Twenty-six kilometers north of Limassol, there’s a place called ‘governor’s beach’,
I love going there, especially when I feel my heart closing…,
Especially when the beauty within me becomes sparse and it needs replenishing,
For one thing I know,
As within, so without,
So I take care to be a conscientious gardener of the beauty within…,
For beauty is g-d, and g-d is beauty…


I like to sit there, on top of the hill and look down on the vast Mediterranean,
I’m writing this from there now,
There’s a gentle breeze entertaining my face, and there are thirteen souls on the beach below,
A playboy yacht is lazily lounging nearby,
Three little kids are cavorting at the water’s edge,
Elisavet and Angelos are two of their names,
The third, a little girl not older than 4, is obviously the ‘gang-leader’, I did not hear her name as she is the chatterbox who is incessantly barking out the important orders of the business at hand [in Greek, of course], of building, demolishing and rebuilding their sandcastle…,
Their mother, a svelte young woman, is talking on the mobile, for half an hour now, “…what’s the point of coming to this corner of paradise and yet have your ear glued to the cancerous device…”, I rhetorically ask myself…


I take a deep breath, I begin to disengage from the human elements,
I gaze at the sea,
I count ten different kinds of turquoise today,
Now, I try to connect to the infinite,
I greatly feel the need,
On the tree, above me, a crow sounds his very strange call, as if in agreement with me, and to spur me on…,
For a closed heart does not a body any good…,
I pack pen and paper reluctantly away,
And start opening my heart,
“…how are you today dear g-d…”, is my opening salvo to the infinite…