It's odd how clouds and the sky seem different here, I feel as if they are more prominent, more framed. I took the picture below and tried to upload onto instagram, but I can't from my laptop. So I thought I'd make this little blog post, and perhaps have it as my Cyprus adventure update blog.
The day I travelled here -
A lady with steely blue eyes the colour of a Nordic sea checks me in at Heathrow. Later on I wake up from a snooze and gaze out the plane window. A mesmeric orange ball is dipping silently into a horizon of cloud, the sky is aglow with layers of colour that don't have words. Moments later it's gone, and even more quietly, the secluded scythe of the moon introduces itself to the scene.
I saw it again this evening, above a large white villa overlooking an empty terracotta beach, the Mediterranean sea stretching out towards Lebanon and Israel. I sat on a jagged rock and dipped my hand in, warm and clean, the rocks beneath clear, splashed it on my face. If there was any location on this earth I would call home, it would be the Mediterranean sea. I have never felt more at home, completely at ease, than when my body is submersed, a moment of suspension, holding my breath.
As I write this, I can can hear cicadas, the metallic gurgling of my little apartment fridge, occasional cars, in front of me is a mirror, and in it a human with green eyes and a mole above his right temple, gazes back, that self I've been bought up to believe is 'me'. So here is me, myself and I, away from my country of birth writing this blog about my adventures in Cyprus - a place where the sky expands and the clouds announce themselves on the horizon as if they were a work of art, somehow knowing, teasingly, that their artistry makes the finest human painter a moron.
