The market begins before the village is properly awake. By eight 0'clock, the first tables had appeared beneath the plane trees. There are baskets of apricots and peaches, small bunches of lavender, tomatoes still carrying the morning warmth and loaves of bread wrapped loosely in paper.

Nobody appears to be in quite as much hurry as we are accustomed to. A woman stops to examine a basket of cherries. Two friends stand beside a cheese stall talking long after their purchases have been made

There is something particularly interesting about the way the market turns buying into part of the morning rather than an interruption to it.

As the day begins to soften, the terrace becomes a favourite room. The heat settles, the air cools and the light turns a softer gold. Conversation flows more easily here; unhurried and uninterrupted.

A simple meal feels abundant; a good loaf of bread, a bowl of olive, crisp wine and the scent of jasmine carried on the evening air. The view does the rest.

This is not a place for elaborate plans. It is a place for presence, for noticing the beauty in ordinary things and allowing the evening to unfold as its own place.

The well set room has a way of steadying the mind. Light falls through tall windows, the outside world softens and time takes on a different rhythm. The bed is made with care, flowers bring a small sense of home and the objects; a book, a cup, a lamp invite a slower pace. Though we have only just arrived, the room already feels familiar, as if it has been waiting.

There is a quiet beauty in how a temporary space can hold as much; rest, reflection and possibility. A hotel room is not simply a place to sleep but a pause between places; a small., self contained world that allows us to be present.

In Seville, we noticed how often the centre of the home was given light, plants and air. Courtyards are shaped by the rhythm of the sun; morning brightness, afternoon shade and the cool of the evening. They are places to gather, to rest, to eat and to simply be.

The courtyard was not treated as leftover space. It was a room without a roof. Surrounded by fragrant plants, the sound of water and textured walls that offered privacy and openness at the same time. A space that drew people out of the house and into the slower pace of the day.

A garden does not have to be large to become a room. A chair beneath a tree, a table beside the kitchen door, a pot of herbs within reach. Small invitations to spend time outside can change the relationship between house and garden.