"Komiža is like an embrace," said the writer Ranko Marinković.

As if the town slid from the mountain into the bay and pleasantly situated itself across from the silent island of Biševo, Komiža's urban structure indeed looks like a hug. But it's not only it's structure that embraces you here.

Hugs come from green-blue shutters, and the silence that keeps the boats afloat. You can smell them in the scent of immortelles and ripe figs, carobs that lower their branches to invite you to try their fruits. The dusk embraces you while you bathe among the shiny planktons that reflect the shooting stars. Hugs are played through the symphony of the orchestra of crickets that sing from pine trees in the rhythm of the waves.

Until you step on every beach, until you place the palm of your hand on each house, you will not know how many hugs Komiža hides. And even then, behind each corner a new embrace will be shining like a pearl.

Because in Komiža hugs are continuosly being born and spilt into each new moment, into each of the five senses of the observer.