In her coat pocket, Mea found a folded scrap of paper. It held an old list of things to get done. Some had been finished long ago; for the others, she could no longer remember the urgency. She turned the paper to its blank side. That looked better suited to a little journey.
An imagined story inspired by original Travel2City photographs. These stops form a collage of separate journeys and days, not a one-day itinerary. The characters, dialogue, clothing, activities and some lighting are artistic additions.
On Trnava’s paving stones, Mea unfolded the paper as if it were a map. It was not. It was a list whose most useful quality was that it no longer had to decide the shape of this afternoon. She paused before the yellow facade and let people who knew where they were going pass by. Then she folded the blank side outwards and put it away. She kept one small task for the walk: notice something she would otherwise walk straight past.
Banská Štiavnica · On the broad path below the hilltop
Near Štiavnica, the pale path led straight uphill. From a distance, it looked like a very concise plan. On its lower stretch, however, Mea found several reasons to take her time: the colour of the grass, the line of the hills and a breeze confidently rearranging her hair. She stopped with her hands in her pockets. The hilltop was not going anywhere. Even if she took nothing but the view from this spot, she would still leave with more than she had brought.
The Tatras appeared above the band of forest so clearly that Mea forgot to open her notebook. Wrapped in her coat, she sat on a bench in the foothills and watched the white lines above the dark trees. She had no climb planned. Today it was enough to see how a mountain could fit inside a view and still fill it completely. The notebook stayed in her lap. She ran a finger along its closed cover, as if informing it that it had the day off too.
Beneath the bridge in Bratislava, Mea felt that the city once again knew exactly what time it was. Trams, footsteps and distant cars all had their own pace. In her pockets, however, she carried Trnava’s light, the Štiavnica breeze and the quiet of the Tatras. The piece of paper was there too. Later, at home, she wrote just one sentence on its blank side: sometimes it is possible to go out without getting anything done. Then she put down the pen and made tea. A little Sunday was still left for Monday.
“This is staying in my pocket.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
