G oing to the beach in winter has a sense of invasion. As if you are not supposed to be there or even worse as if you are unwanted there. But like all things forbidden, it is uniquely seductive. The sounds of the waves are like the sirens that are trying to take you away. I start counting them. One, two, three. Like the steps of a dance. One – two – three, one – two – three, one – two – three. Someone taught me that in the heavy sea, the third wave is the biggest. I have never forgot that. It impressed me that much, that I feel I have never fully accepted it. Every time I am in front of the sea, I count the waves. One – two – three.
We sit on the wet sand from the morning rain. Behind us huge rocks and caves. The perfect clash for the sounds of the sea. The weather is just starting to clear giving us the wonderful colors of the sunset. We open a bottle of wine and lay back. One – two – three.
Illigkas, Crete, 2016.