I sleep with my head on my red pillow and the wind in my hair. Greek heat lasts all through the night and so the breeze is welcomed. Unlike my homeland where creepy crawly bugs fly, climb or jump their way indoors, here they know their boundaries, so it’s with an open breezy door that I sleep. My red striped curtain blows in, it blows out. Randomly through the night the Thessaloniki traffic below my many-storied apartment has a drive by and the sound comes in and out like the breeze comes in, it blows out. There’s the black dog with frizzy greying hair that barks when the day breaks and carries on till the sun has risen. He stays guarding the street and stares firm at us when we unlock our car with a click-click at 8.40am. It’s the light I enjoy when I’ve come home from a full day and I sit on my bed and the light is still light, and it stays that way for another four hours. It’s light again way before it’s time to wake up with an alarm, and I float in, I float out just as the breeze does.