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It's All Greek to Me

By Sherlock, Columbia, SC

I listened, in serenity, at the sound the water made as it lapped at the shores of smooth, worn rocks. I walked to the edge of the sky blue and pure white balcony and looked down. The clearest, bluest water you could ever see was right below me. It made the sound of peace, wrapped in the elegance and beauty of the city on the cliff. I walked up the cobble stone stairs on my right, and found myself in a town full of people who spoke a different language. People with so much culture that it seemed pointless to compare them to the people I'd known my whole life. Business was booming since the two daily cruise ships docked in the harbor, the harbor that seemed to be right below you, and yet the same peace, tranquility, and lull of the town would never leave. The pathways I traveled soon relinquished themselves to olive trees and tall, wispy grass. A breeze, cool and fresh, rippled through the pure life that surrounded me. I ate olives, feta cheese, and tomatoes of the reddest hue that day.

And it was all Greek to me.

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