I read that sunrise is the time to be at Charles Bridge. Somehow after 3.5 hours of sleep I managed to get up, get dressed and wander down the hill to spend some quality time with the altars, the smell of damp concrete, and the sounds of the Vltava.
(So, S, you are absolved of responsibility.)
Two of the best things about spending the year traveling alone are the constant reminders that freedom is inside, not out and the near daily thrill of discovery.
And really, in a lot of ways, it’s that the ordinary becomes extraordinary.
* This is post #666. Insert poorly made post of the beast joke here.