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Just Who's Listening And Who's Watching? Gournes (Γούρνες, Κρήτη) Crete.
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Just Who's Listening And Who's Watching? Gournes (Γούρνες, Κρήτη) Crete.

19-12-2007 · Comments (16)
Categories: Crete  Holga  Ilford XP2  

I need to do some Christmas shopping, obviously I am running out of days! It's not like I have that much to worry about as I only have to shop for Jan...the rest has been done for me. I think I will probably attack it tomorrow or Thursday afternoon. Have works meal on Friday so will need to concentrate on eating and drinking and there really is no way I am going near the shops on Saturday or Monday...NO WAY! It will be a hell hole...having said that, there may be a few bargains I guess....MMmmm...pondering!
Well, back to a normal 4 hour day today which was nice. Having said that there is still enough work there to keep me going for a week. Still, I guess it will be still there tomorrow for me to crack into. I have to say I'm enjoying the dry, cold weather. I function far better in the dry so cold is fine...just so long as it's dry. Dry and sunny would be rather nice over the holiday....perhaps I'll dial in one of those Santa requests! Speaking of which, I got on the bus this morning to find about 6 people sat there in the morning rush dressed in the full Santa suit...beard and all! A few mums got on with small kids and you could see the confusion in their poor eyes. I'm assuming there were a few questions at some stage.

OK, yet another from the extremely secret old American base in Gournes (Γούρνες, Κρήτη) Crete. Not sure if there are others, perhaps one more if you can bear it? These seem to be the remainder of a transmitting or listening station, possibly both. I had taken a few others when I saw the plane coming so thought it would be good to slip it in! Anyway here is an aerial view. You can clearly see the masts in the centre of the photo and the remainder of the base surrounding it.

Procession moves on, the shouting is over,
Praise to the glory of loved ones now gone.
Talking aloud as they sit round their tables,
Scattering flowers washed down by the rain.
Stood by the gate at the foot of the garden,
Watching them pass like clouds in the sky,
Try to cry out in the heat of the moment,
Possessed by a fury that burns from inside.

Cry like a child, though these years make me older,
With children my time is so wastefully spent,
A burden to keep, though their inner communion,
Accept like a curse an unlucky deal.
Played by the gate at the foot of the garden,
My view stretches out from the fence to the wall,
No words could explain, no actions determine,
Just watching the trees and the leaves as they fall.

Listening to: "Eternal" (Closer) - Joy Division

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