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[Part 1] Prague

It was close to six in the evening, but bright as an Indian summer afternoon. Squinting because of the sun, I faced my phone's front camera, made sure St. Wenceslas and I were both in the frame, and proceded to take a Sharmada classic (read: nervous smile) selfie. After posting it to my family group as evidence of being out and about, my father sent me a private message asking me to photograph with a more normal expression. Oh Appa, if only I could; my selfie game has never been strong.
I found space next to an old lady and her dog on a bench at the Square, unsure of what I should be doing once seated. You see, I had imagined spending European summer evenings taking in the views or thinking deeply about world peace, the refugee crisis, personal life goals or chatting with strangers who would reveal their life stories to me in a Humans-of-New-York-manner, spontaneously. My reality was giving my imaginations a chance to make themselves manifest. Instead, I felt lonely, apprehensive, …

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