I have spent half my life sitting on this balcony

I have spent half my life sitting on this balcony, watching the shadows lengthen across the village square below. From up here, the patterns of human movement are as clear as the currents in the sea. I watch the locals, my neighbors, moving in a rhythm that has been perfected over three thousand years of blinding sun and salt air. And then, I watch you—the visitors. I see you marching through the streets at three in the afternoon, water bottles clutching like lifelines, faces flushed a dangerous shade of crimson, looking for a shop that is open or a sign of life. You look exhausted, and frankly, you look confused. You wonder why the streets are empty, why the silence is so heavy, and why the shopkeeper looked at you with such pity when you tried to buy postcards at the peak of the heat.

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