Wanderings

and then there was paros. the first day i walked as far as i could toward one end of the island. two dogs joined me in the journey, and showed me all their favorite spots along the way; secluded beaches, gardens. when at one point i started to deviate from our path, they came running back, yipping, to find me. we walked out to the church and watched the waves and i gave them some of my water, and then we turned back toward parikia as the sun sank low over the ocean. the dogs left me the moment they smelled an evening barbecue wafting up over the hedges of a beachside bar and grill; they did an about face in unison and disappeared up the driveway. 

the next day, i walked as far as i could toward the other end of the island. i took a random stairway which led me to seaside grottoes, and a church cut into the rocks. i knelt and prayed, listening to silence between waves outside. i sat and wrote in my journal, ate a portion of my picnic. i got up and moseyed along and took a random path that led to fields overlooking the ocean. i sat, wrote in my journal. ate some more of my picnic. i walked and walked some more, through backyards and along roads and out onto cliffs covered in rusty moss. i marveled, i thought about geology, the devastating beauty of volcanic activity. i picked up a snail shell, never imagining that it would come alive four weeks later on a train in rome. i found an empty beach and fell asleep on it, and when i woke up i had some more of my picnic. and then it was time to head home.