staré mesto
26 November 1998

Tiny flakes of snow sprinkled from above grace my presence in this gothic wonderland. I sit quietly in cafes thick with smoke, gazing out of frosted windows to witness meandering German tourist and iron clad-like natives on the narrow stone streets. The brisk Vltavá air can't keep me and countless others off the Karlûv Most after dark. I gaze longingly at the spires of St. Vitus Cathedral and run my fingers over the small bronze cross set into the bridge's mighty stone, dreaming of my return to this magical city.