I wound through the Old Town like a cat chasing string, mixing with lunchtime crowds and Russian tourists. Focus on Life, read one sign. Migration - Is It A Crime? read another. There were tables in the main square outside a tea rooms and gelateria but everyone was shut inside, sheltering from the cold.
Headless snowmen were dotted all about Eaux-Vives Park. From the rise near the exit you could see across the gunmetal lake, pleasure boats laid-up and snowbound all the way along the quay.