Hello, Prague. It’s lovely to see you again. You’ve changed a lot since we last met and perhaps it was unfair of me to think you wouldn’t grow or adapt as much as you have. You seem to be some odd amalgamation of Germany, Russia, Poland, and New York’s Times Square. There are touristy shops everywhere, wedged between castles and cathedrals, and you both hate and rely on tourists so it’s a weird, uneasy relationship. You are dark during the day and you light up at night as the tourists disappear back into the comfort of their hotels and your people emerge to play music outside in courtyards, scream at the football matches, and drink copious amounts of beer. There is so much history and bloodshed and loss and life and most of it is buried seven meters below the streets or towering 100 meters above the city lights. Never have I seen a city with so many highs and so many lows, and it reminds me of my own highs and lows. I am settling in to the uneasiness, I am leaning in to the discomfort, I am dropping all expectations of what I thought you would be when I saw you again and I’m simply letting you be what you are. After all, it’s what I would want someone to do for me.