“There are two things true about living in the city; either it’s incredibly easy to stay in-shape or exceedingly difficult. You can take the former route, with the countless metro steps and chasing after trams, forgetting lunch in favor of Outlook, or cocktailing post-workdays and putting dinner plans on snooze. With the . . .”
“Eggs. Soft-boiled eggs, fried or poached eggs, take them scrambled, bake them au gratin, butter them with an omelette, or present the billowy egg-whites in a majestic French souffle, but however you take yours we can surely all agree that eggs truly are amazing. What transformative little gems, too, wouldn’t you say? . . . “
“Today I didn’t awake with my usual zest for the morning. I didn’t spring from the bed like a hot Pop-Tart straight from the toaster, either. No running shoes, no New Wave synth favorite to sing along to in the bath. In fact, the only meaningful action I took was to hit snooze. . .”
At present, I am reading Thomas Mann’s masterpiece “The Magic Mountain” about a young man from Hamburg who visits his cousin at a tuberculosis sanatorium in Davos, Switzerland . . .
Fall has officially arrived in Prague with unromantic fanfare. Autumn, the season that always seems to creep up on us much too fast and sucks the life straight from the
In the unforgettable words of Mr. Beauregarde from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, “Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!” has begged me lately, have I been that grating, consuming purple little
Putting our car into reverse and backing out of the cottage yesterday, I turned and realized the back seat was covered with mushrooms. The cushions were actually rendered invisible in
After almost 1,000 kilometers, I have finally returned to the city homestead; Prague. A birthday rendezvous on the sun-blanched shores of Croatia, dappled with Germans and Italians and pastel umbrellas.