last night I thought I heard rain
in the middle of summer
clear skies
then I realized
it was the wind. Read More

I am sitting on the veranda of our summer house looking at the blue sea over the trees and the bushes.  Farther into the view are the mountains of Chios island.

This corner of the world, this little corner here is somehow mostly protected from the sounds of civilisation.  Even though there are houses right next to us, and even though there are hotels and some other houses a bit in the distance, they don’t intervene – rather they cannot seem to make their voices heard among the wind, the waves and the cicadas.  The wind has always been the signature sound of this region and combined with the sea and the hypnotising song of cicadas, it creates a vacuum or a tunnel that pulls one into a different dimension. Read More

i let the wind in the trees
the soft brushing sound
find the me in me

that me that is gentler
that me who knows –
to move with the wind
is easier, Read More