Mea had a simple plan for warm days: comfortable shoes, a notebook, and a fan. The shoes cooperated. The notebook waited patiently. The fan turned out to be excellent company, especially when she stopped expecting quite so much of it.
An imagined journey with Mea Zen, inspired by four original Travel2City photographs. Granada, Seville, Gibraltar and Mallorca form a loose collage of separate stops, not a one-day itinerary.
The narrow passage was cooler. Mea paused just before the arch, where light spilled across the stone, and opened her fan. The first flick sent a strand of hair away from her cheek. The second put it straight back. “Excellent. We have a system.” She laughed and let the open fan rest at her waist. She stepped toward the light slowly, her head slightly tilted, as though listening to someone around the corner. Nobody was waiting for her. She still felt like looking as if she were on her way to a lovely meeting.
Beside the tiles in Seville, the fan briefly lost the contest for her attention. Blue curved around yellow, one ornament led to another, and Mea decided to bring at least a small piece of it into her notebook. She sat at the free end of a bench, folded the fan, and drew three lines. They looked like nothing in front of her. She studied them for a moment, then added: “Deliberately free interpretation.” She nodded, satisfied. That description might prove useful for other attempts at life, too.
The macaque sat on the wooden railing with the expression of someone who had seen enough tourists and their ideas. Mea stopped farther along the path. She kept the fan folded at her side, her bag closed, and offered her best casual smile from a respectful distance. The monkey looked away. “I understand. Too much charm for one afternoon.” This time, she laughed at herself. There was no need to draw anything or put on a performance. She simply watched the animal sit calmly in its own day, then continued on her way.
By the sea, she no longer needed the fan. The breeze arrived on its own, stirred the end of her scarf, and rearranged her hair without asking. This time, she did not correct it. She rested against a low wall and watched the narrow band of warm colour beneath the blue-grey clouds. Masts rose above the harbour to her left; the water carried its own restless movement. The folded fan rested loosely in her hand. For a moment she lifted it, as though proposing a toast. “Good work. Take the evening off.” Then she turned her face into the air and closed her eyes.
“Good work. Take the evening off.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
The world of Travel2City continues between the covers of a book. Discover The Map with No Last Page and more illustrated journeys.
