the lane to the canal

The lane descends steeply between close-set buildings, its cobbles dark with rain and its gutters still carrying thin streams downhill. Window boxes drip onto striped awnings. Laundry lines cross overhead between upper stories, though nothing hanging from them moves despite the occasional breeze. At the bottom, the buildings open abruptly onto a canal broad enough for two small boats to pass. The water is black-green and quick beneath the lamps, carrying leaves, reflected windows, and small islands of foam under a low stone bridge. A narrow quay follows the canal in both directions. One way passes beneath the bridge toward a district of taller buildings where several roofs are crowned with copper domes. The other follows a row of plane trees and old benches toward a distant curve where strings of lights hang across the water. Moored to an iron ring nearby is a small wooden boat with no name painted on it. Its interior is dry except for a shallow pool of rainwater in the stern. One oar lies across the seats. The second is nowhere obvious. Across the canal, a single upstairs window is open. A white curtain lifts and falls behind it.

From city records