Ode to Grapes

Autumn is here and the last sweet green grapes appear in the farmer’s market. It's still quite hot here in Athens. Too hot I would say...

I’m sitting on my red sofa, wrapped in my light blue blanket with a wooden bowl of bright green grapes next to me. These emerald stones shine, having different shapes and sizes, round and oval, big and small, as the water drops on them reflect the Athenian afternoon sun.

I reach for the bowl; I sink my hand in it, feeling the grape’s cold, unwrinkled skin like a cool woolen blanket, knitted with thick knots; rough and comforting at the same time. When I put my hand in, they make no sound at all, like pebbles under the water in the sea. They are just waiting for me to savor them.

I bring a few grapes closer to my nose; they smell like a rainy afternoon in a vineyard. But do they really smell like this? Or is it me who wishes so much to be there? I put this fruity caviar in my mouth. The grapes explode. They pop like expensive fish eggs, but instead of that intense salty, sea taste, my mouth fills with a sweetness I was longing for all summer. I carry on tasting them, one at a time. Sweet explosions, sometimes with a light sourness, they satisfy my taste buds and make this autumn afternoon feel like summer…