There were times when the courtyard at the Golden Sickle seemed like the center of the universe. Events did not occurr unless they occurred (or were at least born) in one particular courtyard in Prague. A thing didn't exist if Kača, Štepán, Tom, or Eric knew nothing about it. Admittedly, the progenitory center of the universe also included a rare and distinct region of the space/time continuum known as The Kačasphere. It included (naturally) the Golden Sickle, the bar next door, the tram running roughly between the hostel/bar and Kača’s own apartment over in a nicely colorful neighborhood in the Žižkov region of Prague. There were times when the courtyard of the Golden Sickle hostel centered nearly my entire photographic universe. During the time I worked night shifts there; consequently, I’d spend my days napping, drinking beer, learning interesting tidbits of Czech (and world) history from Štepán, and regaling him with tales usually involving the sheer number of different peanut butter brands we have in places like Chicago. Peanut butter is a rarity in the Czech Republic, and Štepán has developed quite a taste for it. Quite a number of American travelers have developed a taste for Absinth (I don’t know why.) During one of our long discussions in the Golden Sickle courtyard (over beer, inevitably) Štepán wondered if he should keep in touch with various American guests of the Golden Sickle once they returned Stateside. His idea was to airmail absinth to them, in exchange for peanut butter. Jiff. Smooth, not chunky. The three elements of US-American culture that fascinate Štepán to no end happen to include peanut butter, monster trucks and authentic American Rednecks. This interest has increased substantially: Štepán has cousins who now reside in New Jersey. Štepán himself, now resides in the Netherlands, helping with the family business there. It would seem that plaques produced by Czech artists are a big deal among Dutch connoisseurs of plaques and trophies. Or maybe Štepán's mom just likes living in the Netherlands. It would seem (as well) that Štepán is inordinately happy with his mother’s pet Vietnamese pot bellied pig. As expected, this is a photograph taken in the courtyard of the Golden Sickle, a now-extinct hostel in Prague. Like many Czech hostels, the Golden Sickle was a quirky place, it possessed character, charm, and quite a bit of playful eccentricity. Winter games involved jumping from balconies into snow mounds, or riding bikes around the courtyard (drunk) in order to crash into the bedraggled Christmas tree long past its expiration date. At other times, the owner and staff of the “Lady Moda” store would stage fashion shows in the courtyard, and on random Fridays (minus fashion shows) the Lady Moda Ladies would gather in the courtyard with bottles of wine and more than the average compliment of bawdy jokes, usually involving the nether regions of particularly dubious men. This photograph (found in email I’d sent) marks the first time I’d seen Štepán’s famous green and white socks. It marks the day that I’d first gotten an eye-full of his purely functional fashion sense. If it’s clean, that’s all that matters. If it matches, well…that’s just an accidental side effect of having clean stuff. The green socks are what drew my camera in this particular instance, and now (on the other side of the planet) whenever I see anything resembling green socks, I think of Štepán, the Golden Sickle courtyard, and the endless banter wafting between Kača and Štepán like fronds of very strange kelp in an exceptionally surprising sea. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a fantastic weekend