Journal from Greece (γρεεξε)

Sitting at breakfast, Americans discuss whether the honey is French or Greek, as if to determine this will unlock the secrets of this magical place.
Anything to more deeply inhale and clarify beauty.
The rocks pound the chaos into your soul and the water swallows it back into the sea and you're left with the breathing of your heart.
To be presented with such devastating beauty boggles the mind. What to do with it... ?
To write about it, gaze upon it, photograph it, speak of it, think about it, get lost in its infinite magic, allow your mind to waver away in the metal of the waves.
The ocean puts a spell on you. The ripples of the waves are like tiny veins dancing, exposing the heart of the planet through a golden tapestry of the softest blues. Massive rocks planted sorrowfully in the sea, heaving as ships dot their dreams, making voyages for more beauty.
Such a nice place to do nothing...

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