Corolla

I drove to a new beach and sat staring at the dark azure water, underneath wobbling parallelograms of sunlight would straighten out into wavy lines as waves came. There was the sound of sloshing, mini caves being washed by the fresh slightly fishy smelling sea. I looked at the rocks, had they enjoyed being thrust up from underneath the earth's surface? Do they now enjoy being stared at, with these eyes? These two things that had evolved into existence long after the rock appeared. They, like all other eyes, will disappear long before the rock will. Disinterested and wise, it knows everything I don't.

I get up and walk back to my burgundy Toyota Corolla and drive home to hang my washing out to dry. On the motorway a golden scene stretches out, sun beaming down above layers of silhouetted mountains, Larnaca bay with a line of sunlight shimmering across at me, the sound of the car engine humming. 

    It might be one of it's last trips with me, I grip the steering wheel tight, the thick black faux-leather that I smoothly slide between my hands. It has clocked over 250,500km, it is the only car I would say I've enjoyed. 'She takes a while to warm up' said the hire man with a sun-wrinkled Shar Pei face smilingly offering me an interesting mix of commercial and genuine warmth.

Cyprus too is taking her sweet time to warm up. I am having to buy scarves, and hoodies. I am waiting tenderly like a lover for her summer to reveal itself. She knows how to tease, only a few weeks ago I was naked on rocks. At night I am curled up into a fetus position to preserve my bodies warmth. Then today at noon I’m sitting outside topless, air thick with the promise of summer, gazing at the line of palm trees in front of me.
    They are the kind of gentle that I would be touching her skin with, if I were to be lying with her in a bed. If I were to be noticing how soft her lips are.
    Beyond them the flat sea, shades and ripples of aegean blue. A thin horizontal line rising up and flashing sunlight, then transforming, collapsing into a line of white. The sea’s rhythmic caress of the sand. I notice my computer screen is reflecting my bare torso, a palm tree frond shadow is dancing across it like a hand. She is light casting shadows in my mind of my hands touching her body.
    Suddenly, an aeroplane is vibrating the sky with a low grumble, a cat with a red collar darts past me, and the wind picks up setting the palm trees rustling. It was as if the scene were chiding my mind for veering off into fantasy. A fantasy it seems to be suggesting should not become reality. A fly lands on my screen on the word reality, I brush it away.
    How to brush away desire, when it is as much, if not more real, than reality?

Beach Trip

I'm here.
I'll be out in 2 minutes.

My blue backpack has my towel, the old man's black jumper and my green water bottle. I lock the glass door that leads to the beach, close my bedroom window and head out to the street.     
    I see a woman in sunglasses in her car, a pale Opel hatchback, is that her? She sees me, she is smiling at me, yes it's her. I throw my bag in the back seat and climb in, there is a slight scent of vanilla. 
    "How are you doing?"
    "good thanks".

It takes us around 25 minutes to get to the beach. The drive seems to pass like a flash compared to when I drive it myself. We've parked and I'm following her down steps to a small bay flanked by stretches of rock. Distant curves and triangles of the Karpass mountains can be seen cutting up into the blue sky. There is a bare chested man sprawled out on a beach chair in a bright red cap, we settle on the other side. I discover her name is pronounced with an 'eh' not 'ee', that it came originally from her grandmother, she discovers my mum is from Wales, I discover that in parts of the island people are paler due to French settlers, she discovers I find the rocks here interesting. 
    We are swimming, I have dived and am breaststroking underwater out of the bay, she has been transformed into a head bobbing in the distance. In the distance. I swim back, the distance is becoming less. "I'm going back in, I'm getting cold" I say as I pass. My Zorbas cheese pie is waiting for me.
    I notice I'm very used to my own company, she returns and notices the conversation the red capped man and a woman who has joined him is having, I note out loud I haven't noticed this. Her green eyes are bright, her top is the colour of a pastel forest, I take a sip from my fern green water bottle. The unbroken sunlight is starting to dip behind the rocks. It's time to head back.

In the car she tells her story of visiting Bali temples, I flatten the air with a story of appreciating the beauty of a brick wall, I tell her I'm inspired by a novel at the moment, she tells me some modern art can touch her and some doesn't.
    We say goodbye, her eyes shine, I feel mine are doing the same. "That was lovely, see you soon". The distance is becoming less, close enough to touch perhaps.

Paradise

I am on Ammos Kambouri Beach in Agia Napa, the craggy stretch of rocks dip into the land here, presenting a small width of golden sand. I'm sitting on a plastic white chair that was strewn and upturned on the empty beach when I arrived. There is a small boat on the horizon beyond the relatively calm sea. The sea which, like my body, is held in place by the earth's gravity, who is held in place by the sun's. The boat's engine is chugging distantly.    
    I am thinking of someone, my mind is painting a picture of her lips. 
    'ELLA FRITZ, OXI!' - a couple has arrived without me noticing and are calling their small black dog. It is sniffing by my legs at the empty packet that my spinach bougatsa was in. I notice suddenly how hot it is, and think I am probably burning. I stand up and head into the sea, it's cold body moves up my skin. It is cooling my blood which the sun had made hot, it is also cooling the steamy thoughts I had been painting. 

    Eros seems to enjoy firing his arrows into my heart, exploding into my thoughts. Have I not learnt how to shield myself yet? Perhaps I don't want to.     
    I am drying in the sun now, finishing off my sweet lukewarm takeaway coffee, the small boat has reached the edge of the far headland, I can no longer hear it's engine. I wonder what she is doing now? The black dog, Fritz, is sniffing tentatively at the water's edge.

Later when a group of loud Russians arrive I pack up and leave to walk to a more secluded area. When I reach the headland I take a look back at the beach and see Fritz braving the water.

    As I walk over the rocks I am thankful I wore my walking boots, there are very sharp and jagged edges that would be difficult in flip-flops. After a while I reach the shore again and find a sort of ledge facing out to sea - my altar upon which I will resume worshipping the holy sun with the skin of my face. I am ritualistically applying sun-cream, the floral sweet smell of Piz Buin fills the air, which has extract of chrysanthemum parthenium flower. 
    After sometime I notice I am almost entirely secluded, only a kayaker in the distance can make me out. It is an invitation to become naked. I am to worship with all my skin it seems. I slip my swimming trunks off and stand free as any bird, the gentle sea breeze running between my legs. It strikes me as strange for so much of my body to have been hiding away from this glorious sunshine, those intimate inches are happy to have their time in the light. 
    What could possibly improve on this paradisaical moment? Eros shoots a thought - yes, that would be rather divine.