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"gee, but it's great to be back home,
 home is where I want to be"
                           {Paul Simon}


What can I tell you? I wish I could show you everything...

peachy light on mountains at dawn 
the bigdog/ littledog woofing festival 
pomegranate trees
doorbells that sang with bursts of bird song
plates of seedy chewy fig jam 
fresh cool mountain water meeting the fizzing tinsel sea
a table sized pitta bread pregnant with steam
a warm rainstorm squeezed us under a parasol and made a cage of droplets to trap us
garlands of drying chillies reddening and oranging on every balcony
the cliff that roared above our beach hideaway
the sharp smell of the pine forest behind the sand
the fisherman who spoke no English but made friends with smiles and gestures
cool sweet tins of cherry juice 
enchanting shoeshine and damp beach towels
family life on a balcony, sofas and tvs in the evening light
a haunting swirling call to prayer
cicadas singing their evening love song
hot sharp apple tea
sizzling courgette fritters
hypnotised by a fan into a deep hot sleep
ripe moody tomatoes and crumbly village cheese
unmade roads leading to perfect tiny beaches
the town like a shaken tablecloth spread below us