I wrote a poem
Dedicated to the old and new versions of me.
For I was young, headstrong and wild.
A bit more composed and sagacious now.
I got friends, made a few foes.
Witnessed humanity at its high and low.
Too belligerent to made peace with the world.
Wouldn't change a thing though.





I traveled to Prague,
where intellectuals and artists congregate.
Finding peace in chaos and solidarity.
Collecting knowledge in castles ruins and on St. Charles Bridge.
Spring scene filled with Kafka's melancholia and Mucha's elegance.
The ancient spirits they said: sic transit gloria mundi,
Yet I don't see that happening here in Czechia.