Milan's Curtain and the Edge of the World

The reason for the lack of update is this:

I have been reading Milan Kundera's The Curtain and I just can't put it down.

As someone who writes for his daily bread, it is inevitable that I harvest some kind of fantasy about writing a novel or prose or simply longish-length drama. And this is an amicable companion to the journey, albeit not without plenty of insights that open my eyes to other possibilities of the form.

This book is a celebration of the novel par excellent.

Reading this also brought me back to Prague. And in between the lines, I returned to the edge of the Rudolfinum, where the Vltava snakes out, and where I caught a glimpse of the castle and basked in that fleeting spell.

The exact same feeling as when I took the above picture.

Ahoj, Pan Kundera! Děkuji!