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Mojacalo. It is 35 degrees Celsius in the shade as I write these lines.
Imagine a strange mediterranean country, the glaring sunlight and the heat of the day still
on those white square houses of the village on the hill, as fishing boats return from a deep blue sea.
There is music somewhere in the distance. A few crickets on the harbour pavement vie with it.
On a sign, written in the strange and intriguing style of this font, it says something like: "Guided tours
March through September: 10, 12, 14 and 16 hours" or maybe "Airport shuttles for all-inclusive travelers: please check Thomas Cook folder at the information desk".
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