Fifth Journey Day 73: When Apricot Juice Touched the Stone

Date: July 20, 2025
Location: Sheki, Azerbaijan

I spent most of the afternoon in the garden of the Sheki Khans' Palace. The air was warm but not too hot, and the light that came through the shebeke windows moved slowly over the gravel and stone. I sat on a low bench under a tree. I watched the colorful pieces of a patterned wall move across the walls. It didn't feel like being in a monument — more like sitting inside someone's held breath.

I didn't draw much. Here are a few lines to help you remember how the latticework moved and how the glass wasn't symmetrical but still felt precise. Mostly, I just sat. A cat appeared for a moment and then quickly hid under a bush. Tourists walked in groups. I could barely hear the guide as he spoke about geometry, tradition, and woodworking without nails. I wasn't trying to learn. I just wanted to stay still until I found something quiet enough.

Later, I walked back slowly through a street of sloping stones. I saw the pieces of an apricot that had fallen from a tree and split on the pavement. I walked around them carefully. Their scent was sticky and sweet, attracting bees. No one hurried. The heat seemed to make everything go slower, or maybe it just made everything happen at the right pace.

When I got back to the room, I rinsed my feet and sat near the window. A single strip of light moved across the bed as the sun went down behind the trees. I thought about how often beauty here arrives without needing to declare itself. You can find it in the uneven folds of fabric hung on a fence or in the rhythm of water being poured into a tin basin.

I haven't decided what I'm going to paint yet. I think it has to do with pauses that last longer than silence. It's a quiet that isn't empty.