We greet each other through the window. In the beginning the act was unconscious but soon we became aware that we were becoming locals.
We started to ride the motorcycle with things in hand; laundry, large bags, homemade take away dinners, and the garbage for the dumpster that is up the hill.
Instead of walking a block to our destination, without discussion, we jump on the motorcycle and enjoy the 10 second thrill ride.
We try to be Greek and find that we like it. It seems to come naturally.
Nothing is too serious and when it is we laugh harder. No conversation is beyond our creative jest.
Intentionally, and with justified voices, we strive to sound like the islanders. Without effort, our plans specifically include facts about what we will eat, drink, and where we will sit on the beach that day.
Our only hindrance is our innocence because in many moments we acknowledge our awesomeness and exclaim our gratitude for this charmed life. This is something our neighbors would not do.
We are envious of how they continue in an existence of the present moment, with no need to certify every minute’s sublimity. This practice we attempt to execute but our ecstasies and excitement overflow and to process this reality we have to accredit its greatness.
We repeat each others words to give them more meaning. Or simply to restate the agreed opinion.
Let’s make coffee
Yeah. Let’s do it.
At night we dance and in the day we rest.
In the mornings we chat through the windows.
Consciously playing our favorite game;
“Let’s Be Like the Greeks”