At Home

I am woken up by the piercing sound of a heavy old bell tolling. 7 a.m. The city is already wide awake, people are crossing the streets, traffic lights are battling for maintaining their dominance upon the dusky alleys. They're losing their fight, however, as the golden rays of sunshine penetrate the clouded skies above. Another morning, another beginning of something brand new.

Every day is a mortal combat for me. Still, I'm always excited about the chances it gives me. Each time the sun rises and illuminates the insides of Henry's Bell Tower, my abode and sanctuary, it's like a blank sheet of paper. Myriads of opportunities appear and my dull life gets a fresh new start. Another 24 hours to spend looking for food and wandering around the beautiful corners of this city, the City of a Hundred Spires. In other words - Prague.

I love this place and although my life here seems quite mundane, there are so many little things happening that surprise me each and every day. As I wake up, the first thing I do is to check my friend Charlie from neighbourhood. We've known each other since we were born 3 years ago. We spent our whole childhood playing and fooling around, while our parents were solitiously searching for food. Oh, the good ol' times.

Seeing Charlie's grey wing peeping out of the cranny in the school roof across the street puts a weight off my mind. I formed this habit of checking his presence last winter, when I found out he wasn't home. I'd been looking for him for two weeks, before finding him, emaciated and underfed, cowering on the rooftop of the railway station's building. It was horrible seeing him in such conditions. Since then, I oversee him every morning. I have always been the responsible one. Perhaps it's because I'm two days older.

Then I look on a bench in the park opposite the Tower. There's nobody sitting there yet, but I know that in 20 minutes, an old beggar in tattered and grimy clothes will come and examine the contents of every single wastebasket. With his loop, he's going to occupy the bench for the rest of the day while watching pupils and students passing by. Actually, I look after all these children in a way. I don't know anything about them, except for a few names I've managed to catch during the years of my stay up here, but still, I've grown fond of them. Of course, I would not be able to do anything, if the bagger decided to cause trouble but keeping an eye on them makes me much calmer.

Suddenly, my stomach grumbles and I realize how hungry I am. I need to get some food, before another flock comes and eats everything. As the saying goes; the early bird gets the worm. So I stretch my wings and fly towards the Wenceslas Square. That's my favorite place to have breakfast. Or lunch. Or any meal, basically. People there are so generous, the ground is covered with breadcrumbs and sometimes, I even manage to get a marsel of that delicious sweet pastry sold on every corner. Oh yes, the Square...

After breakfast I spend some time chatting with my friends and roving about. The weather is great today and people are everywhere. Most of them are tourists, the ones who come, take a picture or a selfie and then leave forever. They don't bother me but I like the natives more. I have a special place in my heart for them. Especially the ones I meet every day.

Just like the lady who solds newspapers on the corner of the street or the bookstore's keeper, guarding the place vigilantly. Those are the Praguers, those are my people. I love watching them, scrutinizing every single move they make. They mean everything to me, they make me feel at home. And that's where I'm at. I am in the city. I'm in Prague. I'm home.

Barbora Trnková, VII. B