The birth place of Zeus
Last day. We went up to see the Psychro Cave, where Zeus was born. Beloved’s choice. And a good one. He said the best day of all. A huge cave full of dripping dry wax-like shapes, movement stuck forever in flows of streams, slow, stopped shapes piling out of the dark walls, falling, bulging and yet motionless. Like the inside of our body it oozed and glooped. A fitting place for the birth of a God.
Going up I was alarmed by Beloved. He struggled to walk not ten minutes up the steep hill to the cave. He was panting, sweating, heaving. I thought he might have a heart attack. We stopped often. Poor man. I had no idea he couldn’t walk, just that he wouldn’t. And he won’t hold my hand because it is not comfortable for him. His gait is completely out because of his limp. My man grows old, and I with him.