I cannot always see Trieste in my mind’s eye. Who can?

                                                                                ~Jan Morris, Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere

The Adriatic is blue and silent, not a breath of wind stirring. Across the bay, a small white castle stands, and the hills around are harsh. The sun blazes, but not radiantly. A desultory tug cross the harbour; a train clanks somewhere; a small steamer belches smokes; a band plays in the distance and somebody whistles a snatch of Puccini–or is that me?”

                                   ~Jan Morris, Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere

Before the sun …

And after …