The city also has a sea.

Slender, dark feet – Hellenic – complete the long legs of the body of houses stretched along the riverbank.

At high tide, hopeful, it rises and goes to test the water. But it always shivers and flees from the waves, running and laughing a lot. Then it stretches out again in the sun, dozing, dreaming of a warm tide for the following morning.

Meanwhile, the seagulls’ feathers dance with the wind, swirling over the city’s bare skin.

Pushed to the riverbed, they are dragged by the current, submerging and resurfacing, plunging into the glittering sea before them.

Dazzled by endless glimmers, they disappear and reappear in the half-awake gaze of the city.

Each feather is a fragile boat, carrying the dream of one of its inhabitants, all yet to be realized.

Expectantly, they follow their winding, shimmering path towards the unpredictable vastness of the sea.