“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
In the unforgettable words of Mr. Beauregarde from “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, “Violet, you’re