It’s snowing in Prague. The city from the Charles Bridge looks like some Disney fairy tale. I was in Piazza San Marco last week and I really can’t believe this is my life.
I’ve lost track of the days, I wondered last night, in the middle of all of this, when was the last time I was happy. The last time I laughed until my stomach hurt. Conversation without strained sentences, without forced smiles, forced regard. Without having to watch the cracks in the distance. I’ve been missing home since I left and it’s only been a little over a month. I’m not sure my heart is here right now. And it’s ridiculous because this city is so beautiful, it could bring you to tears. But I’m not sure my heart is here. And I will probably never return.
I was having a hazlenut latte for the first time in awhile. It reminded me of home-of getting off the metro at Farrugut West at 9 a.m. and stopping by Starbucks on K st on one of those endless sunny mornings where the air is crisp. And I miss it terribly. I do.
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