Tinos

Cobalt shutters press sharp against pale walls on the Tinos hillside, a thin line of sea caught in the distance.

Everything seems held in the warmth of a late afternoon. See how the shadows stretch across the stones here? They pull us up that narrow way, between the houses. The white on the walls is so clean, almost sharp, set against the deep cobalt of the shutters and that sliver of sea. A little ochre warms the stone underfoot. The lines of the buildings are so clear, but the sky just breathes. It’s softer out there. The light feels direct, leaving cool shadows pooled in the doorways. There are no people. Just the quiet. A held quiet settles over the village, slow as the afternoon itself.