THE SEER OF SPECTERS
The city is supposedly full of specters. You just can’t see them. You’re supposed to feel them sometimes in cold spots in the air as you pass on a warm day. Or an even colder spot on a cold day. There are shadows everywhere, but just not in the shade, in every corner of the Stare Misto, the Old City. Nicholas never believed in such things before. He wasn’t sure he believed in them now. Maybe his mind would change, maybe not.
He had met the artist Ivan Vasylenko in the café at the Philharmonic on a side street off of the beginning of Academician Street. Oops! The street was now called Shevchenko Boulevard, but many of the older locals still called it Academician out of habit. Shevchenko Boulevard/Academician Street had a small square with a statue of the historian Myk
