That morning, Mea chose simple silver hoops. There was no celebration planned. She wanted to go for a walk and feel comfortable in her own skin. Outside, she discovered that the sun had a rather different opinion of her supposedly modest earrings.
Illustrated fiction inspired by original Travel2City photographs. The places come from separate journeys, not a one-day itinerary. Characters, dialogue, props and some composition and lighting are artistic interpretations.
Above Granada, she tucked her hair behind one ear and noticed a tiny bright spot on her hand. She turned her head; it disappeared. She tried again, laughing this time. Roofs, hills and dark cypresses spread below the lookout, yet for a moment her attention belonged to a little piece of silver. There was nothing precious about it. She liked how easily it had become a small celebration.
In Córdoba, she paused beside a red facade with delicately carved arches. The light felt different here: warmer and quieter, as though it had nowhere else to go. Mea settled into her own pace and stopped checking whether her scarf sat just right. The earring glinted again. This time she made no attempt to catch the reflection. She simply lifted her chin and let a little sunlight reach her cheek.
“I do not have to adjust myself every time I stop.”
In the broad square in Seville, the breeze caught her scarf. Mea held it lightly and took two more steps before it settled across her shoulders. If a camera had been waiting, she might have said she was not ready. Now she had no reason to stop. Long arcades continued beside her, her shoes tapped softly and the little hoop moved with every step. This was quite enough.
“An unprepared moment can turn out beautifully too.”
In Madrid, the sun had left the square, but the warm lamps remained. Mea noticed a new glint as she turned towards the illuminated facade. She did not need to preserve or repeat the morning one. Another had arrived, a little softer. She let her hands rest beside her bag and stood quietly. She liked this part of the evening: the city was still awake, and she was no longer hurrying.
“See? The sun has gone, and we still like it here.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
