So, Legerova, the nastiest downtown street you can only imagine. Wide, noisy, very pedestrian-unfriendly, unlike most other streets in the city. It smashes into the city center straight from the lovely Nuselsky bridge, the great place for both pretty views and successful suicide attempts. Then it runs past some serious-looking buildings in the New Town, winds around the main train station, and gets dispersed somewhere around Holesovice and Mala Strana. In the New Town, hotels, hostels and pensions press themselves against the walls, scared by the never-ending traffic. I believe this was sprayed onto the transparent wall of a telephone booth by someone who lived in one of these places. Can't imagine a Praguer writing something so multicultural, so defenselessly uniting. But the two spelling mistakes suggest it still could have been a non-Native speaker. And anyway, the phone booth in this city are mostly used for heroin injections by gypsies, especially around the main train station. Every booth you pass looks like a tiny Lynchean stage with skulls and weird smiles dancing in the dark. I enjoyed staring at the traffic current through that window with these vibrant words painted onto it. Why I even was in that street? I was going to my preferred legal assistance company, a bunch of nifty Russians who know their way around local red tape. It's such offices of such companies where people in Prague really get together, I thought.
