180 WORDS OF NOSTALGIA
MONTEROSSO, CINQUE TERRE, ITALY
A pleasant new bird whistles through the gardens of our bright blue, beach shack apartment, the smell of an unusual, yet tasteful, firewood burning across the way and the gentle groan of a neighbours car passing the street above. The clouds have, by large, engulfed the sunlight though haven’t yet drowned the beauty. I can hear my own breath alongside the salty crunch of the pretzel sticks. The refrigerator tries its hardest to assert it’s vocal dominance upon natures decibels; to no avail. The air is crisp and the coffee warm. It’s mid-October along the North Italian coast and the seasoned tourists haven’t yet seemed to dissipate. The thrifters continue selling umbrellas in the rain and selfie-sticks in the sun. The travellers concerned more about photographing their gelato than eating it still drift by in numbers. It may not be as warm, as bright, as lively nor as open as the months prior, but the natural beauty hasn’t left this place; just sit there with your eyes, your ears and your mind opened wide, and you will not be disappointed.