MORNING SERIAL
SHE turned again and pointed east, out over the vast unmade bed of mountains and, it seemed, out to the sprawling flatlands of Cyprus that disappeared into a pattern of miniscule patchworks. The view went further than my eyes could see.
“You can see Napa,” Lou said, pointing.
I squinted. “Where?”
“See the sea?” She pointed with a little extra verve. “Right out there.”
“Sure.” I thought perhaps I could see some darkening at the furthest reaches.
“And inland there you can see the island go to the north,” Lou said. “Have you ever seen such a view?”
“The air is thin up here,” I said.
“Feeling a bit light-headed?” Lou ribbed. She wrapped her arms around my arm and held close to me. She wore a warm, free smile. “I love it up here,” she said. “Down there it’s a crazy island, but from up here it’s immortal, isn’t it?”
There were others at the peak: sightseers, tourists, as well as the guards over the way at the complex. A young couple took photographs of each other in turn with their backs to the view. Another couple with a young boy tucked into packed sandwiches handed out by the mother from a picnic box placed on the bonnet of their car. But it was quiet, not shut-down quiet, but wideopen quiet, as if all the smallest noises of the world, like men speaking and car engines revving, had been sucked up into the glorious eternal vastness of the world. From up there the island seemed to breathe like a sleeping giant in the sun.
“Can you see the wall?” Lou said. She was pointing into the blindness of extreme distance once again, out past the dark shade she had assured me was Ayia Napa. I could see nothing but the fading haze of the island.
“What wall am I looking for?” I said, squinting once again.
“The demarcation zone,” she said.
I did not know what she was referring to.
> The Golden Orphans by Gary Raymond is published by Parthian www.parthianbooks.com
CONTINUES MONDAY