A small terracotta pot sat on the tiled ledge, holding a green basil plant I’d picked up at the street market on Tuesday for four euros.

I took a ceramic water pitcher off the windowsill and tipped it slowly over the soil until the dark dirt turned shiny and wet.

The ocean breeze was warmer today than it had been.

Far out on the blue water of the bay, a big white ferry was crossing toward the southern shore, trailing a long line of white foam behind its stern.

Gulls circled wide over the red clay roof tiles across the street, their cries sharp and clear in the late afternoon stillness.