Hypotheses about the gestures of the Venus de Milo. Louvre museum (Paris, France). Credit: Public domain

Friday, February 18, 2022

Tonight, I’m the lone guy at the bar, sipping his drink head down as if said day wasn’t on his side. I’m not sad, however, glad there’s a bar open to observe people. And by now everyone here knows I’m American. There are two couples, two other loners, not including me, vibing to lo-fi indie pop.

How fitting, yeah?

The bartender mentions there are no specials. In fact, she told me all the drinks are special. That conversation alone is why most these bar patrons know I’m from the US. I’ve gotten many other assumptions of my nationality.

I think it’s the negro hair.

It’s night time so I can’t see the rest of the Caldera from out my window seat. But that’s fine. Tomorrow after my run I’ll be here to meet her.

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No. I made that up.

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It’s one day later and I didn’t run. Instead, I hiked to this rock.

There was a church on the other side. It was locked. I tried all the doors.

On the way back I met this lizard.

I told it my shadow is nothing significant to fear.

And then I walked past one of the many flights of steps I ran up last week.

Now I’m eager to step foot on Santorini in the summer.

Hot boy summer.

Hot girl.

Most are runners.

Since I’m writing this on my last sunset in Santorini, thinking about how this morning, I missed my only chance to see the sunrise, this is what I got.

I wanted to see the sun break the horizon. And since I’ve seen the sun do the opposite from outside this bar during sunset, and leave the horizon, I figure it’s the same. Just the other direction.

I tell myself this as a way to get over missing the sunrise. If I’ve seen it go one way, I can envision it go another. As long as earth’s canvas is still there, right?

No.

Replication is not the same, however, that’s art. Art is, the physically abstracted idea of the mind. Where it originates is up to consumers to waste their time on.

Ok thanks and bye Santorini.

-Budd