My Last Piece
By Kamal Sunavala

All good things come to an end. That was a cliché I hated. But the terrible thing about clichés is that they are born out of truth. And so it has come to pass. My time in Prague has ended. I am no longer in the city of spires and plum brandy and breathtaking beauty. It is hard to say goodbye and if I close my eyes I can picture the steeples of the church at Náměstí Míru, the beloved square that I could see from my window every day for the last eighteen months that I have lived in the city.

I have left friends behind, I have left languages behind and I have left an entire experience behind. I have moved to a different land, to a different experience and to a different culture and each difference is scintillating and at the same time stings me with the pain of being different. Of not being Czech. If Frank Sinatra meant his song I've Got You Under My Skin for Nancy Sinatra, I hum that tune in memory of Prague. For not only did it get under my skin, it penetrated my mind, my soul and my writing. I am amazed at how a city that started off simply as being a beautiful place to visit became a very major influence in every area of my life. I have moved many times in my life and each country has been a wonderful experience but no place has gripped me so completely as Prague has. I wonder if the Czechs realise the effect their city has on foreigners. Their tourism pitch would be so different if only they knew this.

And so goodbye. Once again the wily Bard was right. Parting is indeed sweet sorrow. I shall miss the delights of cobbled stone streets, the Sunday morning brunches, the late night trams, the view of the castle at night, the sheer joy of knowing that I lived in the most beautiful city in the world.

I shall return in the spring. But only to visit. Someone once said, you can never go back.

I shall miss you, Prague.