It has been cooler the past few nights. The third full moon has passed, since we arrived. For the first time in a long time there have been clouds in the sky. The Meltemis have been blowing up a gale outside, whipping signs from restaurants and sunbeds from the sand. The season, it feels, and I can’t put my finger on why, has hit a point; and now, it is slowly beginning its descent. In about five days time, peak season will roll to a close and the island will start to empty out. Restaurant and bar owners, many of whom haven’t had a day off since March, will allow themselves to contemplate relaxation.

This island has been my book-ends. Last year’s summer marked the beginning of my travels and this year’s summer marks, whilst not the end, a conclusion that forces the contemplation of what’s next (a scary contemplation indeed). I left home 13 months ago, planning on teaching English in Germany for a year and travelling when I could. I’ve done that. So, what now?

Thinking, thinking.

What I do know, is that in a month, I’ll be back in Germany, far from the ocean and the sand. I’ll be in boots, my thongs kicked under the bed and the only fresh tzatziki I’ll be eating will be my own (which is, frankly, heavy on the garlic). So I’m going to enjoy every swim, every night spent kicking the sheet off when it gets too hot. Every moment spent bare-foot. Every mouthful of island wine.

I’m still here, I promise. I’m just thinking.