I have on two previous summer occasions attempted to describe a view. I am not sure about the success of the previous two attempts but, undeterred, I will try again.
The previous articles were both triggered by some nostalgic ambience that attached a previous experience to the present.Some long-lingering thought is suddenly thrust into the foreground in an involuntary manner in the same way that a smell can take you back to school or some ancient picnic.
The sea always focuses the memory. In this case it is silver, reflecting the sun's rays as the day comes towards a close.Sundown - Sundowner - Over the yardarm - a strong scent of Bombay Sapphire gin with a slice of bacon.A reflection on the day - a reflection on the water.A battered cactus tells you that this is the Mediterranean, with its particular shade of white/green.Geraniums to guard against adder invasion and scrub hanging onto the rocks.What rocks! A concrete mix of uneven lumps of stone.
A monastery guards the coast, with monks contemplating the nothingness of the horizon.A yacht sails off towards it.
A framed view - a picture postcard.
This view could be in any number of tour operators'brochures. It is the view that awakens the reader on Sunday morning breakfast in mid-February.A looking forward.
An anticipation of times not working.A dream that turns grey to blue, as skin turns from white, through red, to tan.
This image is now destroyed for us, in the same way that Waterstone's made Vivaldi's Four Seasons impossible to listen to. It is a marketing tool that, for many people, creates disappointment on arrival.
Looking carefully can, occasionally, result in disappointment.
WA, from the view below