In the early days of September, I wandered a city with walls that stretched on forever. I went out each morning with the intention of getting lost. My sandals wandered alleys where cream stone shone in sunlight around each twist and turn. Orange tiled rooftops created a quilt over buildings below.
I drift in the water of the Adriatic Sea, my body floating with my arms in a T shape. It’s just me, the water, and the sky. I pick up the distant whir of an engine under the surface. Lifting my head from my bed of waves I see a small boat zip by. I look around and see blue, orange, cream and green. They are the colors of Pučišća.