Over the course of another cycle of seasons the sea claims the 'sand' and the substrate is once again revealed as the hints of the homes it once decorated: sea worn glistening white marble, artforms sculpted in bricks and terracota roof tiles, remnants of colourful patterned floors.
F fills her pockets like a magpie picking at tinfoil. Colours and shapes cover the surfaces of our potted plants. Miniature landscapes, filled out with small smoothed driftwood shapes that might even have floated here from other continents.
What feet walked these tiles? Piraeus villas, homes of the wealthy, shipowners, aging houses occupied by refugees from Asia after 1922... slippered feet, soft shoes embroidered with silks, sweeping hems of cool flowing gowns, padding footfall of servants, boots stamping off winter mud as their owners await payment for delivered foodstuff, and cats of course.... silent, tiptoe, contemplative, eyes watching from beneath long tablecloths.
Cool tiles beneath high ceilings, deep shuttered windows, doors that open with both hands; furred tails swept across these tiles, swish swish swish, eyes narrowed, an ankle is revealed and....
.......the strike, the bite, the run, a mad dash, a fat tail, a funny five minutes........feline grin in a silent corner.
Hari OM
ReplyDeleteMy word, such evocations brought forth from fragments and sherds! Delicious - thanks for joining the FFF party! Hugs and whiskeries, YAM-aunty xxx
How romantic!
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Deletetis beautiful and I can see excactly what you wrote in my minds eye. I can also see the Strike and Grin! and hear the pading feet. wild clapping, one of the best FFF's I have read.
ReplyDeleteMy great Uncles remains are washing around the coast of Piraeus. Killed by Germans in WW2
ReplyDeleteWe will pause a moment to reflect on that (and respect his sacrifice) next time we go to the sea
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