occasional highlights from the gas lamp sconces posted every 25 feet or so, on the limestone building across the way.  The air this evening started out cool and fresh.  But now, I can smell the thickening smoke from a cigarette coming from somewhere; I don’t care to know exactly where.  Although curious about the smoker, I will not take to the window in my skimpy pajama blouse.  Besides, I would not want to push aside the curtain that I’m watching billow by the breeze of the night air.

Arched window by arched window that I see across the court way, have various colors that change according to the  light intensity behind them. Those windows are intimidating with shadows that pass in no certain pattern of time.  I feel there may be someone who has nothing to do but look though my windows,s for whatever they may see when the curtains are blown apart by the wind.  I ask myself, what could be so awful about that?  I suppose I’m only afraid of nothing, except my fear of what that nothing may be. 
07/2009.