There's something about...where?

It has to be said that being in the middle of nowhere, with a lovely outlook and time to reflect, eat, drink, day-dream, and imagine, is good for the soul and creativity. I've written more verse and made more progress with LILT since I've been in Greece that ever before. It's crazy how submerged I become in metaphorical imagery when there aren't distractions (day job, real life, etc).

Right now everyone else is asleep. The whole village, that is. Not just the family. Silence reigns, and my mind is burning with images. I'm going to grab a beer and go and sit on the front steps (Macbook makes me happy and portable), so I can write and mess about with ideas, and look at the Agean, the olive trees, and the lovely (terribly stereotypical) village houses.

Shutters are closed or barely ajar. The air isn't moving. Insects are going about their daily business of eating, working, fucking, and dying. Sheep are dozing. The sea is hardly moving, and the clouds are building fortifications above the limestone marble cliffs that protect us here. Colours are blued by the heat haze, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be right now...except maybe down at the sea... or in the sea.

Yesterday I heard a bell, and thinking a sheep was loose I looked out the kitchen window. It was a mule, dragging his lead rope, and looking appropriately sheepish. All beasts of burden and production here wear bells. It's weird. In New Zealand only cats where the damned things, and those only to curb their natural abilities as hunters.

Maybe I should write something about the anthills that we call cities, predators in bondage, and mules...

[discuss]

[Update: Hmm, turned out to be something quite different]