Breathing Time

Flying into Rzezów I noted the surface-to-air missile batteries surrounding the landing strip like points on a chronograph. On the drive to Przemyśl we passed precision convoys as far as the eye could see. Payload after payload being delivered right on time.

I ate a meal to end all meals that afternoon in the pretty main square and spent the afternoon wandering round handsome churches, too many to be boasted by such a small town. How many armies might have rolled through this edge of a point? Climbing the clock tower I looked through moving hands to the level horizon and held my breath as the bell tolled.