So. Meat and poultry is cheaper here.
So was the food we ate—and appreciated; set on a tray, set on our table and shared. And we realise how good it is to say goodbye to strangers and know we'll see them all tomorrow. And each will have their own night to compare.
Look: all the cars are black. As visitors—as guests—this might be true. And we felt like guests; the hospitality of the curry house where every chair turned for us, every table joined and every diner through the door after asked politely to come back later saw to that.
Even with the sun at its peak the street anticipates the end of the day. It's to be a slow tailing off. Workmen know this, excavating the site of our goodnights. They are careful to miss the distortion of the road, the sudden softness that fascinates the woman in the fireplace shop. Pity anyone rushing out of News & Booze.
We were in no rush.
The road tells us the only way is forward (and any floating arrow otherwise is absurd).
So did Ioannis. Thanks Ioannis, goodnight Ioannis!
You checked maps on your phones. Before I could stop you you were tracking us. And before I could stop you you were checking hotel reviews.
We were promised threadbare towels! Grey pillows! Blood on the sheets! The decor was to be 'shabby, shabby, shabby'! You made note of every other hotel we passed.
Too late to turn back?
You've already lost the way! And all we care about is the warmth of tonight. It's May and our bodies, full of mild spice, match the air. Finally (the winter's been long)!
We all but skipped chanting "shabby, shabby, shabby!" and shaking our heads!
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