It was difficult to look away from the mesmerising silver head. Unlike your bog-standard statue, this one was split into tens of lateral slices, each one rotating at a different pace and often in different directions. The overall effect was of something solid rendered liquid – the shifting movements bringing together and then unforming the subject’s face in a play on identity and perspective.
Whatever I’d expected from the historical city of Prague, I was sure that this was not it. In fact, I can tell you exactly what I’d expected: golden stonework and medieval towers, rich food and heavy beers, not a tongue-in-cheek oversized rotating head of Franz Kafka, one of the city’s most famous past inhabitants.
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