A Croatian summer does not arrange itself by date in memory. What stays is a palm against stone, green light between leaves, and the look of a bird that sees no reason to apologise for being beautiful. Mea gathered four such moments from several journeys. In each one, she briefly forgot where she had been going.
Illustrated fiction inspired by four original photographs from the Travel2City archive. Dubrovnik, Trsteno, Lokrum and Poreč form a collage of memories, not a one-day itinerary. Mea is a fictional character; the situations and inner monologues are creatively imagined.
From below, the steps had looked romantic. Halfway up, they had developed opinions about Mea's fitness. She untied her scarf, rolled up her sleeves and rested a palm against the wall. The shaded stone was cool: a small, entirely convincing reason to stay still. Crockery clinked somewhere above her; the smell of lunch drifted from a window. Mea smiled at her original plan to reach the top without stopping. Nobody else knew about it, which made an elegant revision very easy. Before moving on, she let her fingertips travel once more across the wall. This was what she would remember about the steps.
Among the bamboo, the light turned green. Mea went a few steps farther in and stopped squinting. She took out her notebook: at last, she would write something down. Then she began using it as a fan. It worked beautifully, particularly while closed. She tied her scarf to the bag strap and let a little moving shade fall across the back of her neck. The leaves rustled overhead without feeling obliged to explain anything. Nothing was added to the clean page that day. As she put the notebook away, she noticed a tiny flash of sunlight between the leaves and watched it for a while. Her schedule was quite full, really.
The peacock stood on the rock as if he had reserved it, view included. Blue neck, green feathers, an impeccable reluctance to hurry. Mea stopped at a polite distance. She had been rather pleased with her dress that morning, but the competition had arrived prepared. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The peacock turned his head just enough to acknowledge her, then returned his attention to the water. No spread of feathers, no performance on request. Mea laughed quietly. They remained there a little longer, each keeping their own patch of space. When she walked away, her shoulders were a little straighter.
In the harbour, the masts reached into the sky while their reflections bent gently in the water. Mea let her gaze rest against one of those lines. The notebook stayed closed beneath her arm; the scarf lay loosely across her forearms. The air no longer wanted anything from her. A couple passed behind her, a moment of laughter rose, and then there was only water beside the boats again. She thought of the cool wall, the bamboo and the peacock with his faultless self-confidence. Each journey had left her something she could never have bought. She waited for the nearest reflection to ripple apart and gather itself again. Then she slowly walked on.
“I don't have to go just yet.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
The world of Travel2City continues between the covers of a book. Discover The Map with No Last Page and more illustrated journeys.
