Monday, February 2, 2026

Sunny Winter Sunday in Mostar [Through My Lens Nr. 518]

There is something special about winter Sundays in Mostar, especially the kind that arrive clear and bright after days of grey skies. The air this morning was cold enough to make me pull my jacket tighter around my neck, but the sun was shining with that confident, golden light that makes you forget the temperature entirely. It was the kind of day that quietly invites you outside, promising nothing in particular except fresh air and the comfort of familiar streets, so I decided to go for a long walk through the city centre and simply see where my feet would take me. 

 

I started near the river, as I often do, because the sight of the Neretva never fails to reset my mood. Even in the middle of winter, the water keeps that unreal turquoise colour, bright and almost tropical against the muted tones of stone buildings and bare trees. The mountains behind the city looked especially crisp in the cold air, every ridge and shadow perfectly defined, as if the entire landscape had been sharpened overnight. The river moved quickly and steadily beneath the bridges, carrying that soft, constant rushing sound that seems to wash away the noise in your head. 

As I continued into the centre, it became clear that I wasn’t the only one who had the same idea. Every café terrace was full, even though the air was still cold enough to sting your cheeks. People were wrapped in coats and scarves, leaning into the sunlight as if it were something precious and rare, warming their hands around small cups of coffee and stretching conversations far longer than usual. There was a gentle liveliness everywhere, families talking over lunch, friends laughing loudly, couples sitting close together, and yet nothing felt rushed. 
 

Walking further through the streets, I was reminded again how layered this city feels. Within just a few steps you can see so many different pieces of history and daily life overlapping: a mosque dome catching the light between apartment blocks, red-tiled roofs climbing the hillside, small shops opening their doors, and people crossing the street with groceries or stopping to greet someone they know. Nothing about it is staged or spectacular, and maybe that’s exactly why it’s beautiful. 



The winter sun gave everything a warmer tone than usual, especially the old facades that glowed in shades of yellow and gold. One building in particular caught my eye, its windows reflecting distorted pieces of the street and sky, while the ornamental details seemed almost brighter in the afternoon light. Even the small shrubs and plants nearby looked lively despite the season, their silvery-green leaves sparkling slightly in the sun. I found myself slowing down, stopping more often than I normally would, paying attention to textures and colours that I usually walk past without thinking. 



By the time the afternoon began to fade, the light softened and the streets slowly grew quieter. The cafés started to empty, people drifted home, and long shadows stretched across the sidewalks. The city felt peaceful in that end-of-day way, like it was gently exhaling after hours spent outside. As I walked back, hands tucked into my pockets and cheeks still cold from the air, I realised how little I actually needed from the day. Somehow, the walk was more than enough, and it reminded me that sometimes the best days are the quiet ones where you simply wander through the place you call home and let it surprise you again.



Thank you all for joining me in another week of "Through My Lens". I am looking forward to your submissions this week. I hope you will have a great start into the new week!  

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