Carmel Kostos — Adding a further frame to Fotis and Kathy’s story
Afterwards, they began to make their way back down the steep descent, with him holding out his hand, conveying something between them that made her feel as though he was reading her mind — instinctively knowing the parts of the pathway that challenged her or where she was most afraid she might fall. She was impressed by his thoughtfulness and consideration for her needs. Irwin, by contrast, would have been a mile ahead, indifferent to how far along the descending pathway she was or whether she was managing the occasionally pebble-strewn steps. She pushed thoughts of Irwin aside, for at this moment, she desired this world — with its red poppies casting a blush into her cheeks and yellow daisies mirroring the happiness glowing inside her.
When they reached the wooden citadel gates, she sat down for a moment on one of the low rock walls to catch her breath. First, taking in the spectacular scene of Pothia, framed by the ancient entryway, and glistening in the morning light.
A scotch thistle beside her caught her attention — its purple crown and spiky green leaves just like those that grew wild among the granite remnants at the quarry where her father had worked back home in Australia. Home, she thought, as imagery of the Bombo Headland and its wide, sandy beach appeared momentarily in her mind's eye — it felt an eternity away.
She turned to see him walking off into low-growing shrubbery that seemed to lead nowhere. He called out to her, “Ela, ela,” — “Come, come” — while simultaneously making that wide, rounding hand gesture that means, come here.
Smiling to herself, she thought: The Greeks do that well — gesturing and talking at the same time: a kind of multitasking. She got to her feet and trustingly followed him along what was now an apparent walkway; well-worn but masked by an array of wild oregano and other unfamiliar herbs. She breathed in the sweet aroma rising under her footsteps. Catching up to him, she followed the line of his arm as he pointed towards what was now evident as the ancient ruins of a building's wall, comprising a mix of intricate terracotta pieces and small stones, systematically and tightly filling the spaces between larger stones. As she absorbed the wonder of this ancient craft, he leaned toward her, speaking in Greek. She understood only a few words, and as he appeared to explain the scene before them, she began to catch on. Yet, she realised it wasn’t the artistry of this remarkable sight that was feeding her curiosity, but rather the intimacy of his breath, and his words passing between them.
