The Fabricator E-Book

Z.J. Galos

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Deutsch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 337

Beschreibung

Pablo, an artist on the move, had left the South of Africa, working successfully as an architect, as most of his clients settled in other countries. Via Dubai, he arrived in Greece, where he cannot find work in his profession, but he would enjoy with his friends the freedom of creating art and poetry. His art exhibitions were well attended, but he could only sell a few paintings. As his funds diminished, he met Alica in the nick of time, an architect in Bratislava, who invited him. Enticed by a new adventure, he leaves Athens and Alica offers him lodgings at her studio. Exploring the city center, Pablo meets Tommy by an incident, recovering Tommy's hat blown off by a gust of wind. Invited to Tommy's Art Shop Bratislava, Pablo is hired to copy popular art pieces, which Lisa, Tommy's partner sells successfully in China. When Lisa intends to open Art Shop Paris, Pablo produces a four-panel work which depicts five different nude women, as a homage to Picasso. The work causes great interest, followed by chaos, as it is stolen before the official opening of Art Shop Paris. Pablo's task to recover the painting, with his assistant and a local investigator, is initially successful due to a female staff member. However, Pablo and Lisa fear that the appearance of a dusky man is related to the art theft. Will the grand opening be safe and memorable?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Prolog

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Prolog

He fell from the skies, a young and wayward Icarus, ending in the underworld’s darkness. When he woke up, his world of a happy and colourful lushness had disintegrated. The garden of golden apples had vanished. A barren island of rocky outcrops in the midst of an inky-blue sea, and waves bashing against the rocks with a devastating torrent. He slept exhausted and when he woke up he cowered in the entrance to a cave, where others, folded into their layers of clothing, were waiting. Nobody spoke. It would have been futile to raise one’s voice against the stormy seas, and the mad, howling wind.

More newcomers appeared. He sat down next to a woman, whose covered-up face left only the eyes visible. He noticed in their brown colour reflected flickers of the harsh light. At times, he felt her glances on his body with a half-torn clothing wrapped tightly around him. He nodded and then sat down next to her. “I am Pablo,” he said to her. “I’m Ana”, she said and took his outstretched hand. “Are you thirsty?” Ana asked.

“Yes.” He murmured. She handed him a flask with water. He drank greedily. Handing back the flask, their fingers touched. A spark of electricity raced like a flame along his arm. He pulled his hand back. She smiled. “I have watched you many times,” she said.

“Where?”

“Drawing, painting and writing.”

“Where?”

“On the sanctuary of Delphi.” His eyelids were like lead and he could not open them any longer. Was her water scented? He fell to the side like a sack of beans.

When he woke, he couldn’t see anybody. Somebody shouted at him in a strange language. He exited the cave and saw the ferryman, who waved his arms. He had to don his sunglasses, he recalled having bought them at a discount shop. The salesman told him that they were originally modelled for Steve Mc Queen. However, he liked the Italian design and probably so had once the prolific film star as well.

The ferryman asked him for the fare money. He searched his pocket. He fingered on a coin that he offered the tall lean and sunburnt man. He looked at it and pocketed the coin. Pablo wondered if the friendly woman had slipped him the coin. However, he settled back and gazed at the turquoise sea that kept calm. It seemed that they were drifting on a large lake of pure turquoise colour that mingled with light and darker blue. In the far distance a yellow and green strip of land became visible.

Arriving at land he thanked the ferryman and stepped ahead into the warm soft sand. His clothes had dried and he realized he had new clothes on, but he could not remember where he had changed. While he thought back about the mysterious woman with the brown eyes that burned holes into his heart, he walked toward a hill, where a city lay beyond. The world revolved around him, the skies rotated and the hills spun around. He fell exhausted into the warm sand.

He was a small child with golden hair and a sunny nature. Sitting upright on the haywain. Gran entering the yard to their home, when his Mom appeared and shouted: “Duck my child, duck!” At that moment, he felt a rope tightening around his neck and pulling him down in a summersault. He fell and landed on his feet, his knees were shaking. Mom had left the washing line across the yard. When the shock was over they all laughed and joked. “My little Icarus,” Mom said, “but I’m so glad nothing happened to you.” She kissed and hugged him. Gran scolded Mom about leaving the washing line.

Mom taught him drawing. She watched with great interest that he had inherited her talent for drawing and painting and encouraged him. He was dreaming of becoming an artist. An artist who travelled the world and sketched out whatever he would see. He would make one day a great book from all his travels and tell stories about his adventures.

The neighbor’s daughter Rikki, had taken interest in his drawings and they often sat together looking at his drawings. Rikki would ask him to draw her animals and he would draw her anything, mostly elephants, his favourites.

Once he had finished his primary education, he transferred to the capital to take up his studies in art and architecture. He had lost contact with Rikki and his early childhood friends. He had found new friends and fell in love with a dark haired girl, who had brown eyes. Then later he became disappointed with girlfriends and out of the blue he decided to sail to Africa’s Cape of the Good Hope. His childhood dreams should become reality: To see elephants in their natural habitat…

“You will burn in the sun,” a woman’s voice woke him. “Have some water, you are dehydrated already.”

“How come?” He stretched, got up and took the water bottle. Refreshed he introduced himself. “Pablo.” The brown haired woman with an attractive figure and brown, warm eyes smiled. “Like Picasso?” He laughed. “Indeed, my favourite artist.”

“Are you an artist too?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so, with your long hair.” He laughed.

“You are pretty. An actress?” She blushed.

“No, but I used to be playing in an amateur theatre. I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, aha, what do you teach?”

“Literature, with a major interest in poetry.”

He rubbed his eyes. It was impossible to eradicate art from his being. However hard his Mom had tried to facilitate him with an education that would allow a good career in architecture, he would drift back time and again into a creative mood, producing art. But then he had been falling off a haywain, a scaffolding, a horse, and had been disappointed with love affairs. Were these happenings the fount for his stories? Were beloved women his Muses who inspired the creation of his art?

1.

Pablo woke from a restless night. For some time his sleep was interrupted through nightmares. His friends had left the country and if they had the funds required, emigrated to Australia and Canada. Pablo had worked hard to make a living as an independent architect, but he had experienced that his client base had dwindled, month by month. He steadily restored his home in the Northern suburbs of Joburg and when he found an amicable agent, he would place it, through him, on the realty market.

The months ahead were difficult. Planning to leave a place that he had lived for a long time, was painful. However, his friends recommended him to leave, as it had become impossible to survive in a city that had been increasingly marred by violence. Armed robberies, carjacking, shootings, burglaries and rape.

Pablo managed to restore his home in time and he hoped that he could sell his belongings. But certain pieces of furniture and memorabilia he wanted to take with him. Besides, his beloved library he would under no circumstances leave behind. He made a packing list and investigated moving companies.

His work as an architect had been interesting and eventful. He had met many different people and in time could ascertain their characters. It helped him to negotiate his contracts. But times became extremely difficult and most remaining clients were looking to clinch a bargain. Only Carl, an engineer and friend had always clinched some work and could sustain his life. Pablo had worked with Carl on many projects and at one time they had met a foreman on site, who was out to offer them participation in the financing of gemstones from neighboring countries. But Pablo refused that and Carl agreed.

Inviting Carl to lunch, they usually discussed their projects, mostly smaller alterations and additions to existing properties. However, lately an entrepreneur had introduced Dr. Noah and his wife to them. Pablo designed a well thought out extension to a modern residence and the Noah’s, both doctors, liked it. However, as Pablo’s design had been placed to three building companies for tender, the recommended tender of the entrepreneur lost the contract, as Dr. Noah intended to take the lowest price of a builder, well known to Carl. That was where Carl and Pablo met the dusky tall foreman, who was called ‘The Kenyan’.

“Thanks for the invitation”, Carl said as they sat down at a restaurant in Greenside Village, near Pablo’s residence. The Italian food was well cooked and Pablo knew Giorgio well from his numerous business luncheons.

“Sure thing, Carl. It’s my pleasure to have you here in pleasant surroundings at a suburb well known for intellectuals, who were responsible for changes in the social structures.

“Indeed. I recall Mrs. First and her boyfriend.”

“Yes, Mr. Slovo, became her husband.”

“You know your history.” A slightly bitter smile spread over Carl’s face.

“Not really. I tell you as I had been told by my peers. But now to business.” Pablo leaned forward. “What happened on our building site lately?”

“There is little progress at present, but Joe will pull the foreman off the job.”

“Oh the one they call ‘The Kenyan’?”

“Yes.” Carl paused, “let’s order first, should we?” The waiter, a young black man appeared and took their order. Then in a short while he brought glasses and a bottle of Bellingham Riesling, Carl preferred. He filled their glasses. The friends toasted. “Cheers.” The wine tasted fruity and dry. “Just as I like it”, said Carl. “Now to our building site. The Kenyan had been interrogated by police a few times about his whereabouts. Lately he did not pitch and Joe had to fire him. He took his severance money and as he left the police took him in.

“On what charges?” Pablo asked.

“Possession and distributing of drugs.” Carl sighed. “Joe was happy with him and he found that the drug issue is played up by the police, just to throw a spanner into the progress with his work.”

“You mean the politics played are not being reversed?”

“Somehow. But Mrs. Noah was enjoying The Kenyan.” Carl smiled.

“Oh, you mean...?”

“No, I mean nothing, but just what Joe told me at my site inspection.” Carl replied.

“OK, where will always be talk about racial issues…”

“Indeed. This cannelloni are excellent,” Carl’s eyes glowed. He raised his glass. “Cheers!”

“All the best to you Carl. I’m intending to leave as soon as I sell my home.”

“Well,” Carl paused. “I suspected that this was on your cards for some time already.”

“Yes, but I will complete my inspections on House Noah and then arrange for a container.”

“Are you taking your goods with?” Carl’s face was ashen.

“Yes, but only my books and selected furniture.” They finished their meal in silence. Carl stirred. “I will have a party at my place this coming Saturday. Please come, will you?”

“Sure I’ll come. You make the best braai in Joburg.” Carl smiled. “Thanks. It’s always good to have you there! We could watch some Rugby and have a few beers first.” Pablo laughed, his friend Carl would never change his ways.

Finishing lunch, Pablo paid and they left Giorgio’s restaurant to walk to their cars parked outside. “See you Saturday, Carl.” Pablo drove the short distance to his house, fetched his notebook and the site meeting minutes and headed for Rivonia to Dr. Noah’s building site.

The site was accessible from main road and when Pablo passed the Rivonia shopping centre, he recalled the next side road. At this property the Rivonia Trials were once held, where Nelson Mandela and many others were judged with conspiracy to the state and sentenced with imprisonment to Robben Island.

From here the street had a slight descend that became steeper. The entrance to the property with cluster homes had been developed with a mind for secure communal living in the green belt of the northern suburbs of Joburg, close by to a shopping centre.

Pablo stopped his ageing Merc at a side street next to Dr. Noah’s house. The façade of the extension had been completed and the curved roof sat in a pleasant contradiction to the flat roof of the existing residence. Pablo walked to the extension, checked the layout of the bed rooms and the bathrooms. He enjoyed the natural rock boulders that jutted into the space. It was his idea to keep them and integrate them into the living habitat. “They’ll become eventually ‘pet-rocks’ to your children”, he said at the start to Mrs. Noah, who seemed to agree with him on most artistic issues. However Pablo thought of this building extension as special and wished to integrate lit up glass stairs, and a goldfish pond that was visible below a glass passage crossing. However Dr. Noah, although originally intrigued by Pablo’s ideas, opted out of special effects, as soon as Joe, the builder, gave him a costing. Disappointed for Dr. Noah’s deceptive way of handling him, Pablo finished his work after he had a word with Dr. Noah’s wife. He let her know that most of his clients recognized his efforts for excellent design, also lauded by the Stainless Steel Association, but Dr. Noah closed the door to an otherwise excellent result for certainly a price winner for ‘House of the year’. Disappointed, Pablo left.

The 30 minute drive to his home, was uneventful and the roads were filled with trucks and people scurrying home from work, mostly returning home from their work in town. He stopped his car at his garage entrance, opened the pull-up door, and then drove his car inside the garage. Then he left for the main entrance around the corner, as his garage was added on at a later stage and stood proud of the main house, designed in a minimal style. The refurbishing team had completed the painting of the façade and had started to clean up the garden.

Pablo unlocked the security gate and opened the main wooden door. Welcomed by the pleasant atmosphere of the lounge, with a predominantly light colour scheme in muted off white colours, he went through to his kitchen to place some ice cubes into a glass bucket. Then to his library, where he poured himself some Bourbon and placed a few ice cubes into his glass. He sat down in his comfortable couch and took a sip. Then another. He looked at his books and started a mentallysorting out. There was not much time left, once somebody had taken a liking to his property and then having bought it, he certainly wished to move in as soon as possible. That’s understandable. He had been through similar emotions as he bought this place from a woman, who taught English and French at the nearby high school. At that time he was pressed for an immediate decision. He had lost one job and found another one. Although his workplace was a twenty minute drive to the Northern suburbs, he saw a potential to the neglected property. He could refurbish it and make a profit, as this suburb was the only other one of two, where townhouses were built on smaller property sites.

The agent handling the sale had been amazed at his instant decision. Pablo liked the privacy of the property that bordered at one side to a small Anglican chapel with a kindergarten and on the other side to a similar building, with a friendly owner. The sale had been concluded speedily and he could move in within a fortnight. Immediately he began to furnish his studio that had been added separately to the main house. Here he installed his workshop for the current building projects and a separate area for jobs pending approval. He bought a desktop and a printer. The architect’s office, where he had worked for the last five years, let him have a steel cupboard and a filing cabinet, which were to be sold off, as they refurbished parts of their offices as well. He thought, just in case he’ll lose his job, he might be as well prepared for working as an independent architect. His prediction came true and he was taking on his new role, working for himself. He finished his drink and went to his studio, checking on the last site meeting, and setting up the final one.

The newspaper cutting from an article about Juliet Prowse, who grew up in South Africa, reminded him of Ana. Both woman were brilliant persons, talented and loved life and shared the same fate of dying from pancreatic cancer. The worst cancer of all, as Ana told him, when she held her test results in her hand. It hit him hard, but he made her feel as comfortable as possible. Loving her would patch over her rough days ahead, but he still recalls the scene when Ana cried after they had made love. Her tears rolled down his neck and trickled down his body, exciting him and at the same time a feeling with an enormeous sadness came over him.

He finished his work, saved his work and data of all files on external drives, before he would delete all files and put the desktop back to factory settings. But he changed his mind and would take his desktop along, together with the printer. It was impossible to get all these programs at a reasonable rate and he could carry on working again, immediately. He had sorted out his books and the content of his drawers. All would be soon emptied for the company doing sales of office furniture and household goods that would be fetching all his goods in a weeks’ time. These type of work exhausted him more than spending hours at a building site.

There was a message from Jo on his desktop. She cared for him, since he had visited her a year back at her refurbished flat in Athens. She was, besides a first class team mate, also a good pal. He would message her back, so she knew about his progress of packing. “The boxes arrive tomorrow, I am about to have a great week packing my studio, as drawers, planchests, drawing board and tables have to go to the auctioneers. Talk to you later.” He had another Bourbon-on-therocks and went straight to bed.

The auctioneers arrived and took his furniture. At least his studio had been cleared out. Meanwhile he tidied the place up for the weekend shows to potential buyers. Friday he cleaned the kitchen. Carl phoned and came to see him. He lauded Pablo for his excellent refurbishing efforts, as he had followed it over the years, when they worked together.

“You need a break, Pablo.”

“All right, just let me take these two boxes to my car.”

“I’ll help you, leave me one box”, Carl said and helped his friend with the books for sale. They placed the boxes in Pablo’s car boot.

“I have to get them to the library around the corner from the shopping centre.”

“I know it.” Carl said. “Will they take them?”

“Yes, the librarian thought she would, subject that I bring them.”

“OK, good luck!”

“Thanks Carl, I’ll need all I can get.” Pablo locked his garage door and the adjacent main entrance gate. They continued to walk up 12th Street toward the shopping centre. At a smaller scale it reminded of a Cotswold-type setting, the architect wanted to achieve in relationship with the existing Greenside Village setting, designed with the spirit of a truly continental environment.

At the last site meeting at Dr Noah’s the parties had been terse. Dr Noah’s father talked about the strange shoes of Joe, the builder. Pablo disliked the ma’s arrogance. Joe had presented his latest budget update and the increases were due to Dr Noah’s extra wishes for a servant’s room and the wine cellar. Unfortunately the detail treatments for the roof endings to the façade were refuted by Dr Noah. He and Joe had agreed matters behind Pablo’s back. Dr Noah’s wife supported Pablo, but her husband acted forcefully and Pablo was voted out. It was sad to leave a good building site this way, but Pablo could see that Dr Noah would not spend any further fees on site supervision. Obviously his father had to do with that. Disappointed to have been cheated out of taking his approved design to the end, Pablo drove home, without ever looking back as he turned off the exit road.

The final chapter had been written in his book of a South African experience. His friend Carl phoned and invited him for dinner that evening at Rosebank’s Greek restaurant. “It is also to introduce you to a friend, who does my books. She is of Greek origin and you could talk to her about Athens perhaps.”

“Thanks Carl, it’s very thoughtful of you, indeed!”

“All right, do you know where the restaurant is situated?”

“Yes, I know, we had once a drink there.”

“Just be on time, OK?” Carl laughed.

“I will be.”

The drove to Rosebank was a mere 10 minutes. From the indoor parking one arrived on foot at the first floor level of the sympathetic shopping complex. The restaurant was on the same floor as the Italian restaurant and the famous ‘Xclusive-Books’ store.

Pablo entered the dim lit atmosphere of the Greek restaurant and the music already gave it away, creating a celebratory atmosphere. Carl saw Pablo and greeted him. “May I introduce you to my friend Helen? She is of Greek origin.”

“Nice meeting you, Helen”, Pablo shook hands and sat down next to her. Carl raised his glass and all saluted him. “I’m celebrating this get-together as every year. This time a bit earlier as usual, as my friend, Pablo, will leave soon for Europe. He was one of my favourite architects, who was responsible for our last great endeavor with the project Dr Noah, where he chose me as his Engineer. Cheers and good health! Even if we had a bit of an up and down with Dr Noah, I think the design and nearly completed building turned out to be excellent! Congratulations Pablo!”

“Thank you Carl. I am very honored about this dinner. Kindly send me the account as it should be forwarded to the client. Certainly we had there an excellent team and also circumstances were at times quite challenging. All the best to you all! Cheers.” Then the ice had been broken and all chatted freely. The wine flowed. Carl was always an excellent host and working with him together was for any architect, who had the pleasure of knowing him, quite a great experience, as he allowed for his structural ideas to be absorbed and then integrated into the final design by the architect. He cared for architects.

Late at night, with everybody gone, Pablo sat together with Carl and invited him to the nearby bar for a drink. “Let me know how it goes,” he said.

“Sure, I will. I have two weeks more to sit and wait for the selection of potential buyers.”

“Anything you need, let me know.”

“Will do, Carl. See you, latest in two weeks.”

“Let’s have an espresso, before we drive home.” Carl said.

“Good idea to sober up a bit.”

“Yeah, but around here it’s not dangerous. Empty roads and no cops.” Carl laughed.

“Indeed, but better be safe as sorry.”

2.

His mind, during the flight from Joburg via Dubai to Athens, vacillated between the golden times, he had experienced last time and what to expect now. Last time his Muse fired up his imaginative powers. His blood boiled every time when they met during 21 days in love. So were his instant poems, like fire about it.

His doubts that he would dislike the city this time, vanished as soon as the silver bird’s tires touched the tarmac of Athens International airport. He retrieved his luggage and took a cab. As soon as the driver stopped at the given address, he asked him to wait, while he would meet the landlord first. But when he arrived in the lobby, the landlord was not there. He went back to the cab and asked the driver to phone the unreliable man. But instead his son apologized that his dad could only come tomorrow at ten.

Pablo was upset as communicating with the renter of the flat had been cumbersome. However Jo had checked it out for him, so now he had to take accommodation at a nearby hotel for the night. He recalled a middle class hotel close by, where management knew him. Indeed, the owner’s secretary recognized him and she had a room for him. He paid the cabbie and got his luggage up to his room. Having settled in, he went downstairs to the bar and ordered Bourbon. Nina, the barmaid talked to him about the old times with some funny stories about guests, especially a woman from Switzerland, who thought she was on the trail to find ‘Athena’s Gold’, the treasure, she believed was still hidden below the Acropolis. Feeling sleepy, he left for his room.

The next morning, he checked out at 9h30 am and the cab took him to northern Glyfada, where the landlord was already waiting outside. His name was Jack and Pablo asked about his English. He said he had spent many years in Australia, where he made the capital to buy this flat. The burly man took the luggage, wheeled it to the entrance of the building, where he took the two suitcases up to the first floor. Jack told him that he could not come yesterday, due to a family problem. He showed Pablo the flat and explained the handling of the equipment. Pablo made sure the washing machine, shower and hot water worked. The fridge was operative and the TV as well. “OK Jack, all seems to work well.”

“Yes, I checked all myself.”

“Where is the next shopping centre?”

“I’ll take you there, it´s around the corner and a short walk. You’ll see.”

“OK, thanks!” Jack gave Pablo a lift to the corner of the northern end of the Glyfada shopping area and Pablo thanked him, immediately walking to a kiosk and asking the man for a sim card. The friendly man loaded the sim card into Pablo’s cellular phone and he called Jo immediately. “Welcome in Glyfada, Pablo!”

“Thank you.”

“Where are you?” She sounded excited.

“I’m at the shopping complex nearby the Hondos Centre.”

“Oh, Ok. Are you happy with the accommodation?”

“As a temporary place it’s Ok.”

“Let’s meet tomorrow. I will come and fetch you at around 11 am.”

“OK, sure. I’m looking forward to see you.”

“Me too.” Jo hung up.

This position for a temporary stay was not bad at all, considering the rentals here in the posh suburb of Southern Athens, close to the Athenian Riviera, with its central area of Voulagmeni nearby. He would enjoy a stroll through the area he had known only from a quick stay at the Blue Clouds Hotel a year back. Like most people, Jo spoke English, as most of the people living here had higher education and were seasoned travelers, besides the younger crowd spoke English due to having studied or travelled overseas and using the language to communicate with their friends. Many Greeks have relatives in the USA and have at one time travelled there. Returning from his stroll, he felt suddenly famished and opted for the Hondos Centre. He recalled a Café on the top floor, where one had a beautiful panoramic view on the yacht harbor basin of Glyfada. He entered the familiar store, where at ground floor level one was flooded with an oversupply of perfumes, with all the famous brands attracting the local and visiting women, who crowded the areas where special offers were on sale.

At the back of the floor some people gathered around the lifts to the upper floors. The top floor that featured the café and restaurant, could only be reached by walking through the bookstore, stocked with Greek and English books. Lately other books for learning different languages were introduced. Greece had an influx of different language groups from surrounding countries. One could buy paperbacks in Turkish, Russian, in Slavic languages, and even in Chinese.

At the self-service counter the menu of the day was displayed at first, then further on one could choose from different Greek sweets and cakes. Pablo asked the serving girl for a fruitcake and a cup of espresso. He did not fancy Greek coffee, as for the thick grounds. He smiled at the girl and talked to her a bit, as she responded in English and liked his few Greek words he would mix into his talk, showing her that he liked to learn Greek. She gave him an extra thick slice of a delicious almond cake with apricots. “Efharisto”, he thanked her. “Parakalo”, she responded. Of course ‘thank you’ and ‘it’s my pleasure’ are the first words he picked up in Greece visiting his ‘Greek Muse’, his own ‘Greek Muse’, as he believed that every artist and poet had one. He took a seat at the window, where he had been enjoying coffee with Ana. They had been in love and Pablo used to take his unlined notebook from his pocket and sketched Ana’s profile, whenever he had an opportunity to meet her. At one time, as Ana had been curious about his sketches, her hand lunged forward and took his notebook. “That’s not me!” She would exclaim looking at his latest sketch.

“Of course not.” He responded. “It’s not a photographic reproduction of your face. It has your characteristic features, as I see it. Besides…”he paused, “…your innerness shines through.” He smiled at her. Ana had her dusky eyes fixed on his and he felt her fire of passion that radiated into his being. He leaned forward and kissed her. Tenderness had been a constant escort in their unusual and often stormy relationship. Pablo was amazed how his being melted in her presence, when she held his heart in her hands caressing if softly. Ana smiled and Pablo could read her thoughts: Pablo the artist, who had read a lot about the famous poet Rilke, besides his wonderful poetry.

His eyes scanned the yacht basin where numerous yachts were anchored in neat rows. It had been like this for years, as far as he remembered. Of course most well-to-do Greeks afforded a boat and they had a long tradition as seafarers. He recalled what he had read about Onassis and his feeling of freedom that being on a boat had offered him. In the afternoon sun, having turned west, the sea glistened and sparkled like myriads of diamonds. It also changed colour every time a boat went past and the sunrays were caught in its sail. The palm trees, lined up along the street parallel to the beach, moved their fanning leaves in the afternoon breeze.

He stirred. On impulse he rose and headed for the lift. The taste of almonds still remained on his lips. He smiled at a girl who joined him in the glazed lift cabin. At ground floor the wafts of different perfumes felt like a wave of heavenly beauties vying to embrace one. He walked through the small park to the tram station and bought a senior ticket. Athens was indeed socially generous by charging half what other European countries charged for a single ticket. He took his notebook from his pocket and noted down some impressions as he rode to town for the first time since last year. Although the tram ride was about 40 minutes, he enjoyed refreshing his mind about the suburbs it moved through. As the tram took a sharp bend to the left, where the giant columns of the Olympian Zeus became visible, his mobile phone rang. “Hello Jo.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the tram, arriving at Syntagma Square soon.”

“Ah, that’s great. Remember we wanted to meet.”

“Yes. Sure. Come to Plaka and we have dinner at our usual place.”

“Well, let’s see it’s the 7th…”

“Meaning?”

“On uneven days I may drive my car to town.”

“OK. Let’s say we’ll meet in three hours or so. I want to go up to the Acropolis.”

“Aha, yes, your favourite walk?” Jo knew about his Muse, Ana. However, he had not revealed her any details, but told her that she could read up on Ana in his short stories, he had published as eBooks.

“Indeed!”

“We’ll communicate later then, Jo, Ok?” His mind was already on his walk.

“Yes, all right, will do.” Jo hung up.

As the tram stopped at the Olympian Zeus, Pablo decided to step off and take the traditional walk he used to do with Ana, when he had met her. As he walked toward Amalias Street, he looked up to the Acropolis. It appeared to him in the same splendor as he had seen it before, but something of its translucent appearance, which he had experienced when he walked with Ana, had vanished. He walked along Amalias Street and turned at the statue of Melina into Dionysion Areopagitou – the name he had to look up repeatedly to remember its spelling – and then continued past the splendid New Acropolis Museum. He had visited the finest Museum of artefacts from its opening on, many times. The small path, leading up to the Herodes Attikus Theatre, lay to his right. The wooden bench against the natural stone wall was still there. Ana had sat with him here for some time, musing about his fascination with the Acropolis. “I will not go up there today,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It’s too much for me.” He was disappointed, but at least she was here with him.

“OK, well then, let’s find a more secluded place, where I can kiss you more intimately.” Ana sighed, stood up. “Come,” she said and took his hand. She took him to the level of the Herodes Attikus Theatre, a stone throw from the entrance. A cops of smaller trees offered a great place for privacy. He kissed her. She kissed him back. He was aroused and his energy and virility spread over into her. She was aroused and sighed as he touched her. In this intimate embrace she could climax, while he still had an erection. It was sweet and he was gentle with her. He wanted her and she wanted him. It had started to drizzle. They stopped arranged their clothes and felt like two young lovers in their student days. They laughed and Ana took his hand. “Come”. He looked up as they emerged from behind the trees. The gable of the Parthenon temple was visible from this spot. “Beautiful”, he said and she shared his emotion.

Ana seemed to hurry down the sloping path toward Anafiotika. Before the suburb started, she stopped. Athens lay below them. An agglomeration of white cubes and shapes, reminding him of pebbles at a beach. At a small chapel they stopped. She tried the door. It was open. Inside an elderly woman dressed in black garb prayed at an icon of the Madonna and child. Ana looked up into the small delightful cupola. Pablo was immersed into his love with her that met her thoughts and raised their hearts toward the cupola’s painted heaven. He felt that Ana had thoughts about their union, which she wished to have activated here, in this petite chapel at the foot of the Acropolis. As if she would wish they were to be together for life. Then they left, happy, cleansed from negative events, looking ahead at a great future together. Poet and poet, as she said. Artist and artist, he concluded.

For three years he would walk this path, sacred to them. But at his last visit, Ana had been behaving differently, almost rejecting him. Their meeting was shorter, as she demanded more privacy and time to look after her family, she said, she had neglected badly through the years with Pablo’s overpowering presence. It seemed that she thought or felt that Pablo wanted to possess her and subjugate her to be his sex slave. Not at all, Pablo never had such intentions. He admired her poetry, loved to share with her their common interests in poetry and literature and have great fruitful discussions with her about the Nobel Laureates in Poetry. She took Pablo by his hand and Pablo took it and embraced her being, devouring her physically and melting passionately in her soul. Did she not feel it? Surely she felt it as she responded with similar passionate lovemaking. But then how come she had changed suddenly?

Pablo received her answers the last time he saw her in Athens. She had encouraged him to stay at her retreat at the seaside and write and draw. It was a creative time for Pablo and Ana enjoyed the poetry he wrote for her. Love poetry, Pablo considered as his best work. But Ana was ill and she suffered. Pablo experienced the feeling of being thrown into an abyss of endless pain and the revocation of their physical sweet togetherness. She had been – as his other half – suddenly cut off from him, a grown together twin separated by a surgeon’s scalpel and she was the sacrifice for him to live. That time as he had to fly back to Joburg, he felt like a ton of bricks had hit him.

It was September and when he received the message from her daughter that she had died. It hit him so hard that he cried and sobbed as if that part of his life had been taken from him that had meant the world. His emotions overpowered him again as he walked down to the Aerides monument. He turned right and walked toward that part of Plaka, where the small Café, Pizzeria and restaurant was situated, he had chosen for his haunt, when in Athens.

He stopped a few times as he came along the slightly winding Adrianou Street, which had not changed its natural flow since antiquity. Having caught his breath, he turned into Kidathineon Street, he knew by hard, as he passed Brettos, the colourful lit up cocktail bar. Passing the ice cream shop of a friendly Greek-American, who talked about life in Plaka, he turned right into Farnaki Street. The Trattoria, he visited many times, was at the end of the street, adjoining the Filomousou Eterias Square. His cellphone rang.

“Hallo Jo. Where are you?”

“I’m at Brettos.”

“Yes come further to the café at the corner, then turn right into Farnaki. I’m at the corner and will wait for you.”

“Ok.” Pablo waited at the café viewing the menu, exhibited on a lectern outside, as was tradition here in Plaka. He saw Jo coming. She had a peculiar walk due to only one useful leg. But she managed well. He waved his hands, she waved back. He took her into his arms and kissed her. “This is a great place, Pablo, and I was lucky to find parking not far from here.”

“Great, let’s go to the Trattoria, it’s down there, see?”

“Yes, it looks like a real Greek tavern.”

“It’s rather special, as they cook Greek and Italian dishes. You’ll see.”

Takis, the short waiter walking upright, leaning back slightly, saw Pablo approaching and greeted him. He introduced Jo. They shook hands and exchanged some Greek niceties. Spiros the waiter, who walked stooped, brought bread and wine. Pablo’s comments about the waiters made Jo laugh. The ice was broken. They kissed.

The food was great. Carpathian goat and roast potatoes with veggies. More wine flowed. “I did not know how well you knew Athens”, Jo said and watched her wine intake, as she had still to drive back. “Well, I like Greece and its culinary culture as well, besides its sites of antiquity.” Pablo laughed. After their delicious meal Takis served a complimentary chaser. “Raki”, his eyes glowed. It was his favourite drink from Crete.

Pablo helped Jo walking back to her car. I think I’ll take you to your flat first”, Jo said as she arrived at the outskirts of Glyfada. “OK, thanks Jo. Come up and I make you a cup of coffee.”