Cyprus                  Night Walks in Limassol        30 September 2024


   What I enjoy most about Cyprus right now is wandering through the
   drowsy streets of Limassol in the late evening, when the traffic has
   subsided, and people either hurry home or, drawn like moths to a
   flame, make their way to the sea.  These walks bring me a great sense
   of solace, as they remind me of the time I lived in Kutaisi.  The
   same air of mystery and uncertainty lingers; I don't yet know this
   city well, and so each walk down to the sea, along randomly chosen
   streets, feels like a small adventure.

   On these walks, I always take my harmonica with me.  If I happen to
   reach the sea - which I often do - I pull it out and play a little
   tune for myself.  Last time, it was "Take Me Home, Country Roads."
   Oh Lord, there's that strange concept of "home" again!  The sound of
   my playing is swallowed by the waves crashing against the shore, so
   passersby rarely pay attention to me.  And I'm grateful for that: it
   allows me to fully enjoy the music.  It's as good as any meditation
   for me.

   Yesterday, during one of my night walks, around 23:00, I decided to
   visit the pier, which is about a fifteen-minute walk from where I'm
   staying.  The city at this time, in this place, was surprisingly
   empty and quiet, and once I found myself on the pier, I eagerly
   embraced the still and bittersweet darkness that enveloped me in an
   instant.  In the distance, ships stood with their decks illuminated
   by yellow lamps, casting shimmering golden paths across the sea,
   stretching all the way to my pier.  And then, there was one path of
   moonlight.

   After a long period of social isolation, I still find it difficult to
   fully engage with the world around me, so these moments of solitude
   are precious.  Half an hour of listening to the whispers of the sea
   is enough to restore the energy I've spent working hard all day, and
   to calm my restless mind, even if only slightly.  Each time I look
   out at the sea, I remember the vastness and unimaginable diversity of
   the world, and for a while, I stop feeling homesick.  In those
   moments, I briefly believe that home can be anywhere.





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