One of the coldest mornings I experienced in Prague. Standing on Letenská Hill before sunrise, the city below was just beginning to wake. Rooftops layered into the distance, chimneys releasing slow trails of smoke into the frozen air.

Then the light shifted. The rising sun filtered through a thin veil of cloud, washing the city in a soft pink glow. For a brief window, the colour lifted everything, rooftops, bridges, and façades, as if the city had been gently re-tinted.

Minutes later, it was gone. The sky dulled back to grey and the moment closed just as quietly as it arrived. Fleeting, understated, and entirely its own.

Photo by: Bradley Basten