Siting by a window of the Carling Pub, I am looking out. The crowds are amazing on a sunny afternoon. After a while, I focus on the name of the pub and its coat of arms, which are applied to the window from outside. The coat of arms shows two roaring lions standing on a bridge and holding a shield. Everything is gray except the shield, which is red. The sunlight makes is bright. Very, very bright. The red is so vibrant that I find myself staring at it for a long time. It fills me with joy. And then I realize that the sun is creeping up the window. I stare at the shield ever more intensely for fear of losing it. Soon enough, the red turns dark. Nay, murky. It loses its magic in a jiffy. And I find myself staring at the name of the pub, which is still exposed to the sunlight. “Bup Gnilrac,” I read over and over again in bright gray. But the red in the shield is still with me. All I have to do to see it again is to close my eyes. “Bup Gnilrac,” I repeat to myself as I am finishing my drink. Not a bad name for a pub, either.