The White Mountains
Back from Crete. Ah ... seven days of heaven! Will talk about Crete later. Took Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis and Other Stories, R.M.Liuzza's translation of 'Beowulf', and a collection of Maggie O'Dwyer's poetry, 'Laughter Heard from the Road', along for the ride. Bought Michael Hofmann's translation of Kafka's work about two years ago, because his name was popping up everywhere, but never seemed to have the time to read it . His name cropped up again alongside that of Karl Marx during a one act play that I saw in Charleville, just before going away. When it got to what books I should take away with me... mmm ... I thought ...perhaps its 'Kafka time!'
A choir of women shakes
the blossoms from a pear tree
and in harmony my mother
waves goodbye, my father
sits beside me on that long drive
through the mountains.
found in a line of trees at twilight.
Back to reading matter. When I had digested Maggie O'Dwyer's delightful collection, I headed into the bookshop in Kalyves to buy some books about the history and culture of Crete, and in particular, their resistance campaign against the German occupation during World War II. I had already dipped into Anthony Beevor's, 'Crete, The Battle and the Resistance', but I wanted something written from a Cretan viewpoint. I found it in the guise of 'Cretan Runner' written by George Psychoundakis, translated and introduced by Patrick Leigh Fermor.
George Psychoundakis 1920 - 2006
So where does the 'slut' bit come in? You never would have guessed it, would you! Well yes... I ...am ... a ... 'slut', there is absolutely no doubting that fact. It's just one of those things I have to accept about myself. Whenever I go abroad, I'm afraid I'm simply unable to resist... foreign ... CIGARETTES! Liberated from the grow-bag of decency and allegiance, and not necessarily swayed by financial expediency, I find myself wooed by the exotic aromas of foreign tobacco, the different colours ... textures ... lengths ... thicknesses and ... strengths. I notice I hold them differently between my fingers, my facial expressions change accordingly, I cross my legs or ankles, sometimes just simply holding my knees together gently, my head might shift a little to the left or the right, I might jut my chin a little northwards. I'm a slave ... impervious to their subtle, yet blatant charm ... I surrender! I'm afraid I'm just an old-fashioned cigarette slut!