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In the Old Quarter you get to the square one of six ways & move through it like the ox carts did for a thousand years, the unspoken etiquette of silent moments where a misunderstanding becomes fodder for good jokes, a reverence of place, not time or history conjured up. If you’re a walker wishing to cross you need only look left to lock eyes on the next scooter, truck or bus, then step from the curb to become what you are—a part of the flow, steady & slow while cataclysm’s unscheduled appointments wait for the unwitting who change pace or make a sudden stop. The woman selling flowers will chat. No signals? “Oh, you have lights in America. You’re still so young!” Kevin Swanwick, July 2025