The villas in the mountains, so beautifully located. An L shape has been cut straight into the hill, and is filled by three homes in sleek shapes, whitewashed walls, locally sourced stones and greenery growing on the roofs. It keeps the heat out, and blends into the landscape in a standout manner. Three levels of luxury, lit in the night. The swimming pools are Greek blue, the drives are beach pale. It’s a sight at sea, and a sight to see.
In the dark of the night I can’t stop looking at them, hoping that one day I’ll be there drinking coffee on the terrace, swimming in the pool, sleeping in the beds of silk and Egyptian cotton, drinking cocktails in the hammocks and doing yoga on the lawns.
But then I wonder if the villas aren’t more enjoyable from down here. They can’t see their own light and beauty, only the bustle and busyness of us in the bay. Perhaps we are also beautiful?
Then in the day, the view is different. The unforgiving sun reveal the extent of the properties, and I think whoever lives there probably don’t look down to us. More likely, all they see is their own light, and not the cut-down trees and dynamited mountain and foreign labour that made way for their way of life. They know they shine, but not what lives in the shadows.