Fifth Journey Day 177: Echo of the Pigeon’s Wing

Abstract brushwork echoing circling pigeon wings and drifting light, inspired by María Luisa Park in Seville, Spain

"Echo of the Pigeon’s Wing" — a quiet study of flight and shade, shaped by an afternoon beneath Seville’s orange trees.

Date: November 1, 2025
Location: Seville, Spain

In Seville, Spain, autumn light sifts through orange trees and tiled pavilions, softening the paths of María Luisa Park. Today was about listening—fountains murmuring, wingbeats folding into shade—and letting the city’s Andalusian rhythm slow the hand before any line reached the page.

Choosing Stillness Over Sketching

I spent most of the day in María Luisa Park, sitting under the shade of an orange tree with a sketchbook on my lap. The paper was mostly empty. I didn't feel like turning words into lines today. It was enough to watch the light move through the leaves and across the water. The park felt like a quiet room, but it was really a landscape — every sound was soft because they were far away. The sound of children's laughter was barely audible, mixed in with the soothing flow of the fountains.

Petals, Benches, and Wingbeats

The ground was covered in fallen petals. Some of the petals were crushed into fine powder, while others were still holding their scent. I remember hearing the sound of pigeons' wings — it was like a quiet drumbeat that came out of nowhere and then went away. Even the benches had their own language: carved initials, the curve of chipped tiles, a record of touch.

Following the Shade

At around four o'clock, the sun made the pathways golden, and the shadows of the palms stretched as far as they could reach. I walked a little bit, but not towards anything in particular. I just followed the way in which the shade fell. A small group of musicians played in the plaza. They played guitar, tambourine, and sang. It felt more like the park was alive than like a performance.

A Day That Passed Softly

I didn't talk to anyone. It was one of those days that pass softly but completely — nothing demanded attention, yet everything seemed quietly alive. Tonight, I can still feel the calm. The day went by slowly.

Travel Notes

  • Weather: Clear and warm; about 24°C in the afternoon, cooling to 15°C by evening. Dry air carried hints of orange peel and stone dust.
  • Scents: Crushed petals, citrus from the nearby trees, and the mineral coolness that lingers around tiled fountains.
  • Sounds: Distant children’s laughter, steady fountain murmur, the soft drumbeat of pigeons' wings, and a plaza trio—guitar, tambourine, voices.
  • Reflection: Stillness can be a kind of drawing; today the park made its own lines in light and shadow, and I followed them.

Continue the Journey

You may also enjoy wandering through another Spanish moment in First Journey Day 3: Cobblestone Chronicles (Granada), or linger with the hush of First Journey Day 2: Palette of Pauses (Valencia).

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