“In Piran the sun sinks into the sea, at its most beautiful at sunsets, slowly sinking while summer is at its peak.

When the scent of fig trees arrives and the breeze brings the smell of rosemary, which flourishes among the bay leaf plants

in the hidden gardens of the compacted houses. Crowded against each other, they climb. The streets are narrow; their companion,

who returns after a fleeting moment, the shining of the midday sun.”