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Blue.

The sea here, no greys just sheer iridescence amongst a sea of parasols and beautiful bodies.

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Cicadas.

Such a chorus like I’ve never heard before!

Ice cream.

The flavours, the size of them, it’s simply rude not to eat them!

Hill fires, a big plane and masses of freckles. 

Sicily is hot at the moment and very humid.  I’m currently dripping over my sketchbook under a tree in thirty five degree heat.

Hair is looking like it too.

There’s been no signal here for the last few days as a quite severe hill fire started on the parched hill above our campsite.

We’ve been woken up to a very impressive fire plane gathering water from the bay and swooping dangerously low amongst the jagged ridges of the hill to offload its water. Most spectacular indeed especially of a night when the fire appears like bright orange tendrils against the dark silouette of the hill.

I feel quote conspicuous as the palest female in the site but I seem to have developed a small army of freckles to break up the ofending white bits.

Piccola Lucertola.

Swim hats.

Everyone has to wear little coloured swim hats in the pool.

Do you speak cat?

We’ve arrived in Sicily, (minus my clothes as the airline has lost our siitcase but that was yesterday and another drawing).

It is breath taking here and so is the driving…

Lots of cats here too.

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