her favorite august

on the last august evening I sat at the local cafe known as Starac, Old Man (and the Sea). I picked up a newspaper and a cheap summer romantic paperback. it is entertaining to a certain level but mostly incredibly boring. the usual summer-by-the-beach literature. this little town that I call my home is made up of less than two thousand people. the beauty of Starac is that it is kind of the centre of everything. locals and tourists come there to have a cup of coffee in the morning as well as a glass of wine in the evening. it is always busy. I chose my spot in the middle just as the sun began to descend. everything glowed in orange, red and yellow; people stopped by; laughed; talked; children drove past on bikes; everyone bathed in sunlight. summer makes people happy; summer makes me happy and particularly in croatia.

countries of the mediterranean are blessed with an atmosphere, food, people and culture that can be found nowhere else in the world. I guess what I missed the most and never realized it, was the mentality of these people. warmer, easy going and with nothing to worry about. two glasses of bevanda made me feel warm, I walked barefoot to the marina, taking photographs along the way. the moon is young tonight. in its first phrase and could be seen while the sun was still out. looking at it I thought it was the symbol of summer. it is my permanent association with my grandmother, in a way.

I walked around, choosing my yachts and thinking of life, thinking of where I could end up one day. but still I am convinced that this is the place I will always come back to. the locals were playing balote, just as always. I even recognized some of the players. it is strange for me to think that some people never move anywhere in their life. it is one of the things that will forever remain unfamiliar to me. I bought ice cream to keep me company on the way home and spent the rest of the night sitting on my terrace and starring into deep darkness that is the night sea. it fascinates me the way light reflections move on the water; disturbing the stillness of everything around, living their own life. and then I thought, maybe I am my own reflection.

and tomorrow it is september.

August 31, 2011