On the first step, Mea had a simple idea: she would count them. Then she would know how much work her legs had done. This Spanish collage soon reveals that accurate numbers require concentration, which old lanes, towers and a courtyard are quite willing to divert elsewhere.
Illustrated fiction inspired by original Travel2City photographs. The places come from separate journeys, not a one-day itinerary. Characters, dialogue, props and some composition and lighting are artistic interpretations.
In the Granada lane, things began very well. First step, second step, third. Mea had a system, and the system was in good spirits. Then she noticed a balcony, a doorway beneath it and another narrow turning beyond. At the next step, she was no longer certain. Starting again would mean stopping her looking. She continued with a number that sounded approximately right. Approximation seemed a reasonable compromise for the moment.
“Which was the last one? The one before that lovely balcony.”
In Santiago, she decided to be more methodical. A stone wall drew her gaze upwards, and the stairs offered a respectable new beginning. Then a tower appeared among the roofs. Mea looked up and stopped. At that exact moment, the number left her memory as peacefully as though it had never had a job there. She did not resent it. If something had to give way, she was glad it was not the view.
“The calculation is looking upwards for a moment.”
Beside the grand staircase, she sat to one side, out of everyone’s way. Her legs welcomed the break despite receiving no precise performance report. Mea tried to recall the last certain figure. Instead, she remembered a door handle, paving stones and the shape of a window. She laughed. Her memory was clearly keeping its own accounts, perhaps better ones than hers, preserving the things that had made the climb worthwhile.
“My legs know we are here. They no longer need the number.”
The circular courtyard in Granada offered a different kind of order. Columns repeated, the ground was level, and the centre invited her simply to stop. Mea smiled at the thought that she could now count the columns. She allowed the idea to pass without a vote. After a few steps, she looked up. This time she lost nothing. With no number to guard, the whole courtyard remained available for ordinary curiosity.
“I shall not count the columns today. I am on holiday.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
She recorded no total in the notebook. It was enough to say there had been plenty of steps and even more reasons to pause. That seemed an unusually reliable piece of information.
