Like footprints in the sand which slowly fade away, my thoughts swiftly flow through, whilst the wind blows my sun scorched face here in Golden Bay. The sea, symphonically rushing its way through the pebbles which rest upon the sea bed. Nothing to see accept the sun, slowly fading away in the horizon reflecting its warmth for the last moments of the day. I look up towards the skies, and all I can see is a tower, which like a chameleon has adapted to its surroundings maybe to protect itself, to survive through the turmoil of time and mankind’s greed for power.

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In pairs we walk through the tunnel, contained through a rusting fence, prohibited from moving around within a diameter of a maximum of 5, maybe 7 meters. The wooden benches carved and tattered, aged through the passage of time and the weathering of this anguished environment, dirty, filthy, unwelcoming. The walls, dug out by the blowing winds of winter and scraped by the scorching rays of summer, a process recalled by these walls for ages. The obscene frescoes on these walls are the only most recent addition which contrary to the rest seem to increase as more of us pass by through the years. Graffiti that display history, nationality and maybe even state of mind.

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In here like an ant I rest, until the next stop, meters below the ground, I travel looking at them who in turn look back to me. No one to talk to, no one to smile to. An individualistic life, a being, a breeding host, traveling together and apart, at the same time.

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No it was Earth Garden organized at the National park in Malta. Visited on Saturday, even though it was grey, rainy and windy. The sun, hidden within a mile thick cloud as grey as a navy vessel, the droplets of rain almost defying the rules of gravity.

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All right so it’s a sunny day and it turns out to be one after a detrimental four day long foggy type of weather which does not permit you to see up to a distance of a few kilometers (Maybe I am too sarcastic here). So together with my wife we decided to make a visit to the old city and enjoy the sun there and chilling out. Grabbed the Cam and off we went.

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I was inspired by the aroma of coffee. The taste, the moment of sipping this cup slowly……

Watching the boiling fumes of this cup of coffee I thought how much the price changes from location to another. At the Malta International Airport it costed me EUR 1.75, a coffee from a renowned hotel in sliema costed me EUR 1.60 and a coffee from Zurrieq just down to the blue grotto tourist attraction costed me EUR 0.60c. So now I ask myself what was the difference, maybe it is the bean, or the milk, or could it have been the water, or maybe the whole mixture, or could it have been the way it was presented or the location, and so on and so on, I continued to contemplate why………

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