Charles Bridge

Deep within my mind lies a cherished memory, a fragile and timeless relic that I revisit often, like an old, faded photograph. It’s a recollection of a foggy winter morning on Charles Bridge, a moment suspended in the past, yet alive within me.

I can still feel the way the mist hung in the air, casting a hushed, mystical aura over everything. Prague was stirring from its slumber, and the world appeared as if it held its breath in silent anticipation.

And there, by my side, you stood. Your hand nestled perfectly into mine, radiating warmth that thawed the winter’s chill. Your smile, radiant as the morning sun, bathed the entire bridge in its gentle light. Our steps reverberated on those ancient cobblestones, marking our journey together.

I recall how your laughter pierced the stillness, a symphony of joy in that quiet realm. The gentle intertwining of our breaths, one warm and the other cool, became a melody that transcended time itself.

We paused, leaning on the bridge’s rail, and I watched as you gazed upon the River, lost in your thoughts. The fog swirled around us, weaving a dreamlike tapestry, reminiscent of a storybook enchantment. In that suspended moment, I realized I was living a dream, a dream I had no desire to rouse from.

As years have quietly passed, that memory has grown more precious, its details sharpening in my mind. The foggy winter morning on Charles Bridge remains etched deep within my heart, a testament to a love as profound and enduring as the river that flowed beneath us….