06.28.2013 - 06.28.2013
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.