Quiet Hours

I'm walking with Ann and Jessie on a cold winter night in Prague in search of a Coke. Actually, they're buying something else - I'm the one with the soda crave. There's nary a soul in sight, and the silence is deafening. There's no sound to be heard - not even wind.

If there were fog, I'd rename this city Silent Hill.

Lawnchairs in a Theater

Apparently, in Prague, one can buy a glass of beer and drink it while watching a movie at a theater.

That's what I saw tonight as three guys took their seats at Bio OKO, right before Black Dynamite (Černej Dynamit) began. Two of them also sat in beach chairs;  they must have preferred laying down as opposed to sitting in the velvet recliner-like seats. Personally, the regular wooden floor-attached seats were fine for me.

Interpretations

I've always found it odd how a play can be produced in a varied amount of ways. Multiple interpretations gleaned from the reading I can understand, but I always figured that it could only really be produced in a single way, as the playwright intended. This likely stems from personal grievances I can see myself having if (when?) my work is seen in a light different from what I envisioned. After all, it's my work, isn't it? That's probably my ego talking, though.

Last night, I attended a performance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead at the Alfred ve dvoře theatre, not far from Holešovice. It was produced by the group Blood, Love & Rhetoric (I only realized the significance of their name until I read a quoted passage from the play in the program), with the aid of the English College in Prague. It was an entertaining performance that furthered my love of the play's banter on existence, games, and death. What I didn't expect, though, was the sexualization of characters and situations.

A Boy and His Dog

I just realized I haven't seen my dog in quite a while. Actually, I may have seen him on Skype when I last spoke to my parents but I'm plagued by uncertainty. I miss the little bugger, even if he does get on my nerves. It's a comfort to see him asleep behind me, or basking in the sun in the front yard. He's a friend, and he's always there.

Though I don't see my Seraph, I do see dozens of dogs here in Prague. The prevalence of canines throughout the world is quite astonishing. This animal, domesticated ten thousand years ago, is a noble friend to every race on every continent - I'm sure there are sleds led by dogs in Antarctica. These creatures bond with us on a deep level, and we to them. Other animals at times get that close to us, but one can't deny the power of the dog, who have been by our sides as the years and millennia go by.

The other day - might have been yesterday - I saw a black Labrador-like dog walking along the street. Its female owner was a few feet behind. Right before crossing the street, the dog stopped and its owner put its leash on, came over to the tram stop, and proceeded to place a muzzle over the dog's head. She was very kind, whispering Czech words to her buddy. On the tram ride, the dog's head was cast down; its owner even questioned it. I wondered if she asked, "What's wrong?" in Czech.

Here in Prague there are a lot of dogs. I see them every day, out on the sidewalks for a stroll with their owners. No, not owners. Partners is more like it. See, unlike in New York and Miami, a number of the dogs are off-leash. They are not pulled by a person but rather walk alongside them. It's fascinates me.