The roots seem a tangled mess–it’s difficult to believe they’re part of a living, breathing organism. Everywhere you look, there’s only water and mangrove trees–no real shore to speak of.
His name is Predrag Petrović—Pepi for short, he tells me. A potter from the island of Iz, just off the Dalmatian coast, and I’ve traveled nearly a thousand miles to meet him.
Suddenly, we’re chasing the sun, re-tracing our steps through the old town, taking photos of the same scenes we’d captured hours earlier—only this time, it’s like someone said, “Let there be light.”
No matter how normal a journey it was to the station, the moment I crossed the line, I was suddenly in a bygone era when travel was an elegant affair to dress up for.
From the Pont de l’Archevêché in Paris to the Rialto in Venice, there is hardly a famous bridge that hasn’t been claimed by couples eager to profess their love to the world. An old railway bridge in Cologne is no different.
Over the past year, I’ve been trying to slowly add to my list of UK destinations outside London. To travel around the country enough so that my perception of England isn’t just, well, England = London.