No Man Is An Island
My decision to visit Greece was totally and completely motivated by the fact that for twenty-one days in the British Isles I endured that passive-aggressive, constant and persistent drizzle that resembles a sneeze in substance; and because of it, I have acquired a cough that not even the warmth and hospitality of all the kind Scottish and English hosts I have been staying with can clear away. So I decide to leave one island for another--a warm one, with a beach you can swim in without fear of hypothermia. That, and the cost of airfare are the only criteria for my decision to spend five days in Kos, a small island of Greece. In my cold-infused haze I have no recall having seen Kos in the newspapers not even a year earlier--I have not yet put two and two together as to why tickets are so inexpensive. In fact, it isn't until I already am in Kos, perched precariously on the edge of my budget hotel bed facing the patio door, catching the
