On The Edge Of Paradise

“Shut your eyes,” beseeched he, with a spectacular grin plastered animatedly and mischievously across his phizog, which, in spite of the oppressive summer sun—its offending, torrid rays teasing every surface of my exposed skin—delivered shivers down my spine in waves, “and do not peep!”

The next few minutes ticked away in the following fashion: The Greek greengrocer, who had at first met me with another contagious beam just as I had scarcely allowed my closed eyelids to obscure the picturesque Mykonos beach, dazzling waters, azure sky as clean as a whistle, and tourists and travellers clad in the manifold bathing suits lightsomely talking the hind leg off a donkey whilst sipping at their cocktails, produced a strawberry drenched and saturated with chocolate for my consumption.

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