SINKHOLES, Chapter Twelve: Nowhere Island.
Retrace the pages of the novels and their Protagonists, making each chapter a journey, an “Author‘s Journey”, where the protagonist is the reader. Choose and read your novel, but when you’ve read all the pages back in Meeting Benches, in the section “Author‘s Travels” where each chapter is an unusual type of travel.
In the opinion of Vassilis, replied that house more than others as Jacques had asked: was far from Ormos Ammou and annoying tourists who frequented the island in the good season, allowed to reach the ferry within 5 km of decent road was close to the village of Choiro, near the church of San Giorgio and had an amazing view of the sunset. For only 30,000 Euros – which were added some restructuring charges – that structure the island that the natives called Cosmas house, surrounded by olive and cypress trees overlooking the sea, met all the requirements requested of it by the purchaser French, before deciding which churches you can watch the sunset on the evening of September 23. According to Homer, in the south coast of the island of Othoni, where is the place to appreciate the soft white sand, the goddess Calypso had bewitched Ulysses, and the cave that Jacques could be seen from the viewpoint that was breathtaking bore the name of that deity. But that sunset showed him also the incredibly clear water and unspool landscapes.
The wind was almost non-existent and you could not imagine the turquoise waves that had created the spurs and caves which were now under his dazzled eyes. Looking at the island’s hinterland east Mediterranean vegetation, which grew to 400 meters above sea level, had the warm colors of the sunset and the olive groves seemed to be almost the gardens of the 13 villages of the island, where the 200 remaining locals were mainly focused on convenient landing of Amnos, from where a path is forwarded to the fascinating forest until Horio, the most important village. Vassilis had recommended to Jacques to make the excursion to the village of Damaskàtika, north of the island, to go down to the wide sandy beach of the bay of Fiki. Noting that last summer sunset, the face of Jacques Delors embellished the warm shades of orange, and his eyes were half closed while inhaling deeply the emotion of the moment in which there was nothing to understand or love.
Of course, his life could have been what he had under his eyes, the beauty of the flowers on the grass, the seagulls above him, the light breeze that brushed his hair, his arms shaking knees, sitting waiting for the desire to reopen the imperceptible passage opened to him by Petra, ask again where his hands at sunset, where everything was extinguished by surrounding stars, ask her to hold onto his hands and take it out of time, grief and desire for peace of the heart. But the left-handed creative knew perfectly well that there was a time for fishing and one for drying nets, each had its own wind sailing and island was not help thinking, that’s why getting carried his harms to the sky asking God that place far away from the nearest land was the place to find peace.