The wind brings clouds that brush their muted grey across the sky and choppy caps of white in the reflecting sea. An Island of green lush trees bridges the gap between horizons, vivid in the haze.
Our apartment is far enough away from civilization to deem going anywhere unnecessary, so we read and write and watch the changing light play across the expanse outside our window. A shallow blue cargo ship rises and falls with the tide, moored stationery since morning.
Branches dance in the breeze outside our door, movement tempered by distance, perception. The boat is barely moving. On the island all is still. And beyond, only birds can break the spell.
— Dubrovnik, Croatia