My bare feet graze the chalky blue sandstone, leaving a whitish powder on the soles of my feet. My eyes trail down the winding steps, getting lost navigating the endless labyrinth. The sun hits my face like a powerful smack as I walk. My breaths become heavy, my fingers lightly gripping the fine black railing to keep from falling. A gentle breeze blows by my ears, the summer heat scalding each exposed surface of my skin. I hadn’t been here in what felt like forever. My body is treating my old home like a stranger. I feel like a stranger.

Seagulls float in the cerulean sky above, their cry loud and rough. Theirs is the only sound I can decipher beyond my thoughts. Street music I had heard earlier, slowly fades as I advance upwards, leaving me completely alone. Every few steps I meet a rounded black door, my heart sinking when the realisation hits that it’s not mine. Potted plants accompany each door, each pot more vibrant than the other, contrasting the withered flora inside. The ambience sends a chill down my body, enough for me to forget the blistering heat of the Greek sun. My pace quickens up the teal steps, my toes barely brushing each mound. With every stride, my eyelids sink lower, my breaths longer. It’s too late to turn back. I don’t want to anyway. But it’s hard to fight the voice in my head that tells me to give up. What am I trying to achieve anyway? I had left this town, why now bring up things of the past?

I stop discouraging myself, coming across an anemone. Its bright red hue lifts my eyelids. I overcome the steps, meeting the loud crashing of the ocean below. I watch as the different shades of blue and green swirl together. I close my eyelids and take a deep breath. My nose picks up the scent of salt and lilacs. I grip the anemone flower in my hand tightly, as though it could easily float away.

This is why I came here.

Learn more about the contest which inspired this story:  Photo Flora 2019-01