"Prague doesn't let go. This little mother has claws."

(Disclaimer: This blogpost is entirely unrelated to Editorial internship.)

Kafka said of Prague, "Prague doesn't let go. This little mother has claws." and he's entirely right. Prague is the city of cities, the most beautiful place I've ever been. Prague is all arches and clock-towers, all cobbled floors and atmospheric rain-storms. To personify Prague would be to call him an old man, who smells of whiskey and cigarettes, who slaps you on the back and pours you a drink and pours out an anecdote. I'm getting married to Charlie 2Moons in Prague, as soon as he'll have me. My family all cheered when I told them this.

To blog about everything we accomplished in the past five days would be excessive. There were too many events and fantastic moments to condense into one blog-post. Those of you who know me well enough in real life may one day get the privilege of seeing the scrap-book I'm planning; the rest of you can read the ghost story I'm now 2,073 words into in six to eight months when I finish it. (If I finish it - I think I'll finish it.)

For now here are some sporadic highlights. Forgive the gushing, Prague puts me into a constant state of Noumenon Fantastica:

Communism Museum - Both moving and terrifying in equal measures. I don't actually know very much about communism, for my sins, so visiting the communism museum was a steep learning curve.

Market - On the first day when we went a wondering we came across this market in the square. I never did find out if it was a permanent feature, or if it was simply in place to celebrate Easter. At any rate, it was full of life and bands every evening we went through it. All the tourists huddled round in little groups whilst the homeless people and the Czech locals danced away to the various bands that played. I love parties where everyone dances.



Museum of Medieval Torture - There's nothing like seeing the devices that one human used to inflict horror on another human being to make you feel alive. Or something along those lines. Some of the torture implements used for ill-tempered or quarrelsome women were quite worrying!

Kafka bookshop - They really, really, really like Kafka in Prague. This bookshop was one of many examples. The bottom shelf here is full of Kafka editions, and the top shelves were related or Kafka-esk writers. I managed to duck into lots of the bookshops and the literary scene in Prague seems to be very rich. They have a Prague Writers Festival at the end of May, which seems to include plays and performances. One day I plan to go back for it, because it looked wildly interesting.

Propaganda is one of my favourite words.


This is Sedlec Ossuray, where Charlie 2Moons and I are getting married. Except he doesn't know it yet; but we are. There are no words to describe how beautiful this place is. It's quite the opposite of the catacombs in France, being very serene and quiet, rather than loud and over powering. We all agreed that you felt kind of humbled being in the building, rather than harrowed like when you see the catacombs. It took as a hour on the train to get out to it, but it was entirely work the pittance train fair and the looked-confusing-but-actually-pretty-easy change of trains. I took too many pictures of the ossurary.


This is Kafka. Chillin' out on his own headless shoulders. They really, really, really do like Kafka in Prague. You can also see here how beautiful Prague is, as behind Mr. Franz is a typical Praha street.

Love and Illuminations,
Nicola x