cloaked in cloud

cloaked in clouds

flown in from africa

everything is damp

nothing dries

wind swirls endlessly

around windmills

between buildings

through the cafes

chora is invisible

shrouded in white

All day the clouds descended on Chora, wrapping us in a warm steambath from Africa. Laundry hung limp and wet. Skin felt damp. Bed sheets were sweating. We drove down to the port and into sunshine. Everyone was walking around in summer clothing.

Back up to Chora for lunch and we watched the clouds drift into the taverna, softening the light. Winds from the south blew endlessly. Bouganvillea scratched across the windows. The air was thick enough to chew. Really glad that I took advantage of good weather yesterday for a swim.

In the morning, Nadya decided to bathe the abandoned kitten first in vinegar, then in a chamomile solution. He objected at first, but finally accepted Nadya as his mother figure. She managed to transform him into a clean little critter. His chances of survival are still quite slim as there are no humans prepared to take him into their homes.

In the evening we ventured out into the clouds for a drink at Bayoko. No one else was visible on the pathways or in the Cafe. We wandered the narrow pathways of a ghost town, unable to see more than two feet ahead. Eerie lights in windows of homes, rumblings from TVs and the wind were all that we saw and heard. The air was still warmer outside than inside. Our landlady had decided to cloak our bed for winter with a heavy eiderdown. We couldn't breathe!