Prague,

Home to my father and his parents, I’ve traveled here under many occasions, always mesmerized by the gothic Baroque style cathedrals and secular culture of laid-back (albeit reserved) individuals. Whenever I visit, I think about the details of my fathers life, from the historical context of Prague Spring in 1968 when they wrapped his mother, my grandmother Babi Dasha, in a carpet to cross the Soviet-occupied border of a then Czechoslovakia, or how my grandfather had to leave his son, my uncle Ivan, in the country as a pawn as to not arouse suspicion of their escape to Switzerland and then return for their final escape out of the country, or how their escape would not have been possible if my grandfather had not won an award at Cannes that landed him a position as an exchange director, which is ultimately what gave him the opportunity to seek political asylum in Switzerland.

Then there is also the interpersonal and generational context; how family trauma is passed along through the generations knowingly and unknowingly. How our imperfections make us human and how we deal with those imperfections as adults. Despite my belief that we can improve ourselves, it does not make it any less difficult to change.

Since the Czech Republic’s liberation, Prague has grown in international reputation as place for tourists, expats, and party-goers of all ages. Our last trip to this remarkable city was to celebrate the life of my grandmother, the dearly departed Babi Dasha. The tradition accommodates drinking from 3 in the afternoon till you can’t stand with the people that knew her best. These photos document parts of that trip during May 2018.