SNAITH-narrative writing- portofino



Speckled with white tufts of cloud, the sky is a deep azure blue. Only one bird is soaring high- the rest flutter and chirp over the cliff tops, calling for their food.  Terracotta tiles topping kaleidoscope buildings impinge on the vast sky.

No-one can see them up there, hiding away- but me. Working discretely under the eaves are the locals; many shy away from the hustle of the tourists. The bread rises, the fish are caught, and still the tourists…


No comments have yet been made