The persistent fountain

Seated at the Father Demo square, the week's worth of newspapers on my lap, a cup of coffee in my hand, all of Saturday ahead, I watched the city come out of the early morning stupor, stalls being set up for the street fair, the steadily increasing flow of cars, half full tourist buses on prowl, the swirling paper plates left behind from the pizza last nite, the water fountain persists and in sporadic bursts of silence within the throb of the city, one can hear its splashing water.