Yeah, it's not what it used to be.
Who remembers that the embankment running through Old Brno was, well, just as wide as the river. It's over today. And they say there was a waterman living in that embankment. Well, who would believe such nonsense.
I used to have a little shack not far from there, and I used to sell eggs in it. Monday through Saturday. Day in and day out. And I knew almost everybody. Who, with whom, why and how. Especially the why. And how. Two or three times a week, a little man in a little green suit would drop by for a chat. An old man. He knew everybody, too, and his mouth was so big, he hardly let me speak. And that's something to say! Then he put a few eggs in his pockets and went on with his business.
I think it was Wednesday then. Not Thursday, definitely Thursday. That's when the new batch from Kurim comes in. I look out of the shed and the little man is hurrying by. So I say. Good day, sir. Why are they in such a hurry? Nothing today? Aren't we going to do business? You won't even stop for a chat? And the little man just waves his hand and calls: "Next time, madam, next time. Soon my baker's apprentice will fall into the embankment and I'll have to drown him. I'm running to make it. Goodbye, then." I shook my head, wondering what the man was talking about. But that's what people do sometimes.
And as I'm scratching my head and looking up into the air, suddenly a woman named Blažková, she's like that, whatever, came running up and said: "Do you know what's happened?" And with my mouth open I listen to how just a moment ago a baker's apprentice on a bicycle went down into the Old Brno embankment and only a few rolls came out.
I don't know. I haven't seen the doll since.
