Fifth Journey Day 110: Harbor in a Single Grain

Date: August 26, 2025
Location: Tyre, Lebanon

This afternoon, I sat at the fishing harbor in Tyre. The boats looked old, and their colors were faded and chipped. But they still looked bright, like the sea had kept them that way. Nets were being pulled and folded, hands moving with quiet familiarity. The sound of rope against wood, of gulls that did not leave, blended with the steady slap of water against the stone. I let these small rhythms slow my own breathing.

I noticed how the light shifted across the boats' surfaces—at one moment dull, and at the next a sudden gleam. Children ran across the pier, their voices light against the slower pace of the fishermen. It reminded me of how places have many layers of time—the quickness of youth, the patience of labor, the persistence of water eroding stone.

I didn't sketch, but I did have my notebook with me. It felt good to sit still and let the harbor move around me. My hand was on the wood of the bench. I could feel the warm sun on the wood. I thought about how often I arrive somewhere and try to take it all in at once, but today I only let the sea give me small pieces of information.

By the time it was over, I felt like I was a part of the harbor, not just watching it. The day wasn't very exciting, but it has left me with a sense of calm that gradually grows stronger. Sometimes the most ordinary scenes are the ones that stay with us, and they feel more true than big, exciting scenes.