censored skiathos journal (part 7)

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The wind’s up outside and it’s clouded over a little. Which, after this morning’s heat, is a relief. The clouds were very beautiful on the beach just now. Low, a duck’s egg blue, hanging just above the sea like a god-child’s scrawl. I saw a turning woman in there who might have been a jaguar. Was thankful not to be able to decipher any more of the script. Or be looking at it on drugs.

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Walked down to the beach after eating. First time I’ve been to the beach by evening. I don’t know why that should be. Normally I like beaches by night. I liked it tonight. At one point a small creature whistled along the shoreline. I thought it might be a rat (too dark to see anything but a blur of movement), but then it didn’t behave in a v ratlike fashion, it sort of stuck around, and a wave broke over it and it didn’t seem bothered, it just scuttled around. Then I thought it might have been a crab, but don’t know, seemed to move too fast for a crab. A mystery, all in all.

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Oh and writer –
What?
The greatest power in the world (little pause) – is love.
Thanks Paris.
Door shuts

Last words of Paris to me, just now, water engineer. A man I could get on with, not least because he had ‘Fuck off Paris’ finger-scrawled in the dust of his rear windscreen, noticed as he drove off.

He picked me up 15 minutes ago, turning what would have been an hour and so on’s walk into a ten minute drive. During which he told me about Thessaloniki, the North-South divide in Greece, the beauty of Crete (pronounced Cre-te, so much better), with it’s wildflowers and snow capped mountains, the negative impact of Mammon on the citizens of the South; and why I need to learn Greek, the fount of all language. Paradox, I said. Para-noia, he retorted, and I like him a lot for it.

Fuck me it picked me up, talking to someone normal. The handle for his windscreen fell of and he said he thought there was something wrong with it. Not at all I replied. He didn’t speak much English but he made an effort.

For today, has been… More thinking. When I get back they’ll say how was it and I’ll say you ever not had a conversation with anyone beside yourself for a fortnight? Not quite accurate but you get the jist.