Gypsy’s words hit soldier like salt spray:

“Ash mist descends on Cyclades,

Surrounds mysterious tableau;

Oblique winds rage, deep waters roll,

New soul joins ranks of entities

Gone missing centuries ago."

Superstitious ramblings in seafaring towns rarely faze sailor but he wonders how old gypsy had guessed his intention of visiting remote Cyclades. Within space of one minute sailor ponders change in travel plans, abandons notion, scoffs at self for giving any credence to strange prophecy. Off in distanc... Show more