Dejvická

The station is familiar but not commonplace. The walls, the stall , the bookshop are just fleeting images as I rush to take get to the airport bus. It was the first airport I saw when I arrived, the one I see when I see people off and so it will be the last one I see if I ever leave the city for good. Today, though, Dejvická is tulips.

They are searing a scarlet and yellow ring in the centre of the traffic island. Beside me, they are imperial purple licks of paint without a royal portrait. It is the simplicity of form which attracts me to these flowers. I am not ordinarily a flower person. I don't know species, not particular breeds. The tulip has a special place. The simple cup perched on a the single slender stem is nature's most perfect moment. Though, I know, tulips have been selectively bred to look this way.

It's quiet, but not the suburban quiet of Nové Butovice. It's the quiet of city abandoned by the warm spring weather or people stifled by the heat. A girl is meditating in the park. Some guys are sharing a beer at the benches. I wander to the end. There are a row of alders and the leaves of one them are covered in crimson nodules. I wonder if this a disease or mutation. If it is, it's funny that nature would be so complementary, the crimson of the nodules is the perfect opposite of the leaves deep green. [I later find out they are in fact the larvae of some insect.]

The station is also has good examples of Czech styrofoam art. There is a perfectly sculpted TV with a tractor set inside. The piece is in almost perfect condition though it has been here for years. It must be the only TV to go unnoticed in the world. Some of the other pieces are damaged since I was here last.

I return to the platform where a new line of tourists has formed to replace the old. I'm the only person waiting on the other side. G. is expected soon. Then we're off to meet another friend and go for a walk in Divoká Šarka.