It’s those walks on this island “Venice”, the island that looks like nothing but itself. Those walks take me back to the past and to memories I didn’t even know I have.
From that pink flower that looks the same as the one we used to have in front of our house in the village. To the jasmine flower which looks different but has the same smell of the one that used to escape from the backyard into my room on hot summer days, in the village.
To the sound of kids and conversations that brings back familiar voices and it takes me a second to understand that those are not the same voices and this is not even the same language!
The familiarity in the strangest things around, to the dreams, the dreams and fantasies of the silent walks.
The walks under the darkening skies, under the reflections of the street lights and through the narrow alleys. And for a second you are not you and this is all a dream!
It is this city, this island with all its people, the modern, the classic, the old, the young, and most interestingly the odd ones. The ones who appear as if coming from a different century.
Out of nowhere a person would appear with a coat thrown over his shoulders as he hasted himself along the small alleys and disappears. As if a time gate had opened and taken him back to where he belongs.
While I stood there lost between the present and the past, between the world of dreams and that of reality!