ECHOES OF ROKYCANY

in rokycany the church tower makes, it raises its golden tips to the sky. the bells ring there in the silent night, their notes of melody carry through the city. the sounds of the city mingle with the music of the heavens, the billy is rustling, the train is screeching at the station. the bus invites you to new paths, and family houses whisper across the road. there stands a chair, strange and stranger, made of flies, like twin peaks of dreams. gently shimmers on her, a miracle woven, a log from mysterious places among the shadows. order in the tower, chaos in the alleys, all traces of time take turns in the dance. Rokycans live by their own rhythm, under the church bells, in the heart of the city.