August 30. Standing on a hilltop stretching out your arms like a cross.

Acclimatized. It turns out I’ll work here. And the dark blue water is inspiring. I eat in the restaurant alone, with happiness between my ears. The food is tasty and even the cheap wine. I have a Souflaki today, and goodness does it taste good. Cortisol and epinephrine levels are going through the roof. I have written quite a bit, but I can’t say I’m satisfied yet. I walk up to the hill today, running part of the way to feel my muscles. And beautiful she is, the sunset. I stretch out my arms and sigh. Down there is the Greek sea, I don’t care about her exact name, little islands scattered in her, and the deep orange sphere tumbling behind the horizon to the rings of goat bells. The herd is grazing here peacefully, I don’t see shepherd nor dog. I like their smell. Still with my hands stretched looking like a cross I try to catch the moment, grasp it and inscribe it on some kind of gravure plate in my brain with a sharp needle like they used to make those Byzanthine emblems. It doesn’t work. The moment stays there on the hilltop as I have to go down to avoid manoeuvring through the sharp thorned bushes at dark. The sun gives her final wink and disappears. Pssst. You still can be a pretty good divine comedian.

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