Still, From Here

The pines were the same. The sea beyond them, the same dry summer light.

I had only been here briefly the summer before, and this time was much the same — a few days with family and friends in a place I thought I already knew.

The Mediterranean air was warm and still. Cicadas filled the trees. Laughter carried up from somewhere below, mixed with distant voices and the sound of the sea. Boats crossed the horizon, sometimes barely more than a mark against the blue.

There was more to notice than I expected.

Most of these photographs were made within a few steps of the same spot.

Through the trees, there was always another view. A distant sail against the cliff.

Boats left thin white lines across the water.

As the day moved on, the light became warmer, softer.

And still, there was more to see.

Jitka