…He drove past a couple of farmers wearing old-fashioned berets to ward off the harsher sun rays as they battled with the haystacks in their soiled dungarees and with the sleeves of their checked shirts rolled up.
A drove of white and dark brown sheep strutted along the beaten-up country road while bleating at intervals, proclaiming themselves rulers of the bucolic empire and shoving his car to the side, despite the attempts of the tawny herdsman to control the unruly flock. The herdsman smiled at him apologetically.
Then for several minutes, it was just a humdrum stillness and a sporadic low whirring of the car engine, disrupted briefly by the soulful crying of hounds guarding a secluded villa fondled by a cascade of soft, furry, purple-tinged leaves.
Eventually, the cultivated lands gave way to small patches of grasslands seeded with wildflowers, bees, butterflies, broken branches and dry leaves.
Then an apathetic and briny-scented sea breeze broke gently through the stagnant and rising heat, seeping into his nostrils and tinkering with his few remaining hairs.
He was then flanked on one side with high rock limestone formations, while on his left side the garigue gave way to a vast rock-strewn precipice and a chequerboard of rock-cut saltpans bounded by a blue satin-like robe of sea. A solitary yacht with bold yellow sails bobbed up and down on the distant horizon, the only other sign of life in this Arcadian idyll.
§
It was all just as he remembered it.
Then he parked his car on the side of the road as he wanted to walk the rest of the way to the beach…
© 2026 Mario & Melissa Saliba
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