Victoria Mascord — Byzantine Citadel

The Citadel fills the senses. Aromas of sun-warmed wild sage and oregano are carried by cool wafts of breeze stirring lipstick red poppies on delicate stems and sending waves through whiskery heads of grainy growth. Here in the ancient heights of a place deserted of human habitation the bark of dogs and crowing of roosters rises on updrafts from the valley below where creamy, yellow-hued cubes and rectangles of contemporary civilisation spread like a mosaic. On the mountain terraces, tiny terracotta-tiled chapels display faded frescoes on whitewashed walls of ancient limestone and the simple black lines of a crucifix is starkly juxtaposed against a sanctuary entrance. Gentle tolling of church bells announces a circling flock of blackish-brown birds that dissipate into the distance, perhaps guiding the soul of a recently deceased being to move heavenwards through the cumulonimbus cloud roiling in from the east. On a distant ridge a white cross rises symbolically, presiding over the valley leading to a visible wedge of the Aegean Sea. With the senses alive a beautiful transcendence is realised.