Day almost last; Leaving tomorrow. General is really looking forward to it, he has ran out of books (He catches onto his yearly dose of literature within this fortnight), whereas I always want to stay a little bit more, just a little bit longer … Insatiable little cricket, I know. But I have just fallen into a routine and gotten to know the grounds and have spiralled out to explore. I need more time. I discovered an ancient city last night, I mean, I didn’t fall into a hole and found it, it’s the capital of the island, but once I actually hotwired the car and drove across the terrain in search of something resembling a coconut ice-cream, it turns out it’s not a tourist-y city at all, it’s actually an old Roman fort with a medieval trade state built upon in and then some. I have to look closer into it. There is a hilltop alley with seven or so churches lined one after the next and I spotted a plaque on one, saying this was built by the noblewomen of Rab … to think there were officials here, mighty clergy, princes and rich merchants … I thought it was just a pretty rock with recent forests of pines and figs spread over it. Really should stop assuming… Or wishing for the world to have begun only in books, while in reality it should have slept until my arrival.

The beach, half private, lonely mostly now, that the camp is less full, has for me every morning a secret message written in the sand. I cannot tell you it’s really for me or whom is it from or what exactly it says, but there are simple hieroglyphs drawn there every day, as if someone knows I will be the first to arrive and find them. It’s stuff like coffee cups, car, road, ice-cream, the shape of this isle with a cross marking some spot… Child-like, but not child-like enough to be random. In my brain that is a clear invitation to an ice coffee in town … but no time, no rendezvous place, no idea how to accept the invite. I pretend it may be from an Ezra Miller-look-alike teenager I keep running into and never really finding an opportune line to start talking to him. He seems like he wants to start a conversation, but is too shy and we’d have a language barrier to gap. Ah, well. Opportunities to take photos of beautiful people. I miss more than I grab. It’s just how I roll.

Accidentally kicked sand onto the watercolours today, while rescuing them from a wave. Useless fucking pillock.