If you live in a crowded city that is full of aimless and unaesthetic concrete blocks and people always seems to rush, Prague will make your head dizzy a little bit, I warn you.
Because when you feel Prague with its antique atmosphere which is everywhere from its bridges full with statues to the pubs that has countless different beers and its patterned cobblestoned pavements that lead you always somewhere magical, you could not help yourself but want to live there.
Yes, it is also crowded and noisy sometimes; however, it seems to me that this city has its own kind of music. Mumblings in Czech, a language which gives the feel that is created outer space, street musicians with their smiling faces, the soothing noise of Vltava river.
Towers of cathedrals and churches sprinkled around the city are worth to mention since they give an unforgettable ambiance to the mind. Also, there is a little chance of you to come across such meaningful artifacts in one little place which overwhelms you since it makes you feel small and useless in your world.
The streets of Prague were a fantasia scarcely touched by the twenty-first century—or the twentieth or nineteenth, for that matter. It was a city of alchemists and dreamers, its medieval cobbles once trod by golems, mystics, invading armies. Tall houses glowed goldenrod and carmine and eggshell blue, embellished with Rococo plasterwork and capped in roofs of uniform red. Baroque cupolas were the soft green of antique copper, and Gothic steeples stood ready to impale fallen angels. The wind carried the memory of magic, revolution, violins, and the cobbled lanes meandered like creeks. Thugs wore Motzart wigs and pushed chamber music on street corners, and marionettes hung in windows, making the whole city seem like a theater with unseen puppeteers crouched behind velvet.
―Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone
As Taylor describes beautifully, Prage is a city of fantasy.
Deserves to be a fantasy.