A true story.

Falling in love with Prague is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Here, they play house music in every bar. There is no such thing as live bluegrass, but one night while I was drinking a strawberry colada at Deja Vu, a music club off of Jakubská, they played Always Spring by I’m From Barcelona. It was the first electric guitar I had heard in three months.

The Pražan walk like New Yorkers, completely oblivious to anyone else in their path but they have trams in the streets like in Howl's Moving Castle and sometimes if you're sneaky you can ride it from one side of the city to the other for free. They read standing up on lines 53 or 9 or 12, and eat packed lunches outside on benches beside the river just like the tourists. Unlike any natives I’ve met, they openly admire their city as much as the travelers do.

The park that I love the most is outside the city center, up near Letna, next to an old building that probably once held provocative political rallies. I imagine it’s what Prince Albert's Glass Palace would have looked like if it had survived a Cold War, with broken windows and empty rooms and a tall clock tower with hands enchantingly frozen at 12 and 2.

The streets I wander here follow no logic and all of sudden end. My first week I decided I could handle the city sans map and I got spectacularly lost for three hours with nothing but my camera and 50 Czech korunas, with is barely more than 2 dollars. The only thing that kept me from staying out all night was the river; from there I learned it is easy to find my way home.

Here the absinthe is real, the weather temperate and dogs are allowed in every bar. If I never go home, it will be because my heart never learned how to say goodbye.