One hundred and seventy steps to the top of Split’s Bell Tower.
Half of which are stone, turning to rickety metal,
shaking with the slightest of ocean breezes.
Acrophobia seizes me temporarily, my grip on the small handrail tightens.
Slow breathes, in deep, exhale slowly.
One foot in front of the other as I rise above the city buildings
to clear blue ocean views and clouds topping distant mountains ranges.
I climb this stairway to heaven to the serenity above.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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