the cafe prague
the cafe prague resides on a side street in san francisco, somewhere between chinatown and city lights. i remember it best as the black and white photograph i took several years ago, the first time i visted the city. there were two or three bicycles parked to the side, and the front windows opened into a small, fenced-in street patio that held two small tables in the summertime. the first day we walked by the restaurant, i imagined the inside draped in lacy, beaded fabrics and completely filled with two-person tables jammed together while the people sitting at them were lost in fascinating conversations that had no end.
the second time i visited the cafe prague, we went inside, and the interior was not as glamorous as i had imagined. in the time that passed between trips, i studied in france and acquainted myself with the salon de the, intimate teahouses that better matched how i had imagined the cafe prague. the cafe prague itself, on the other hand, had wicker chairs that looked too uncomfortable to forget and whitewashed walls that robbed the room of any sexy attributes. the cafe prague i photographed the first time still looks like it will have the people and the conversations i imagined, though it is likely i will never actually drink an espresso or read a book in this place.
the second time i visited the cafe prague, we went inside, and the interior was not as glamorous as i had imagined. in the time that passed between trips, i studied in france and acquainted myself with the salon de the, intimate teahouses that better matched how i had imagined the cafe prague. the cafe prague itself, on the other hand, had wicker chairs that looked too uncomfortable to forget and whitewashed walls that robbed the room of any sexy attributes. the cafe prague i photographed the first time still looks like it will have the people and the conversations i imagined, though it is likely i will never actually drink an espresso or read a book in this place.