“I’d heard it said before that Prague was a fairy-tale city. Watson repeated it now as we made our slow progression in from the airport. Steepled roofs, pastel buildings, cobbled roads an switchbacks. An astronomical clock that stood stories high in a public square. I’d been there once before with Milo when we were children. Our Aunt Araminta had decided we needed “culturing”. I think she may have mistaken us for bacteria.”
