today is quiet, peaceful. we sleep until almost two and very slowly roll into conciousness. i order coffee and the room is painted bright yellow and has an air of floral both scent and sight wise. the night before we drew the curtains, they are white along with sunshine light which seeps through giving off this glow that makes me feel warmth. the bathroom is special. she and i shared a bubble bath last night in the deep peanut shaped tub and the morning gives it a different personality altogether and i shower and circle soap on and off and there is glass surrounding me with nothing blocking my view of the windows and the wall on my right is mirrored and i watch myself bathe, chekcing for signs of age and blemishes every so often. Europe treats me well, it always has. we leave eventually and by then the clouds have turned dirty white and we walk to a cafe and sit on the terrace. everything is red, the awning and tableclothes and pillows and napkins. the server brings out the bread in a basket with a red napkin in it. our writing pads are red and all of it works so well with the monochromatic sky, vibrant and bright in a dull muted way. to say the least, it is striking. we rehash yesterday’s events, the randomness and events that can lead from one word to one moment how we ended up with memories of beer pong and loud late night cafes filled with cigarettes and social activity and spliffs overlooking Prague at night. we do this over potato soup. i order the spring vegetables and get the carpaccio and this is why i love Europe. it’s pace relaxes me and we look around at the tables, scattered with women in dresses and conversation in many languages. they are surrounding me and i enjoy this flavor and that, drumming in and out of neighbor’s words. we walk to the city view again and float up and down stairs and soon we are on a quiet tree lined street through a pleasant neighborhood and shuttered windows are spread open with lace curtains breezing in the breeze with purple and silver grafitti alongside on the stuccoed wall of the building. the sun is coming in and out of conciousness but mainly stays overcast and it makes our surrounding that much more weekday silent and i embrace the fuck out of it because this is my kind of day. we go into a cafe thinking coffee and find a boutique that sells records and old books and local art. there are some really interesting album covers and i buy a few along with a hardcover book on old world craftsmanship which has illustrations throughout and it which reminds me of both witchcraft and a dated almanac and the Brothers Grimm. i like it a lot.
we sit with our backs resting against the green and white sponge painted wall on white pillows in a tea room next door. we ring a Tibetan like bell for service and a young man with short hair and a braided ponytail comes over. she orders the Himalayan Shangri La tea and i the Cocoa with oat milk and share a baklava. we sit in quiet chat and comfortable silences and again i listen to the foreign yet familiar words surrounding me. there is a beautiful woman sitting across from us. she sits by an open window and plays with her hair in a way that i love to watch. the warm drinks tastes exactly how i feel and i am exactly where i’m supposed to be.
we explore the other side of the park where a salmon colored church sits and the sun sets down over the city roofs attached to green and pink and yellow buildings and it glows and the leaves on the the trees call out and it is magnificent. we follow a dirt trail that leads us under the church to a forest and a brick wall that reminds me of my first kiss and makes us feel like teenagers and i get bedroom eyes and we lean against a graffitied brick wall and revel in the memory and moment.
a dinner a walk down another set of stairs electric skies that turn magenta in front of our eyes happens and she puts on some eye make up and hotel slippers and we end up in front of four desserts and liquored coffee. i browse through the book i bought and come across an illustration that has a sky is so blue and brilliant that it looks like scratch and sniff and a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson crosses across my mind.