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All for the sake of today, he wrote upon his wall. 

He wrote it upon his wall as he remembered that it had been his actions the very ones that had now brought him to where he was today. 

He had multiple times voiced that he didn’t want her by his side. He did not, and truly rejected, entering on a new road of life with someone by his side. 

And now, here he was. 

Exactly where he had said he wanted to be, alone, and utterly living a life with no one by his side. 

But “all for the sake of today” he repeated to himself out loud as he walked a few steps backwards away from the wall and looked upon the written words brightly shining on the freshly painted wall. 

Paint dripping off the letters “A” of All and “day” of today. 

His heart wrung with anguish at the thought that yet again another had walked away. 

She had walked away, and though he knew he had told her clearly he didn't want her, he also knew it had been his intention for her to hold on to him just a little longer. If only they could fight, just one more time. 

If only they would try, just one more time, he would be able to see that they were truly committed. Yet, none of them stayed. 

All walked away. 

And it was for the best in the end, he knew. 

For alone he had grown to live and alone 

he would grow to die. 

Like Father, like Son

There is something so beautiful in the live portrait that is next to me on this last night in one of my most favorite cities in the world. The counted hours and mere seconds, though unaware have kept on counting the uncountable, they have for now and at least for me counted down to the last few hours I will be in Prague. As such, I decided to have a ritual of my own. A goodbye to my beloved. What started with a late evening lunch at my favorite café Saldkvosky then moved on to my next favorite cafe Kavarna Sláger with a double cappuccino and a slice of raspberries cheesecake. Writing and reading, and drinking and eating. The hours drew on painting the bright blue sky with its dark night hues and sprinkled lights here and there. In the midst of reading If on a winter’s night a traveller I looked to my left and caught the eye of an eight year old boy—my assumptions of course. I smiled and he smiled faintly, with the awareness that I am a stranger. His father joined him a few seconds later as well as a huge slice of chocolate and whipped cream covered cake—or cheesecake— accompanied by a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. The father only sipping on a beer, perhaps. And as the boy enjoys that cake with great delight that only a child can, the father speaks to him in Czech and watches him with tender eyes. It is not merely the fact that on a Tuesday evening here is a father and son sitting across each other having an actual conversation. It is not merely the fact that this boy is enjoying the delights of sugar as any child desires, but here is the portrait of a relationship so intimate unobstructed by the countless—and yes these are countable— things that have come between so many fathers and sons, mothers and daughters.  

It is by far more precious than the hundreds of years old statues around the city and far more worthwhile than gazing at the beautiful, and colorful buildings that are spread around the city. 

Unfortunately, I did not have the privilege of growing up or even meeting my own father. And though I have wondered one too many times what it would be like to have had him, I can say that for now, this image, this most vivid and live image of father and son sitting next to me has imprinted the perfect emblem of what I would like to have the day I can have a family of my own.  A perfect way, in my opinion, to say, until next time my beloved Prague.