Ultimately it was the sensation of my worries dissolving into the water, the sky, the sun.
Summer in the mediterranean coast always reveals, if not a clean slate, but a wash over sand anew. There is a rolling sense of relief whenever I rest my sights on its shimmering vastness. I find reassurance in its repetitive waves, a fluid harbour where I could cast away a net of my worries, confident in the knowledge that it has enough depth for my acceptance. Undeniably this is the element that resonates with me most, its devastating beauty, its ability to reflect the surrounding light, and ultimately, its constant, predictable unpredictability.
This trip varied from the epiphanies I had in Malta in summer 2023. Unlike my fractal state at the time, Cyprus met a dizzyingly present version of myself. Each frame of this trip showed up in HD, accompanied by a note of plans (Places to Eat, Budget, Schedule), an undeterred holiday aesthetic vision inspired by Pinterest (the photographer in me is alive and breathing, if a little predictable), a healthy sense of carefreeness where budget was concerned, and a hyper awareness of my every action (as unlocked by my therapist).
My state of minds aside (what is a journal for if not this, then?), I emerged post vacation haze immensely satisfied at finally indulging in a long overdue beach excursion (2024's summer had its own grand plans). A 3-day (island)fanfare of exploring ancient tombs, visiting mythical rocks, boating around a gorgeous island, lounging in the sand, parasailing, paddling, being impressed by lilac sunsets, and finding my favourite summer cafe in the world thus far (Cliff Bar, Grecian Park Hotel, Protaras), I land in London tanned and fulfilled, ready to further be spoiled.
Summer 2025, here we go, and may the odds be higher and better.
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