Kafka, Prague, and the Enduring Power of Place

A Literary Pilgrimage

tl;dr: Wherein yours truly traipses through the cobbled streets of Prague, following in the footsteps (and tram tracks) of one Franz Kafka. Expect encounters with giant metal heads, unsettling sculptures, and haunting echoes of bureaucracy, all seasoned with a dash of existential gloom (courtesy of Herr Doktor Kafka, not our humble author, thank goodness).

Right then, brace yourselves, dear readers—last week, I was off to Prague, hot on the trail of Franz Kafka, and that’s where I’m taking you now.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking: Kafka and Prague—cliché, right? Tourist with a dog-eared copy of The Metamorphosis? And you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The two are about as inseparable as tea and scones or pub and beer in the stereotypical image of what Londoners look like... So, let me dispense with the preconceived notions and approach this journey with fresh eyes. No need for bureaucratic labyrinths or existential angst on this trip—we’re leaving that to Kafka, or rather to the self-proc…