There was once a tiny little stone town in Croatia. For many years its medieval townhouses and palaces lay half-abandoned, the ghosts roaming around the narrow cobbled streets telling tales of Venetian times. There was chatter of a few aging souls catching up on its plazas…and otherwise nothing much happened.

Then artists started trickling in, drawn by the quiet of the night, by the strange energy of the earth that emanates from these primeval stones. Next, random passersby started discovering the place, pulled in by the magic. Now visitors are trickling in a steady stream but the place remains delightful.

I stumbled upon this tiny little stone town a few weeks ago and I’ve become a convert. There’s something so soothing about its stone, something that puts you in touch with your inner self. The tales of stone it tells seem so appealing to me, to the poet inside, to the romantic, to the idealist. It’s like a separate universe within this hard reality. Or maybe I’m hallucinating it all…

I won’t name the place here. But if you’re reading this and intrigue sets in, the clue is: take a look at the photo, zoom in … and find out just a tiny bit more.