Mea greets an old gateway in Bar. The answer is brief, slightly unclear and just enough to start a little game.
Stari Bar opened itself to Mea a piece at a time: an arch, steps, pale stone, then green slopes and a mountain. There was no need to see everything at once. At the gateway, it occurred to her that a greeting would be polite. And so, in this imagined afternoon, a conversation began for which she supplied most of the words herself.
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.
Stari Bar
Mea stopped before the arch and said a quiet hello. The stone returned something that sounded a little like hello. She glanced behind her to see whether anyone was listening, which made her laugh. She had answered stranger greetings over the years. Adjusting her bag strap, she introduced herself as though meeting an exceptionally reserved hostess.
“Mea. You can stay a gateway.”
Stari Bar
In the courtyard beside a small stone chapel, her voice sounded different. Mea listened as it faded among the open walls. She tried her name once more, quite plainly this time. She liked not having to explain or decorate it. The greenery stirred in the breeze and footsteps shuffled somewhere nearby. An undemanding audience; the programme could comfortably end after a single word.
“Yes. That’s exactly my name.”
Stari Bar
Beside the tower, she waited for the conversation to continue. To be certain, she cupped a hand behind her ear, making the whole situation even funnier. Nothing. The tower had mountains to look at and apparently no need for small talk. Mea accepted its right to remain silent. She took a bottle from her bag, had a drink and then listened only to the air. That was good company too.
“Understood. No interviews today.”
Stari Bar
At a lookout behind a stone parapet, she remembered formally introducing herself to a gateway. That was enough. She laughed so freely that her scarf slipped from one shoulder. This time she did not count how much of the sound came back. Walls, trees and hills spread before her, with plenty of room for everything. Mea adjusted her scarf and stayed a little longer. Nobody needed the last word today.
“Tomorrow, then. But no promises.”
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
Discover the book →Not every answer needs to be a complete sentence. Sometimes a returning sound and the smile that follows are enough. Mea left with a lighter step. The town had not asked for her words, but she was glad she had offered them.
Mea Zen · Colombine MichelangeLove