Yesterday we drove to the city of Chania. It was bitterly cold and we'd had hailstones during the night. On a road above the sea we could see white horses bobbing over the waves and in another place huge rollers crashing onto a beach.
But most intriguing of all were the patterns formed by the sea below a high ridge. I looked down and for a moment imagined I was seeing lace edged fabric floating on the water. These patterns fluttered over patches of turquoise, dark blue and here and there an almost purple sea. They rolled and curled until they looked like great bales of material which tumbled forwards to unwind and rewind before rushing back to sea. Within the folds I thought I glimpsed the faces of people sailing in sea weed boats.
On our return journey the sea was rough and dark. The images I'd seen or imagined I'd seen had
vanished forever.
(wallpapers)
But most intriguing of all were the patterns formed by the sea below a high ridge. I looked down and for a moment imagined I was seeing lace edged fabric floating on the water. These patterns fluttered over patches of turquoise, dark blue and here and there an almost purple sea. They rolled and curled until they looked like great bales of material which tumbled forwards to unwind and rewind before rushing back to sea. Within the folds I thought I glimpsed the faces of people sailing in sea weed boats.
On our return journey the sea was rough and dark. The images I'd seen or imagined I'd seen had
vanished forever.
(wallpapers)
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