Running in the Czech Republic is a interesting predicament. For the past two days I have began my morning with a run down and back up the hill that leads to my Neredin--hostel. Visually the run is extremely stimulating, but contextually it is fascinating. It is very different than the gravel roads and empty highways I hold so dear back in the heartland.
As I pace myself downward, I see an elderly man mixing cement, a woman hanging her laundry, and two students enjoying a cigarette. Upward, I hear the constant beep of car horns and scratch metal wheels hitting metal tracks. Back at my hostel, I see my once white shoes now graying in the city atmosphere and I stand in awe of the juxtaposition between here and my home. Toto, I don’t think I am in Nebraska anymore.
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