Melting Pot

The Nocturnalist / June 21, 2019

The clicking of heels on the pavement are a melody that I associate with the purest of loves. Horse carriage rides are yet another tourist attraction that take part in night life here in Prague, but they differ from the rest. At night the city turns into one big party – pubs and bars and clubs galore. Although the heart of the city speaks this truth the loudest, it manages to accommodate more than just the majority crowd. 

A stroll in the streets will guarantee greetings by drunk bachelor parties and puddles of spilled alcohol, but will occasionally bring the alternative of couples, young and old, living in their own little world for the night. Amidst the chaos of the square on a weekend night, I found myself sitting on a curb from exhaustion of the culture. A few minutes passed and I lifted my eyes to see this picture approaching me. 

At first, I saw the instance as a perfect picture opportunity and got my camera set as quickly as possible. But the second that the couple in the back aligned parallel to me, I dropped the camera and just watched. It felt like a crime trying to steal such a fragile celebration. This place, meant for anything but a moment of intimacy, was home to exactly that for a fleeting moment. And as the pair faded into the mayhem of the sunset city before them, the gentle clicking of cobblestone and hoof remained. The tune stood stagnant in the air, overwhelming the laughter and shouts and rush of the crowd. I hope the same melody is a part of my future.