“May I ask, is this watch for society or for psychology?”

I smile.

“Many of our customers are in business situations, where an expensive watch is part of the, how would you say, uniform?”

“Yes,” says Mimi, “I can picture Bird in a uniform.”

“While others buy watches for personal reasons.”

“To try to make themselves feel better about themselves?”

“There is nothing wrong with this,” says Sophia, “but it is seldom successful.”

“Hear that, Bird?” says Mimi. “Seldom successful.”

I hold my glass up to the light and marvel at the rich burgundy colour.

“And, of course, one can buy a prestigious timepiece simply because of the fine craftsmanship,” says Sophia. “If you have the money, the reasons are endless.”

The rest of the day, we wander Prague. We stroll through the small artistic neighbourhood of Novy Svet, have lunch at Café Louvre, where Einstein and Kafka had hung out. We find the Sigmund Freud sculpture hanging in space over the street, and we check out the memorial to the victims of Communism, a disturbing series of human figures coming down a set of steps, metal men who appear to have been ripped apart by an unexpected blast.

And we walk up to Letna Park. This is high ground above the river and the city. At one point, when the Soviets held Prague, there had been an enormous monument to Joseph Stalin on the site, which dominated the skyline. Shortly after Stalin’s death in 1953, Nikita Khrushchev, no great fan of Uncle Joe, ordered the seventeen-thousand-ton statue blown up. The site sat vacant until 1991, when Vratislav Novak designed and built a giant working metronome on the spot.

Today, Letna Park is a showcase for graffiti artists and skateboarders.

Mimi and I watch the kids slide their boards along the railings and bounce them off the stone walls and down the steps.

“Did you ever try skateboarding?”

I had been on a board once. It hadn’t been pretty. “Are those shoes?”

Hanging from a thick power cable that connects the metronome to a hydro pole are dozens of shoes, their laces tied together.

“Why would anyone do that?”

“Maybe it’s a protest.”

Mimi is unconvinced. “So, what are they protesting?”

“Or maybe it’s like that bridge in Paris.”

“The one with all the locks?”

A tour group has gathered around the metronome. About a dozen men and women clustered around a tall woman with a bright yellow umbrella. I can feel Mimi lean towards the sound of the tour guide’s voice.

“English,” Mimi says.

“Go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“I’m going to sit down.”

“Are you all right?” asks Mimi. “Not a problem with low blood sugar?”

I find a bench, and Mimi hurries off to do her dance with the tour. Chip pops out of a group of skateboarders. He’s practising ollies and kickflips.

Hey, old man, he shouts as he swings by, you should give this a try.