#20
Talking of dreams, encapsulated by smoke from the cigar, drowning a little in the smooth sting of the single malt. Not done with travel yet. Some place where the flowers don’t die stifled under snow...
View Article#21
The road to Corte is filled with flowers. The fragrance of the hillside rolls gently down at us, mingling with the memory of the salt scent of sea long left behind. It isn’t going to be a long drive,...
View Article#22
Grey mornings have a sense of forever. The sense of infinity between the moment a flower buds until it blooms, just as the tomato hangs patiently on the vine, waiting for time to ripen it. An...
View Article#23
All the houses looked the same, one after the other. As we turned around the corner, it seems as if we would be walking down this street forever. Then I realised that my route home would have been the...
View Article#24
It was warm in the bar, but the sun had set long ago and the dark amber of the beer resembled the colour of earth. I stole the occasional glance out the window, convinced that snow was fluttering in...
View Article#25
There is no clear equivalent for the Spanish word madrugada in English. Usual translations are: “dawn”, “daybreak”,”early morning” or “the wee hours”—the latter of which is perhaps the most accurate....
View Article#26
The streets of the old city of Melaka crowd close together, a leftover trait from those days where we didn’t need to make room for anything other than the mobility of humans on foot, or perhaps horses....
View Article#27
The sidewalk felt oddly flat under the soles of my shoes. Too perfect. The gaps between concrete slabs have been worn down, rims rounded off by passing city footsteps and hurried walking, but their...
View Article#28
Shrouded by the night sky, the city is a different place. The street lamps shimmer like sequins on her new black dress. Night has fallen fast, sudden and thick. It is too cold to go out, so I stare out...
View Article#29
There was a place, it seemed, that I could only go in my dreams. Last night, in the depths of dreams I was struggling to remember the well-hidden route, the location being marked by a very big tree on...
View Article
