I notice more here. Everything is different and new and fresh to me, seeing this world for the first time. There’s Gothic buildings and trams and Czech words covering the street signs and castles. But it’s funny because I notice more of the little things. It’s like waking up. A daughter holding her elderly father’s hand on the escalator down to the metro and a pigeon hopping around covered in sausage grease and little tiny flowers on the side of the road, miraculously alive in February. That stuff you saw when you were little but you forgot to look at once you turned 12 and a phone started buzzing in your pocket and life got covered in things you had to do. The stuff that made you believe the world might be magic. That’s how it feels here. Like magic.