Proof

Three degrees at the tram stop, and everyone has a breath now you can see.

The man with the terrier lets his out in short grey sums. The girl in the yellow coat blows hers on purpose, twice, to watch it go.

It's All Souls. Up at Olšany last night's candles are mostly wax by now.

Down here, twelve of us and the 22 late, each mouth making the same small weather over and over, and nobody counting.