Montenegro

There was still room in the notebook, though I had started to carry it differently. Less like proof that I had gone somewhere. More like a companion that could be silent.

The mountains rose, the lake widened, and a storm drew a dark sentence over the sea. I watched from shelter. Some pictures ask us to come closer; others are best kept at a sensible distance.

At the end of the route I turned back to the first page. The sentence was still there. Start with the place you think you already know. This time it seemed to be addressed to me.

An imagined travel diary inspired by original Travel2City photographs. Mea’s scenes and words are a creative interpretation, not a documentary account.