walking and walking in the streets finding overturned stray cats lying on their back waiting for the sun to slow down.

hoping to get lost. but alas another vendor selling cheap imitation belts and watches. another ice cream parlor with glassy stares and resting limbs. the tranparent surface of post cards and plastic rotating racks hanging expensive jewelry.

another solemn asian fellow sitting on the curb throwing a vegetable shaped jelly substance that upon impacting the mat of cardboard spread out near his knees turns into a slimey puddle while enabling the sound of cursplat to resonate softly off the stone walls of the buildings nearby. then reforms itself into the original shape that it held just seconds ago bracing the palm of his hand. wishing to be sold but his ambition is linguiring no where beyond the act of cursplat after cursplat....cursplat splat.....cursplat. i wonder how he made it this far with his little toys. i probably saw him on twenty different corners today. the same routine. the same posture. the same involved rhythm. maybe not the same person.

today hiding under building shadows and canapies. looking for the acropolis. squinting through the narrow pieces of light. and all the sounds
falling over and around. pigeons make it apoint to be seen.
found a record store. only looked for a minute. have no time for records. found the roof to the record store. saw the acropolis from here. thought it may have been enough.
probably not. find the hill. walk up the hill. pay some friendly lady your money. the man next to me has a baby sticking out of his baby backpack. he asks the lady to give his baby a kiss. she is wearing those huge sunglasses. looks like a big bug. kisses the baby. baby seems happy.

up top the wind is like a giant empty can of beans with one tiny stone inside. rolling around as if on the deck of a boat. back and forth and slowly. aimless.
i sit on the edge and watch the city. thinking maybe if i were to jump the wind would catch me and i could make it pass all the tiny reflections of sunlight....the chrome finish of window paynes. solar panels stacked high up waiting with the sky.

with the motion of his hand a security man guarding the hill and wind and most of the sky gently warns me to move. if i could see past his sunglasses his eyes would have read more easily: "no, you probably wont make it like you hope....... the wind would suck you down into the city yes. but not like something gental as a feather or lazy like a cloud. maybe a stone polished from the ocean. maybe a stone waiting to roll down into the people and their buildings and their families and ice cream parlors and souviner shops. trying to find the gentle beat of the waves. maybe you could start a new city somehow if you keep crashing and pulling this polish around and over and over. maybe it would start again and everything would be made just of hands and feet and eyes with no intention of hiding beneath the shade."

i had a conversation with a new friend last night. he says when you take the spiritual and you mix it with the material you find religion. he also said that society relies on contention to create the dynamics only possible for the social. he was drinking ouzo and had a big smile. and says: "sorry its late i should stop talking and sleep". his beard is big and uneven.... about the size of my own.

when walking through the ruins of cities....it always seems to be hiding somewhere. the people.... maybe just resting.. avoiding some definate shape or context for a moment. waiting in the shade..for the day to pass and cool and become something to navigate...maybe as if being in a museum.