13:23, a Kestrel flew over me sitting up on the Roman hill. 13:36, no gunshots followed it.
I’m sitting in the sun on top of the world listening to noisy Sardinian warblers. Malta could be heaven if it wasn’t for the hunter’s obsession with exterminating anything with feathers.
Orange bees, Swallowtail butterflies, fig trees, and wonderful wildflowers.
13:48, I heard a gunshot. A reminder that I’m not in heaven afterall.
Sent from my Sony Xperia™ smartphone