June 19, 2016 § 1 Comment

Yesterday I discovered a lost cheap underwater camera, one of those you can buy at airports and beach kiosks. This is my foot underwater in August 2015. I was thinking of good things. 

It was a hot humid day. At the same beach where this hotel has now its umbrellas, I used to come swimming with my grandma and cousins. Grandma wore a huge black swimming suit that looked almost like a dress to me. My mum always bought for me a red bikini, sometimes with white dots. Grandma had a long white ponytail, I had a long black ponytail. She couldn’t swim, I could. She’s gone, I’m still here. Underwater. Love.

The Sirens call the names. The names of the lost loves. It is the water that transports their moans, that turns them into a song, that ties its strophes with sea grass at the backboard of the passing ships. And they hear them. And they stop. And they sink. And the Sirens learn their names. 


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