Yesterday, as it darkened to evening, the bells of the cathedral were tolling the hour with slow and deep clangs. Walking over the cobblestone street, I passed a church and a statue of the crucifix with a sliver of blood flowing over Jesus' ribs. I pulled my coat tighter against the February wind and noticed one of the town pubs was already lit with candle lanterns. As I hurried through the market square, the massive, stone Rathhaus looming next to me, a flower peddler was trying to make one, last sale for the night. And I thought,
"When did I enter a Charles Dickens novel?."
I was suddenly walking along in the 1800's. I was dressed all wrong for it. But it was pretty fantastic.
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