The Beach
Arriving at the village; must have been two hands of light left. I stall at the seafront where taverns thrive during high season, yet I’m here, in Crete, mid-October enjoying the mellow late-summer weather.
A sole tavern is lively, the owner, a bold lady and her family from the mainland, are finishing their dinner. “Come join us, έλα!” thrice they ask me and I gladly grab a chair and join them. Freshly grilled fish, salad, fried potatoes and bread.
What and why they are curious to learn. With exercise comes hunger, with exhaustion comes good sleep, with repetition comes clarity, with solitude comes togetherness.
I decide to stay close, I don’t feel like rushing more. I cycle to a nearby secluded beach during golden hour, tired from a long day, well fed and with an ice-cream in my feedbag bumping on every pothole. I set-up camp against the pink-blue sky and the waves recovering from a high tempo; rhythmical, breath-like.
Skinny dip, camera shutter firing, memories captured.
“Oh, oh the milky way” reflecting on the still sea.
“Is this what I think it is” I ask myself seeing electric-blue hues on the water.
