Poetic Movements

The oven door open its light on shining above bizarre shapes; then the house was no longer a house but a little bakery for us to play and to learn a few times through the year. I only learned her tastes and smells the soft plasteline touch of dough the secret thefts of unbaked bread in the littlest round shapes – and she always knew. What a scent a foil can restrain and how sweeter bitter homier your Easter bread can taste found unexpectedly in different roots by the summer ends. 20 August 2018, Samothraki. Photo: sunset, 19 August 2018, Samothraki.

The other night driving on the motorcycle along the coastline of Samothraki passing by the Gattilusi Tower of Palaiopolis there was the galaxy extending above us a great grey alley as if the Tower was built among the stars but had rooted itself through the sheerest of the cliffs making the sky seem a gear just away. August 2018, Samothraki.