Patmos / opening to light and to darkness
Matina’s, who had already left for the other Patmos
I stared at the pitch, the wood that used to be brought in from the continent opposite to build the foundations of the island houses, and I saw what remained of their ancient light. They were fragrant with their dark memory. Small windows at the height of people’s heads. And in the aura of the few fruitful ones, again the light. Outdoors and the bees buzzing making honey and wax to light it up again. Not a soul in sight. Nothing but their light pouring, making the place overflow, encircled by the sea, to gather up coolness all night long, and whatever was left of the tormented wood of the boats that hadn’t sunk, on the ground, burdened with so much touching and – yet again – light. Oh, if only I could show you all this! Angelic and black and inside the black… trees and birds are sleeping.
