{"@context":{"rdf":"http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#","rdfs":"http://www.w3.org/2000/01/rdf-schema#","owl":"http://www.w3.org/2002/07/owl#","foaf":"http://xmlns.com/foaf/0.1/","dc":"http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/","dct":"http://purl.org/dc/terms/","sioc":"http://rdfs.org/sioc/types#","blog":"http://vocab.amy.so/blog#","as":"https://www.w3.org/ns/activitystreams#","mf2":"http://microformats.org/profile/","ldp":"http://www.w3.org/ns/ldp#","solid":"http://www.w3.org/ns/solid#","view":"https://terms.rhiaro.co.uk/view#","asext":"https://terms.rhiaro.co.uk/as#","dbp":"http://dbpedia.org/property/","geo":"http://www.w3.org/2003/01/geo/wgs84_pos#","doap":"http://usefulinc.com/ns/doap#","time":"http://www.w3.org/2006/time#"},"@id":"https://rhiaro.co.uk/2018/07/walking","@type":"as:Note","as:content":"
I'm walking along the edge of the land in a residential part of Zadar. The sky is stained pink and orange by the sunset, clouds paint wild shapes, dramatic and peaceful at the same time. It's so beautiful I can hardly breathe. The street I'm following is called 'Karma'. The ocean laps at the rocks, providing the only sound for miles, and I scramble down some stairs to dip my legs. The water is almost warm.
Suddenly the air is alive, a roar that becomes discernable as cheers, whistles, applause. Some fire crackers, some car horns. Croatia scored in the World Cup, I suppose, and I am reminded that I'm not the only person in the world.
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