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Earlier this year, I spent a quiet February day in Kostelec nad Černými lesy — a small town not far from Prague that feels a world away once you arrive. I wrote about that day before: a slow wander through castle grounds, a stop at a blue-door café, and the simple joy of finding sea buckthorn tea in a local health shop.
This week, I finally developed the roll of film I shot there — a Czech-made Fomapan 200, black-and-white and full of that gentle grain that seems to hold time still.

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The Museum That Wasn’t Open

One of my favorite frames from that day shows the Museum building from outside. It wasn’t open — weekdays in February rarely are in small towns — but that made it feel even more peaceful.
What caught my eye wasn’t the building itself, but the small Park sign beside it and an abandoned scooter leaning against it. Something about that quiet mix of everyday life and history made me stop and click the shutter.
Film loves details like that — the kind that would be invisible if everything were loud and busy.

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Nostalgie u Hrnčíře

Another frame captures Restaurant u Hrnčíře — I smiled when I saw the words painted on the facade: Nostalgie u Hrnčíře.
It felt like the perfect name for that moment and for the whole trip. A little nostalgia, a touch of warmth, and the sense that life used to move at a slower rhythm — and maybe still does, if you let it.

If you ever find yourself in small Czech towns like this, you’ll see signs like these everywhere — hand-painted, imperfect, and full of charm. They remind me that simplicity has its own kind of beauty.

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Quiet Corners of the Castle

My third frame is a window of the castle. I loved the way the winter light fell through, catching the uneven glass and the heavy stone around it.
Fomapan film gives those soft midtones that turn ordinary light into memory — not dramatic, not sharp, just real.

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Faith and Wood

The last photo from Kostelec shows the side of the church, with a wooden cross standing quietly beside the wall. No people, just stillness.
It’s one of those scenes that feel timeless — you could have taken the same photo fifty years ago, and it would look almost identical.
That’s one reason I love shooting film. It resists urgency. It makes you wait, think, and look twice.

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On Slow Travel and Slow Photography

Slow travel and film photography share the same heart. Both ask you to be present, to notice the texture of stone, the sound of your own footsteps, the way light changes in winter.
You don’t come home with hundreds of images — just a few, but each one matters.

If you’re curious to try black-and-white photography yourself, I used the local Czech Fomapan 200 film — it’s affordable, forgiving, and beautifully classic. All you need is a simple 35 mm camera and a bit of patience.

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What Comes Next

The same roll of film holds more small stories — from Karlovy Vary and from a walk through Holešovická tržnice and Stromovka in Prague. Each frame feels like a page from an old diary.
I’ll share those soon — moments that might have seemed ordinary, but now feel quietly special.