I cannot tell you where this photo was taken. We were moored along the coast of an island off Croatia, that's all I can recall. The islands are idyllic and I was tempted more than once to think this is the perfect life. But then, Croatia was also a very dangerous place to be just 12 years ago, so that kind of thinking is dangerously naive (and ridiculously American). What I see is the people hard-working and warm, a smile I understand, hills steep, the sun hot. A rolling country-side flooded with olive trees, an occasional vineyard, tile-roofed cottages made of stone, an occasional spray of yellow flowers, a life I can look at and even touch, but not live.
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