Prague walk idle, muted.
Prague’s old town survived intact, which means the streets are the original width — that is, not very wide at all — and they curve enough that you rarely see more than fifty metres ahead. It makes for a walk of constant small reveals: a lane bends, and there is a square, or a bridge, or another lane. The cobbles are uneven and audible. Across the river the scale opens out and starts climbing, and the change is abrupt.