Life happens

You know how people see themselves flying in their dreams? I’ve never seen that. What I do in my dreams is run.

I either run fast, vaulting over obstacles like I weight nothing and I’ve been a traceuse for centuries, covering distances longer than all the levels of Crash Bandicoot combined, or I’m trying to run but no matter how hard I move my feet, it’s like I’m stuck in molasses and I can barely cover a meter.

This past month has been a mixture of both those feelings simultaneously, no dreaming added.


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of warmth and salt

I love the sea.

I wish I could own a house at the beach – at least at view distance- so that I can feel my heart in the right place.

The only thing good about summer is going to the sea. When I was young I would spend at least a full month at a house by the beach, I would go for a swim every morning for hours, I would swim behind a small wooden boat while me grandfather would oar unhurriedly and sing a ridiculous song about a strong man that was afraid of nothing but for his wife. I would stay in the water hours after my skin wrinkled. I would lie under the stars, the sounds of the waves and the smell of the salt lulling me to sleep every night.

Spring is already here even if it doesn’t look like it in Athens. The other day we went at the beach. It wasn’t a cold day, but it wasn’t sunny either. Kites were in the air, children laughed and ran about, and the sun above the soft waves created playful shadows behind the clouds.

I think I’m going back to the sea this weekend.

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