Puzzles and bee-eaters

Oh boy. So many things I could tell you if you let me. If you ever let me- you look like a nice person but so troubled and lost. Do you love yourself? Or do you stare in disbelief as people around you fall to your feet?

I am not one of them - I am your equal - I am your sister and I can hold you in my arms for as long as I have to- but you seem so scared of the world and I get scared too and want to run away.

Your dark eyes trouble me- never before have I looked into dark eyes- I hope I don't get lost. I will not force you to speak to me or see me- I will be strong in the face of your endless moodswings and waverings- I am my own person, I make my own decisions based on my good judgement and not on the darkness of your eyes or the shape of your arms.

I can resist you, and be your friend, but only if you want to. I fear we have started off on the wrong foot, what with me letting you in. I felt your confusion, I felt your anger, and it hurt- I was even offended that you would want to prove something to me, but then I remembered you didn't know me and this is what it is like to let strangers in- I wanted you to hold me but I bore no illusions as to the nature of this pack.

Does anyone even see what is happening around us? Where else in the world could I be woken up from my sweet afternoon nap by the peculiar loud noise of tens of rainbow-coloured bee-eaters flying north over the purple mountains? I got out of bed and drew the curtains, letting the perfect spring breeze sweep the stray hairs off my puffy, pillow-wrinkled face. The warm colours of the near-setting sun, preparing to take his evening dive, the silhouette of the thin-beaked birds on the sky and the warmth of the afternoon gave me a fleeting feeling of the freedom of wilderness. Looking like a squinting cat that's being stroked under the chin, I breathed it all in, and lay back in bed thinking of nothing.

Boy, if people on this island ever really stopped for a moment and unglued themselves from their mirrors. I'm telling you they would stare at happiness right in the eyeballs.

The perfect recipe is:
- A couple of friends
- A bag full of apples, unwashed strawberries, canned crap and cans of instant coffee in an icebox
- A tent and
  a car.

My god you can travel to the edge of this piece of land, away from the claustrophobic town, and into the wonders of the last earth on Cyprus.

Ignore and resist the trash that gets washed ashore by the waves - don't let it spoil your moment with its man-made plastics and its unhappy plight. Focus on the turqoise water, the golden sand, the sand dunes, the butterflies, the colours- the blue Rollers, the myriads of green broken by purple thistles, the yellows, the coppers. Pretend you are a child of the moment for once without feeling guilty- when did we become so worried about the world and our place in it that we forgot to listen to our feet begging to be let out of our shoes and dug in the sand? When did we learn to draw lines around our bodies and declare ourselves free and floating in space?

Nah, put yourself back in the picture, you're nothing but another beautiful and curvy puzzle-piece. Let your hair down. Swim till your tongue gets pickled.

So many things I could tell you, if you only let me.


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