六月初夏，布拉格吹起陣陣波希米亞風。當地人仍然木口木面，市面亦非花枝招展。
Early June, and the Bohemian wind swept through Prague. The locals remained straight-faced, and the city remained modest and unadorned.
走進千年古都，幢幢建築動輒幾百年歷史，見證前人拋頭顱、灑熱血，吹雞疊馬、壯懷激烈。如今牆外蓋上粉色彩漆，加上窗框雕花、走廊老燈，項項細節層疊層，老舊創新，淡然迷人。在這裏，美麗就是日常，藏於地磚門框中，藏於抬頭踏步間。目不暇給，於是腥風血雨不值一顧，再無閒事應當急躁。
In this ancient capital, blood and tears were once shed on her buildings. Now their façades only wore pastel coats, with window frames mindfully carved and corridors lit by old lamps. Detail upon detail, layered like quiet memories. Beauty was woven into the everyday, hidden in tiled floors and door frames, in glances upward and careful steps below.
城內教堂常有古典樂演奏。畀完十令歐元入場，只見一台鋼琴加個小喇叭，以為中伏。卻是如此小喇叭，粒粒音符盤旋喺石柱與穹頂之間，聽到我入晒迷。高技巧演出，簡單乾脆，撼動心肺，甚有捷克風格。
In a church known for its classical music performances, I saw only a piano and a single trumpet, thinking it wouldn’t be worth the grand total of fifteen euros. Yet it was this little trumpet that had each note spiral through the stone columns and vaulted ceilings — precise, restrained, and utterly moving — an elegance unmistakably Czech.
雖然直白、踏實、不拘言笑，那份友善，當地人傾向用實際行動表現。是但走入間餐廳叫嘢食，待應會提醒份量足，唔夠再嗌。有次電車開到一半，車上電子站牌突然跳綫，身邊有個阿姐失晒方向，鬼殺咁嘈，即有個男士上前細心講解。
Their manner was blunt, solid, and unsmiling. Kindness here, though, took shape in gestures and not grins. Walk into any restaurant and order a little too much; the waiter would quietly suggest it’s enough. On a tram, the display suddenly changes line mid-route. A woman nearby panicked, loud and lost, a man stepped forward, calm and clear, explained everything.
當地人的確係木口木面，市面亦非花枝招展。有種呼吸心跳，不著痕跡，但會迴盪心間。
The locals remained straight-faced, and the city remained modest and unadorned. Yet the notes linger, soft and unseen.