It was the oddest thing. All the children sat in a ringed circle, underneath a statue. The statue to Josef Jungmann, the father of modern Czech language. Their backs turned toward him.
It was a mild summer day. One that seemed almost unfair for the throngs of passing tourists to enjoy alone. The children, each one with a device in hand, would react with rapid fidgets and bursts of joy. The joy of conquering something. Then they would pass along a nudge to their vacant friends.
Later that day, a host of errands saw me pass through the mall. Instead of a ringed circle, they sat side by side on food court benches. Then on the tram on the way home, seated one in front of the other. Except they were old enough to be the children’s parents.
I looked back down. Another DM.