Jerusalem Street.

One block from the Nasdravi station lies an old and towering synagogue; one of the few jewish relics Hitler decided to leave for onlookers,knowing that there would be no jews to step into it. its A beautiful structure,ornate in A classical and somewhat gothic style, that could be confused with A church. The onlookers are mostly non jews, who with a certain nostalgic curiosity stand peering through the iron gate,hopeing to get a glimpse of something holy and remote. The gates are always shut, with the exceptions of the Sabbath which brings in a trickle of Jewish old timers,left over from the ashes of war and time. They are old now; these men. They gather in a small corridor on the top floor of the temple, drinking their aged spirits after the morning service, and with a twinkle of the eye reflect back to their bellygoat years, when perhaps being jewish in Prague was more exotic if not daring, and left one wide open to Romance and adventure with their non Jewish counter parts.