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He took a deep breath. The air tasted of hops and possibility.

Pavel never understood why tourists only photographed the astronomical clock. To him, the soul of Prague wasn't in the mechanical apostles, but in the zahrádka —the tiny garden patios spilling out onto the cobblestones, where the real clock was measured in pints of Pilsner. czechbitch com

As dusk fell, they dragged a picnic table onto the grass. They ate the mushrooms on dark rye bread. They drank the Slivovice. And then, the entertainment began. He took a deep breath