Breakfast looking out the window at the Iraklion Hotel. The street below has become a symbol of the city and a quiet morning entertainment. A crooked little street - a stage on which two or three people appear at a time: a woman shaking a small carpet and throwing out the water from her bucket, a girl on a bicycle with left hand on handlebars and right holding her mobile, an old woman in black crossing the road with small grandson to talk to a friend, a young man carrying a cup of coffee, a woman followed by two small and happy dogs, an old man using his umbrella as a cane who stops at an outside table not for coffee but for a five minute rest. Sometimes there are pauses between the little scenes and the sets take over. Small cars, a tile roof deteriorating, shops, balconies, shutters, street signs, a stone building no longer habitable, rubbish bins. A modern city within the Venetian walls and spread outside them. A port city with a history going back to neolithic times. A home.
And then by bus to the airport and back to our Cyprus home.
