As I (wrote this in my journal four days ago), a flashlight is packaged between my chin and chest. The balcony doors sit wide open, as well as the door leading to the hallway. This serves two purposes: to let in as much light as possible from the cafe across the street, and to invite any blind soul in the hotel to spend this dark night in my company. Also, in the company of the only flashlight in the building.
The power went out when I was about three seconds from the shower. It didn't stop me, either. Perching this tiny LED flashlight on the glass shelf in the bathroom conjured memories of showering in candlelight at the co-op after the electrical fire.
The power is on across the street. A few of the occupied rooms at the B Hotel are illuminated, and their occupants lounge on beds and chairs in front of wide-open balcony doors. Only three floors up, I stand in darkness with wind from the ocean drying my hair. Then again, maybe I'm being observed by someone else even more invisible.
Occupying the ground floor of B Hotel's building, Cafe P serves dozens of loungers, regulars and families at its busiest time of day (11 p.m.) The power is not off in their homes, but it may as well be. They would be at Cafe P under neon light or candlelight.
I should be out there, too. Enjoying the breeze, oblivious of the electrical state of this temporary resting house, cooling this overheated body with winds from Greece. But...I just showered. And need to catch up on sleep. Ya3ni, there's always a reason.
No one's returned yet from their evening excursion to join me in chasing away the shadows from this small circle of light. Time for bed, then.
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