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.
