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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My current fixation with doors has dragged me down once again to Valletta, and for another time I have discovered new angles, new sides which hath remained in the dark for all the time when I visited. Today the light sheds from the warmth of the “lanterns” that have inspired me to look within even further. Accompanied by two friends to observe or appreciate further the magnificence of this place we moved along the narrow streets.

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Listening to the ticking sound of an old clock, resting on a table now empty, wondering on thy past. Sensing the smell of a pie who’s creator rests within the world of dreams. Beside me on this table, carved with with a knife called time, rests a bunch of apples, as small as a bunch of wild berries, which in Maltese we call a “Merh”.

The window, wide open letting the cool breeze inside, helping my pencil through its scribbling symphony, wondering what else to draw, wishing no end for this timeless moment.

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There is no one to wave to, and as I am slowly lifted to the second level towards passport control I ask myself if there is really anything to check, I pass through like an ant through Porte des bombes. The stillness in the area is unbelievable, the fluorescent tube just on top of me flashes through its intermittent behavior as if trying to survive its last moments of shine, the plants green but lifeless. The British white haired couples settled in an un-organized method on the seats remaining in the departures lounge, myself in an un-obstructed angle, anxious but calm, waiting and observing.

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I met a pebble on the beach, who related her story, “I have traveled for so many miles”, she said, “but still remaining in the same place, today I rest here on this soft comfortable sand, cuddled by the suns’ rays, today I met you, why don’t you tell me your story”.

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I walked without a destination but only a direction, driven to an unknown place. And I walked until I heard nothing more than the whistling sound of the wind and the crushing waves against the rock beneath me.

I looked out towards the horizon and there was nothing accept the dividing line between the sea and the sky. Then I looked behind me and again there was nothing accept the storm that had yet to come. It would have rained but not yet, no the heavy clouds shall wait until everything was clear. They waited for the right moment.

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