The street where silence blooms

There are streets in Corfu that are impossible to photograph. Not because they are rare, but because they are a feeling. I once came across one like this: narrow, sunlit, with white walls from which shadows of flowers stretch.

No sign. No route. Only pink bougainvillea , which seems to remember summer every day anew. Only pots in which peace grows . Only the sea - there, in the distance, like a breath that you did not expect, but it came.

On a street like this, you don't walk - you slow down . You notice how the wall smells after the heat. How aromas pour from everywhere: a little jasmine, a little dust, a little bread from the neighboring house.

And suddenly you realize that you are not looking for a landmark . You are looking for yourself - the one who can simply be. Without tasks. Without a goal. In an alley where silence blossoms.

📌 Note in a notebook: Corfu cannot be described by addresses. It can only be remembered in the movement of light on a wall. In a petal stuck to a sandal. In a shadow that smells like a flower. And then you are no longer a guest. You are a part.