I’ve always imagined Crete as a completely white island. Like a white spot forgotten in the middle of the blue, turquoise or green waters of…the Mediterranean Sea. Maybe because Crete, “Creta” in my language means chalk. A white island made of chalk lost somewhere between Aegean and Lybian Sea.
Today, watching the pictures, I understand I can’t be very wrong in my fantastic image about Crete. It is somehow white, with turquoise waters, with red and brown sand. And the olive trees… the white simple tiny houses (like our) resemble with the island in my mind….
I’ve always dreamed to live on an island…Circled by waters…In the middle of nowhere. And there is this strange feeling. Mediterranean Sea and Greece rise this huge fascination on me. I have no idea why, but the first time I felt the sweet air, and seen the dry herbs and grass, the old, old olive trees, my heart decided: “That’s a country, a place on earth, I could easily live on”. Yes, I could live there. And there is just another place on earth I feel drown to like this. French Polynesia. A nail of sand growing in the immense waters of the Pacific.
Lost…lost…lost on an island I don’t know, in the middle of waters. A fragile land that can disappear in a second. But it’s still there. Despite the cruelty of Time, Waters and Fate.
I have no idea how Crete Island smells. Or how are its flavors, but I know already I’m gonna love all the time we’re gonna spend there.
Circled by waters…
In the middle of nowhere…