Built on a history of religious wars and woes of occupation by fiercer nations, you’re weathered and your people are wary. You are old but your buildings are beautiful in their age. You’re a bloody one, with the arm that hangs in the church and the cobble stoned crosses in the square that mark the murder of Catholics by Protestants from defenestration. Your people, they don’t believe in a God after all they’ve been through. At night your streets crawl with pub crawls. Charles bridge stands as watch guard over the city. It crowds full of people all day, except in the early morning when I saw it from the metronome hill. But you’re enchanting. A bit of a showy one, but lovely just the same. You boast you were Mozart’s favorite city, and to create music here would be natural. And my favorite moment within your walls was sitting in ‘bakeshop’ drinking my bowl of coffee, hearing the locals around me with their friends and family. While staring out into your lovely streets.