• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 03
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Sipping cold retsina on the beach
we watch the sun sink over the horizon
and smile as the young boy
plunges energetically into the warm sea.
The umbrellas are furled, ready for tomorrow,
and the sand is swept clean.
We sigh with contentment, relaxing into
the soft evening air.

Something causes us to glance to our right,
where we see a silent procession of people
making their way along the edge of the water.
There are adults and children,
babes in arms, and older folk.
They look out of place, but it takes a moment
to realise why.
These are no holidaymakers, enjoying the balmy air
and beautiful sunset.
They are a raggle-taggle bunch, looking exhausted,
some wearing life jackets, others clutching bundles.

Assylum seekers.
Fresh off a boat.
Landed on our holiday beach, our piece of paradise.



We stare, then glance at each other in embarrassment,
uncertain how to react.
A waiter approaches and deferentially tells us
our table is ready.
Pleased to have something to do we slip on our sandals
and head to the terrace.
Once seated, the little tableau has passed
and we are left to our souvlaki,
lost for words.