Monday, November 7, 2011

An island worth a hundred poems...



I am still hanging in there, with autumn and quiet, contemplative days. Which does not mean quiet and boring. No, when I stop, anywhere, I reflect over the same things I seldom think of in the summer. Like hearing but not listening. My imprints come from seeing the island in it's naked context. I take walks in a quiet way. Like not wanting to disturb a resting shore, a broken dock, passing below a closed estiatorio Gatos, that looks like a fortress, sitting with a coffee in the harbor by a few remaining tables still waiting for guests, the Tropicana Platía without any sounds of guests full of joy and a beach where no sand warms the wandering feet....









1 comment:

  1. Hej Torsten! Jag gillar din blogg! Det känns lite som att komma tillbaka när man längtar som mest.. Roligt att se hur det ser ut nu när alla sommargäster har åkt.. Ha det bra! /Johanna X-reseledare

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