Kristin Tsalapatani — Journeying

Walking to the Sponge Warehouse

Along the promenade, to the left, most buildings are two-storied. Some are textured with beige cobble-stone facades, others are rendered, painted in soft ochre and yellow tones.

But all are square and flat-roofed. Wide bands of smooth plasterwork frame their dark windows that reflect the sea, the bobbing boats and the stark silhouettes of the mountains beyond.

On the Road to Emporio

Winding around the sudden curves, on the right is a steep drop down to the fertile plain below, studded with lush green fruit trees.

To the left, the other steep incline, this time soaring up to the clear blue sky. Grey-beige vertical walls of barren rock, pocked with caves of all sizes. Empty eye sockets staring down, smiling lips and talking mouths, as if the cliffs are alive. Are these majestic mountains looking down at the creatures below, laughing at them? Are they speaking, warning them of the future? Or are these large holes left by giant fingers struggling to lift them away from those creatures roping them to climb and trying to master them?