when you drink the sky and the moon and see flying kangaroos in Prague

It started the day when the weather was so hot some would see kangaroos flying in the crowns of the courtyard trees. Coming from Sevilla, I was finally feeling at ease, or better said, I was not feeling cold.
As I was sitting in that kitchen where everybody was complaining about the heat I suddenly noticed this glass filled with all the sky and the moon of that summer night.
Prague becomes so beautiful when the sun shines and illuminates both buildings and faces. Since I arrived I could not miss a traditional walk crisscrossing the river, one bridge after the other, carefully avoiding the sightseeing rush on the Charles Bridge for, in the end, for an ex-homie, that one is much better to look at from a hill above or from another bridge.
I had forgotten this little path just across my bridge that I had taken last time some 25 years ago since the restaurant Expo 58 had closed down in 1991. Good surprise to see that the building that impressed Brussels so much together with the Laterna Magica in 1958 was restored (even though it became a stupid office space) and that the view from the other side was still spectacular.
This time, I didn't spend much time in the center, cause, she said, "now the center is "out". Up the hill it's cooler". I have to admit the peaceful  tourist-free streets of Vinohrady district, which used to be covered with vineyards from the XIV's century, were more pleasant than ever on these warm days. No one can guess how tall and how green  the trees are in the vast courtyards of these Art nouveau buildings , no one  but the swallows that loop around her windows just before a summer storm.
Sunday felt as the beginning of a new annual tradition started last year in this beautiful garden of Lysolaje, where old memories flow like wine and taste like summer cherries. In between the grilled chicken and the merguez, the heart seemed to taste best, "tender and bleeding" as he said, after condemning the evil red tuna eaters (or sushi bitches).
The fish specialist (with whom we would never talk if he was selling some defrost frozen fish) gave us the solution to the jelly fish proliferation caused by the progressive extinction of its natural ennemy - the tuna fish - which was, obviously, to export all the jelly fish to China where they eat them. Frozen or defrost fresh, we Mediterraneans could finally get rid of this holiday bummer and make money out of it. A bit later the baking specialist developped a theory on Asians considering the rabbit as a sacred animal  since the Chinese girl he had met once ran away horrified when he proposed her to cook a good dinner with the pet rabbit she had at home.
The conversation turned and whirled about food between us, the fish specialist, the pastry chef, and the boss before it sank in laughter and all the hilarious souvenirs of good old times which I would not dare to repeat here, cause as someone has told me, the best stories are the ones you do not tell. 

If it hadn't been for the eggs that had landed on us from the fourth floor after Saturday night dinner, I would have thought that after drinking the sky and the moon in a wine glass, even in Prague, when it's summertime,  the living is easy.