SeablueDreaming

A village on the Silver Way, somewhere between yesterday and today, on the road to Santiago. Here, the bells toll lazily, as if they, too, have learned the art of waiting. Time stands still, so still it almost dissolves. In this silence, there is space to lose thoughts and find the soul. White houses with red shingled roofs rest in the sunlight, oranges, and lemons hang heavy from the trees. Cats move silently through the alleys, while the villagers retreat to their midday rest.