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Post-coitus tristesse, or

…postpartum depression, or jet-lag, or there’s-no-there-there, or bonjour tristesse, or s.a.d., or depleted, or low t., or Shoo Fly Don’t Bother Me, or stone in my shoe, or Stop the World – I Want to Get Off, or gas, or A Hole in the Bucket, or Pictures of the Gone World by Lawrence Ferlinghetti The world(…)

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This place, three

I occasionally order a cream pie from a tiny kiosk at the port beside what once was the old old bakery run by brothers. After heating the opulent pastry, the pleasant owner shakes a powdering of confectioners sugar across its crusty surface, smiles and asks, Cinema? I nod. She shakes on a small cloud of cinnamon. The(…)

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Bad good luck

Speaking of bad good luck: [Example #1] In summer one of my guests (a friend who I’ve known since she was four years old) told me that some beads she was wearing while washing her hands at the bathroom sink while staying at my Greek house had broken, scattered, many disappearing down the sinkhole. Since the necklace was the last(…)

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October 9th

Various statuettes loiter in a corner of my enclosed terrace. Joining them, my father as a young college graduate about to take on the world. And my mother too. Little could he imagine the bumps and tripwires he would encounter concluding with his death in New York overlooking the East River on October 9th a few years ago.(…)

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This place, two

Finally the days of rain end; a rim of sunset can be seen. Doors have swollen from the rain.The door to the old house won’t open; the door to the front gate won’t close. During the downpour, the leak under the metal spiral stairway stopped but water from the kitchen ceiling dripped onto the table where my papers and fresh bread(…)

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Singular friend

  Saluting my singular friend Rie on her birthday: Rie with her granddaughter, Zoe, on Hydra. Rie, Zoe and I. Walking the back road evermore.   TASHKENT PAGES – Anna Akhmatova I was with you in the mysterious gloom, Walking as if in no-man’s-land, But suddenly the crescent moon Skimmed like a diamond boat over the(…)

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Ants in my bed

One ant, two ants, three ants four, My bed is their grocery store, Five ants, six ants, seven ants, eight, They are swarming on my duvet.* (*author unknown) I would (of course) have been able to guess that ants would be attracted to Loukoumades (honey puffs). Surely. But not Cretan Dakos (rusks w. tomato, feta, oregano, olive oil) or Briami (baked(…)

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This place

If you dropped your wallet in the central square, it would still be there the following day; untouched, including contents. Someone I haven’t seen in years sits at the next café table. Without fanfare, we resume a conversation begun in 1985. A bakery, once new, is known as the Old New Bakery. The more recent, the New(…)

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Why we need schmaltz

At the movies, needing a good cry: Random Harvest, 1942, with Ronald Coleman and Greer Garson. War-addled Charles, an English officer, has amnesia. He’s in a sanatorium. An orderly forgets to lock a door on the day World War I ends and Charles wanders out into the world. He is drawn into a cabaret during a celebratory performance and taken under the wing of Paula,(…)

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