Το Πικρό Τσάι της Ξενιτιάς

Prepare for the English summer

Christ Church Meadows

 

The whole of London is holding its breath – while the clouds gather.

We all move slowly through the thick mess of the night.

Sticky.

Fragrant.

Silent.

The heat sticks on the walls of your tiny room (all London rooms are tiny), gets under the bed, leaves your head full of cotton.

Fluffy.

Confused.

Silent.

And then the sky becomes an illuminated curtain… the first drops fall… London inhales… the rains comes down in waterfalls… and London exhales and breathes again.

We can all sit up again.

We survived.

For now.

 

 

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