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And now we leave Prague, Praha. Goodbye, Old Town. Goodbye, Castle. Goodbye, parks with your ostentatious roses and secret, misted gardens. Goodbye, merry Antonín of boardgames and beer and late-night talks, too little sleep. Goodbye, you army of tour guides waving bright umbrellas, false flowers, beribboned sticks. I walked you, Prague, at night, in the rain, in the elusive sunshine. Your walls were burnt sienna, mustard yellow, the unamused tan of ancient rock. In a square we sat and soaked in your heavy expanse, your old splendor. And all the church bells ringing at once in insistent chaos.

A place of arrested romance.

Posted by chschen 17:00 Archived in Czech Republic

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