Prague was charming, waiting. There was longing in Prague.
As I stepped back to observe the aftermath, the original tastes better, smells better, is better. It reminded me of rainy days and a cuppa coffee in my hand when I deliberated between the orginial cocoa or a hazelnut, caramel drizzle or blackforest; the original is just better- strong, rich and flavourful on its own.
Of late, I dreamed of snatching that little bit of silver lining behind the clouds, that infinitesimal bit of blue sky thinking. I missed looking at colours- those that lingered in the horizon, sunlight that floods the woods, colours that are assigned in their places- vibrant and warm like the fields of marigolds or fragile and precious, like when light hits the morning dew.
I missed the spires of mosques that pierced the skies, and most of all; I missed the colours of Prague at dusk.
:: Prague, Czech Republic, 2007 ::