Swim

My body was put in peril by the sea today. Although strictly speaking, wasn't it the wind that had whipped it up into waves? Or was it simply my stupidity?  

The moon appears like a faded painting on the horizon as I drive back. An hour later and the hand of the sky painter has dabbed it with a creamier, more luminous white. It sternly hovers above the sea I've just entered.
    I venture further out into shifting mountains of water, whose fringes froth moon coloured. After two minutes of swimming I look back, wait...I notice I've drifted much further out than I thought. I start swimming for shore, a little twinge of nervousness.
    After a while I look up again, oh dear, it seems I'm not getting closer to shore, the current is surprisingly strong. The note of nervousness has now crescendoed to a near panic, a gong struck somewhere just above my belly, it reverberates into my body and I swim harder.
    I look again moments later, having swum at full power - am I closer? No... Fuck, Shit! I swim harder, the gong is now a symphony of panic, it throws me off, I accidentally gulp a mountain made of water, I'm running out of breath.
    Instantaneously a clear chorus of survival instinct enters, cutting through the panic, it sings to my body - keep swimming.

    After what could be 5 minutes but seems timeless, my feet find rocks. I scramble ashore, my lungs heaving, my mouth tasting blood. 

In the parked burgundy Toyota Corolla, the heaters on full, gulping water, I administer myself humbling thoughts - don't underestimate the power of the sea.  

Lemon

I threw a lemon at an impertinent bitch the other day. I picked the beaming yellow thing off a roadside tree, fresh lemony aroma bringing joy to my nose. Moments later I'm shocked by Natasha nudging my heels. 'Go Back', I uttered angrily several times, a stern hand thrust towards the house. She rolls onto her back, exposes belly and dog nipples, and spreads a smarmy smirk across her little dog face. Further enraged and ineffective hand thrusting and utterances are ignored totally. I must use the lemon, throwing it emphatically, half at her, and half in the direction of home, 'Go Back' I shout simultaneously - it seems to work.

Later that day I walked to the beach. Two ladies were walking a raggedy white dog, one of them was wearing a large rimmed purple hat, the other wore all black and had a strange gait. The sea was noisily continuing her exciting and impossible task of obliterating the island of Cyprus. I wondered how many people, if any, had walked the entire length of the coastline? I excitedly contemplate the possibility of doing so myself, anyone wish to join me?

'Cyprus is like a box of chocolates' as Forest Gump would say if he lived here. Indeed many a sumptuous chocolate I've already tasted. A few days ago I put a new one in my mouth, Tinder, though I'm not sure yet of it's taste. So far I've matched with 10 attractive men and 0 women, is the universe trying to tell me something? So much to discover on this most lovely of islands, not least explorations in sexuality. 

 

Troodos Mountains

I drove back from Nicosia on Sunday evening and sat on a rock. In an endless blue-black sky, sovereign clouds were being illumined by a full moon. ἡ μεγάλη θάλασσα is reflecting the milky light, Νηρηΐδες massage my lonesomeness, small waves are lapping the shore. Four full moons prior I gazed up into the same sky, bemoaning that in two hours I'd be on a plane bound for England.

The day after I arrived back, I caught a cold swimming in a gruff, seaweed smelling sea. The English channel does have a rough charm - the sad little pebbles, the whiffs of vinegary fish and chips, the grey overcast sky. Yet despite such charm, my heart seemed to be elsewhere (how to make the heart not be elsewhere?). So four synodic months later I am here, sniffing a little from pet allergy, listening to birds chirping and a distant dog barking.

Over the weekend I breathed in fresh Troodos forest air. In the time it's taken you to read this around 200 human bodies on planet earth will have passed through a vagina and taken their first breath.  Since I took my first breath and the many following, these forest breaths were particularly pleasing. I do hope all those little lungs being born get to live in unpolluted air, and realise without trees our lungs are as much use as the rock I sat on. 

In the evening I find myself sitting in a bar, an outside heater above and a mulled wine in my hand. One of the waitresses had a jazzy πολύχρωμα 80's shirt tucked into some shiny black leather trousers and a bobish haircut. I wondered what she looked like without a mask. 

I've tasted many sweet fruits of this island already, sunsets, fish mezes, halloumi pies, Cypriot coffee, forests, sea, smiling brown eyes. There is however the bitterness of the divided state of the country to explore. It is comforting to note, that, as far as I'm aware, nothing that exists is immune to change. I therefore believe it is useful to hold a deep vision that the change that is constantly occurring lead, not only on Cyprus, but every divided state, into harmonious union. Not only is everything in the world always and always will be changing, but everything of who we are is. I therefore hold a deep vision that the divided states of our minds and hearts reach towards harmonious union.

Perhaps the trees laugh sorrowfully at my visions, with touches of aggravation. They finish up their laughing and gaze down saying - "does the rain strive to fall from clouds? Do we have to envision being in harmony with the rain, the earth and the sky? Primitive human, there is no reaching for harmony".