Chestertown, MD is filled with such wonderful history. It's an old town with beautiful old bricks and slate and iron fences. It's a step back in time in a modern way. Part of the charm of this old town are wonderful surprises in architecture, monument or art. When I was first in Chestertown, I met a girl. She caught my eye in an obscure alley, sitting casually on a circle of bricks. She's was young, beautiful and quite disarming as she gazed at a cannonball. I was immediately enchanted by her steely gaze. Though she's never spoken to me, over the years, we've become friends. Everytime I'm there I stop to see her. I wonder always what she sees. What she's thinking. And what's the meaning of the cannonball?
I know I could look it up with little trouble. I'm sure there's a story - but I don't want to know. I like to wonder. I like to ask her each year. Her answer is always the same...she simply smiles and looks on to places I cannot go. Her face is too happy for tragedy. Not joyous enough for play. It's something else that brought that cannonball, and the wonder is in the not knowing, isn't it. In the immagining. I make up a new story each year and now I'm afraid to know because the reality will be dull in comparison to the world I've created for her. And to think...I don't even know her name.
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