Happy Birthday Papauli!

Happy Birthday to my much loved grandfather.. Theodore Haralambos Catsoulis, born 21st June 1878, in Potamos, Kythera.

I MISS HIM STILL…

and always will.. Papauli (grandfather) was the youngest of five children born to Maria Fardouly and Haralambos Catsoulis.. He was born on the 21st June 1878 in Potamos, Kythera, Greece.  

His siblings were Eleni, Panagiotitsa (brother), Stavroula (sister) and George c 1873.. as written in one of his many notebooks that were given to my Dad. 

You can read more about his courtship of the girl who had his heart in BEAUTIFUL EYES. He told his very inquisitive granddaughter the story, over and over, always saying that she had beautiful eyes. They married in Potamos .. two services were held.The engagement service for 25 year old Theodoros and Chrisanthi K. Koroneos was in the Holy Virgin Church of Potamos on Thursday, April (no date) 1904. Chrisanthi was never registered. The second service was on a Wednesday at 2.00pm, no actual date, just April 1904, in the same church, with two witnesses..*

Papauli left his young bride behind when he left Greece to come to Australia to make his way. 

He embarked at Port Said with a number of other Greek immigrants, landing at Fremantle, Western Australia in 1904. This was researched for me and verified by James Butterfield, an archivist at the National Archives, Australia in Perth. sent to me in December 2006. I haven’t found a record of Chrisanthi’s voyage, but as was the way then, she would most likely have come as a companion to another family. Their first child wasn’t born till 1910, so I very much doubt that she arrived before October 1909/1910. It must have been very hard for them, particularly Nona, when they first came out as she didn’t speak English. They’d left their large families behind but did befriend other Greeks who formed part of a large wave of immigrants in the early 1900’s. 

Other stories .. ONE SMALL SUITCASE..     BUSH SYMPHONY

* I have a copy of their marriage entry. 

© Crissouli 21 Jun 2021

Ninety Five Years Have Passed…

… since my wonderful Dad, their last born child, was gifted to Theo and Chrisanthe, welcomed into the family in their home at Aberdeen, NSW.

All the siblings, all 10 of them, had been born in their home at the time. Five of his siblings had been born at Aberdeen, though sadly one had passed at just thirteen months old.

Today, you would have been 95 years young. Happy 95th Birthday… I’m so sorry you aren’t here to share it with us.. we miss your shy smile.. the delighted look on your face whenever family or friends came to visit. We miss your warm hugs and or welcoming hand shakes ..and of course, we miss that ever ready cup of tea.

The last birthday we celebrated with you was your 91st… you were a little puzzled by that.

You kept asking me how old you were, you couldn’t quite believe that you were that age.

 

 

You always had a sweet tooth, and thoroughly enjoyed a small slice of your birthday cake which followed fish and chips. Not that you ate much that day, or many others following that. After fighting so many illnesses over the previous few years, you quietly left us just over a month later on the 18th of October, surrounded by family.

 

Dad, we could never thank you enough, not just for the years of hard work to support your family, not just for the practical help you gave all in need, not just for the advice you wisely shared, though it sometimes took us some time to realise it was wise, but for so much more… your sense of humour, your personal standards which you set so high, your willingless to put aside your own needs when others could do with a hand, but most of all, for teaching us the vaue of family and friends.

Today, we will remember you even more so than on all the other days… we know you are watching over us as promised…please give Mum a big hug from me also…and I do hope there is chocolate cake in Heaven.

©Crissouli 12 September 2018

Photos ©Crissouli

LETTER TO MY FATHER

Hi Dad,

I know it’s Father’s Day, and I can hear you saying that you don’t want any gifts… that you have everything you need. However, I thought you might want an update on how the gifts you gave us have been passed on.

 You gave us the gifts of love and caring, of looking out for each other, whether known or strangers… You taught us to be generous in kind and spirit… something we do have to remind ourselves about now and then. However, even when we do lose our way at times, we only have to think of how you and Mum led your lives and it seems to help.

The last Father’s Day we shared was in 2014…you were a little puzzled by the fuss, but then, you weren’t one for fuss, at least when it was around you. Your family has grown some since then…your first born grandson now has a beautiful wife… one of my favourite photos is of him and you on your bed, while he showed you some photos of his special lady via his phone. You were right Dad, he did marry her as you thought he should…you told me that you loved the look in his eyes as he described her to you. I know you would love her and would love to see how happy they are. 

Your second grandson now has three wonderful boys to look after… and your third grandson is happily working and making his own way in life. Your first born granddaughter’s family are no longer the young children you knew, but young adults or close enough. You would be so proud of them and their parents. Your second born granddaughter is a happy, family orientated young lady…

As for your children and partners, we’re all healthy and happy, but miss you as much as ever…as do many others who loved you. Knowing you and Mum are together again is what keeps us going… we had such great parents to look up to.

So, Happy Father’s Day, Dad.. and thank you for a life well lived.

Love always, me xxx

 ©Crissouli 2nd September, 2018

Image©Crissouli 2006

Memories wrapped in love…

  On the 29th July, 1996, it was with great sadness that we learnt of Aunt Heather’s passing … here we are, 22 years later, and our all our happy memories remain wrapped with love. My last time with her was when I drove her to the airport so she could go to Melbourne to visit her much loved family. It was a strange time, different to all the other times I’d done the same.

Firstly, she asked that my husband meet us in a coffee shop for morning tea… before we left. I said she could stay with us the night before, so that would give us plenty of time… she’d stayed with us more and more over the last year. She was not just my Aunt, but a dear friend, with both of us, as she had been with my mother. However, she insisted that we went out for morning tea, her treat. All went well, lots of chat, but not  so much laughter as there usually was.

When we got to the airport, she was insistent that I didn’t stay with her as I normally would, rather just drop and go. It had never bothered her before, but she was getting quite upset, so I agreed. I was worried about her as she’d not long come out of hospital after an operation, though she didn’t seem to be ill, just very quiet.

I wasn’t to know that that would be the last time I saw her… a little while after she passed, I wrote the following…

FAREWELL, AUNT HEATHER

How do I write a farewell to our much loved friend and Aunt

Do I talk about the many years of companionship we’ve shared

or each other’s troubles we’ve tried to share and lighten..

As I recall the warmth and hospitality, always given without a second thought..

or the understanding phone calls  “just to see if you’re ok”

perhaps the shared recipes, Aunt’s famous apple pies..

the helping hand with sick children

or just the offer of a few hours to take a break.

All of these things and many more..

and yet, none of us were prepared to say goodbye.

Rest in peace, dear Aunt and thank you for sharing our lives.

©Crissouli August 1996

Image: Heather, with her father, Tom

 

NEVER REALLY GOODBYE…

Three years have passed since we said Goodbye..
Did you hear us, Dad?
Did you know that it would be for the very last time..
You did react when I held your hand and told you that it was ok,
Mum was waiting for you.
You also reacted when I thanked you, yet again,
for all you did for us, for the love you showed and the guidance you gave us.
We were with you on your last journey..at least for as long as we could be..
just as we had been with you as your mind played tricks on you
and you forgot us at times. That was ok, we understood ..
and we never forgot you.

You have been our rock, our comfort,
and yes, at times, our disciplinarian..
We are who we are because of the love and caring
both you and Mum showed us always, in good times and bad.
We try not to shed tears as we delve into memories..
and can’t help laughing as we ‘see’ you beneath the mango tree
firing an air rifle at flying foxes feasting above.
We smile when we remember you stopping near a road sign,
staying for what seemed like ages
as two excited children waited for our watch..
after all, that’s what the sign said ‘Watch for Children’.
I still have the shivers when I recall diving deep into my bed,
screaming with fright, as you chased me with a live mud crab.. then calling me out some time later, saying it was all gone.. and presenting me with the crab, now bright orange, fully cooked.

I remember telling Mum, in as serious a tone as a five year old could muster,
that when she was finished with you, I was going to marry you when I grew up!
High praise indeed from a little girl who adored her tall handsome Dad,
especially when he played the guitar as Mum and I sang..well, ok, mostly Mum, she had a far better voice than I did.
I loved to sing with her though…and she taught me the words of so many songs.
Memories tumble by, one after the other and I find myself smiling often..
at the hospitality and generosity that came from you both..
at the willingness to drop everything at a moment’s notice to help someone in need, whether near or far.
Nothing was ever too much trouble..you expected nothing in return.
That wasn’t your way..

©  Crissouli 1959

You welcomed our friends and their friends and treated all like family..
then when our family grew, you were so happy and so proud…
You delighted in grandchildren and then the great grandchildren,
that Mum longed for, but never got to see…how you would love seeing them all grow.
Ninety one years .. and yet that wasn’t enough. We had more love to share..
more memories to create, more stories to tell..
We do our best to honour your memory, to be the people you wanted us to be..
So, never really goodbye, but rather, just for now..
You will live on in all that is good in those for whom you paved the way.

© Crissouli 18th October, 2017

 

© Crissouli 2013

Last photo taken… Dad’s 91st birthday, at the nursing home. How he loved the birds..

 

 

Second Blogiversary!

Just to make it easier, I have included a list of posts on my contact page…

Thank you to all who either follow or just pop in from time to time. I hope you’ll stay with me as I gather the memories of my family around me…

 

Top and bottom images courtesy of Pixabay

Love, Laughter and Apple Pies..

Twenty one years ago today, I received the dreaded news… my beloved Aunt Heather had passed away of cancer. I grieved so much, not just for her passing, but because I wasn’t able to be with her and her children at that time. Her children were grown up, her daughter with a family of her own, but my cousins and I have always been very close, as were my mother and my Aunt.. It was, and is, as if we were an extension of the one family.

Heather Crombie was born in Tamworth, NSW, on the 7th July, 1930, to Thomas Crombie and Juliet McQueen. She was their third child of four .. and the only daughter. She was very proud of her Scottish roots, her father having been born in Aberdeen, Scotland… her mother was born in St. Pancras, London. Heather and my mother, Peg (Margaret) met as girls in Dorrigo and went on to marry brothers, George and Vince Catsoulis.

Heather with her father

This was a relationship and friendship that was to last all their lives… no matter where they were living.

It wasn’t till the 1960’s that they were all living in the one city again. Heather and George had three children, sadly the first daughter died at birth.

They went on to have a daughter, Kris and a son, John. Kris was my youngest bridesmaid, John is my godson, so the ties are still there in so many ways. 

John’s christening, Aunt Heather with baby John. Peg and Vince Catsoulis behind her and Uncle George to the left.

Heather became a widow in 1971, Uncle George passed the night before we brought our son home. He had been so excited that we were to have our first child. It broke my heart that he never got to meet him. I will always remember Aunt’s bravery and determination to do whatever she could to raise her still young children to have the best life she could possibly give them. She took on any and every job she could and devoted her life to their welfare, always smiling and always so welcoming. She was so proud that they both went to University and that they were making their own way in life. Her joy as they graduated, then when her daughter married and presented her with her first grandson was overwhelming…

When my own mother died in 1982, Heather grieved as if she were her sister, rather than sister in law.. I remember her coming up to me at the wake at my parent’s house and giving me the biggest hug and telling me that though she couldn’t replace my mother, she would always be there for me… and she was. We became even closer, if that was possible… I did have to laugh at times when she would talk about when we were girls in the depression years and I’d have to remind her that it was Mum, not me.

My memories bubble over with visions of picnics and long drives, of numerous family occasions, of the wonderful roast dinners, and apple pies, oh, those famous apple pies…never forgotten.

Memories of Aunt Heather and my husband spending hours here watching old movies. They didn’t care if they already knew the scripts off by heart, that only added to their fun. She loved the music of the 1940’s, she loved to garden, and to cook, she loved sewing and bingo.. and any outings that included family and/or friends.  Her love of children was known to all and she would often stop a mother with a pram to admire the baby. Earlier memories of us all as we joined in cake decorating classes, spending as much time laughing as we did icing, are never far from the surface.

There is so much more to Aunt Heather, but today the tears flow, making it hard to focus, so I will leave that for another day. Rest in peace, Aunt, knowing that 21 years on, you are still so fondly remembered.

©Crissouli 29th July, 2017

© all photos belong to the Catsoulis family

 

IF I SAY IT QUICKLY…

If I say it quickly, it doesn’t feel like 35 years…but, as hard as it is to believe, it is…35 years since I kissed and held you for the very last time.  The last words you spoke to me were “Thank you, Petal..”

 

Of course, I cried, as I am now… at the memory of losing you. I’d been praying that some miracle would happen and you would be able to stay, just a little longer, but as I sat by your bed, holding your hand, I could feel you leaving me, bit by bit. I was selfish enough to want you to see your grandchildren grow up.. there were three then, now there are five. I wanted you to fulfill your dream of having great grandchildren…

How they would have loved you, your kindness and gentleness, your selflessness, your generosity, your wonderful imagination… your insistence that we always had a fairy tree… as I do also. You have three great grandchildren, one step great grandchild and another great grandchild to be in a few months time. Of course, you just never know, there may be more to come… though I’m sure you know more about that than I do. As for great nieces and nephews, I haven’t even tried to count, let’s just say there are a lot of us..

You’d be so proud of your evergrowing family, they are good people.. and now Dad is with you, I’m sure you are both smiling down at us. Just as you said so many years ago, siblings and cousins are now the generations of the present and the future, sadly some are also of the past, but that is the way it has always been. We do our best to uphold your values and are always grateful for all you sacrificed for us. It’s only now that we have really come to know, or think we do, just how much that was.

It is so strange to realise that I have now had longer without you than with you.. but only your physical presence, as there isn’t a day that goes by, that I don’t think of you or remember something you did or said.

You had been sleeping for so long and my tears flowed freely as your breath became more laboured. You struggled so hard to stay, I knew I had to let you go. “Please Lord, if there is no way she can stay, please let her be at peace with you Lord..” You opened your eyes, just for a moment and smiled.. somehow you knew my silent prayer.

“Thank you, Petal..” and you quietly left us.

©Crissouli June 27, 2017 Story and photos

FOLLOWING THE TRAIL AT EASTER..

The early mornings were often a little frosty, but that couldn’t stop two excited children from rushing outside to follow the trail. We never questioned why it always started out near the back garden, then went through the gate, past the chook pen and up the hill through the bushes, then looped back again.

Over it went, near the tank stand, then around to the front yard, under the nasturtiums and then back around and into the back door. How come we never noticed that when we ran out the back door?

Seems we had one messy Easter Bunny, shredded paper everywhere and just a few chocolate freckles or mini eggs if we were realy lucky.. and one or two chocolate eggs were left.

Most times, we also got a fluffy little yellow chicken.

We loved the eggs that rattled and were never disappointed whether they contained a few small lollies or, on rare occasions, a tiny toy. Some years, we would get a sugar egg from our Aunt Mary. They were so pretty and fancy and always contained something, usually a few conversation lollies. Dad would eat the ‘egg’, after I ate all the decorations off first. I didn’t really like sugar eggs to eat. My brother loved chocolate eggs and I was always careful to keep count of mine, just in case.

A few days before Easter, we would wait patiently while Mum hard boiled some eggs, and while they were still warm, we would draw patterns on them with a wax candle.

Then Mum would dye them  with food colourings,
especially cochineal. Once they dried, we would wipe off the wax and pretty patterns would appear. This is how we hoped they would look…

but more often, they looked more like these,
only with more colours…

The excitement of Easter continued as we would all go out to my grandmother’s for a big family gathering. Lunch was always roast chickens and roast vegetables, sometimes a lamb roast as well. I liked the smell of the garlic and rosemary on the lamb, but I’ve never been too fond of eating it. The centrepiece of the table was Tsourekia (Greek Easter bread), plaited with hard boiled red coloured eggs baked in. Dessert was often fruit pie and baked custard.

Image courtesy of Taste

Surprisingly, after the cleanup and perhaps a short rest for some of the adults, out would come baklava and koulourakia, fragrant preserved figs in their rich cinnamon and honey syrup and rich aromatic Greek coffee, in Nona’s special occasion tiny coffee cups.

It was only then that our Aunts and Uncles might produce some Easter eggs for us children, ‘if we’d been good’. They were very forgiving or we’d always been very good it seemed.

There was much laughter throughout the day and plenty of chatter.

Familes and Easter – they will always sit happily side by side in my memories.

(c)Crissouli  Easter Saturday April 15, 2017

Unlabelled images courtesy of Pixabay.

HAPPY 105TH BIRTHDAY, AUNT MARY!

How we miss you, Aunt Mary.. and your selfless caring for all the family, especially your mother.

I miss our long chats, our laughter, and the walking out to Nona’s, sometimes picking wildflowers along the way. I loved calling in to your place after school, even for piano practice.

The hardest part of leaving my home town was leaving you, something I know my parents felt as well. You were my confidante, my go between when I was a teenager railing against my Dad’s strict rules. It was you who taught me to cook all manner of things, and to crochet… wish I’d had more lessons for that.

It was you who stayed with my Dad and younger brother, dropping everything to come interstate to look after your youngest sibling when my mother died. You made sure they ate and rested, the little they could, when all around them was turned upside down.

I know I thanked you for all over time, but it would never be enough. Much love to you, Aunt, I am so grateful that you were with us for as long as you were.

Image ©crissouli 1985

TALL, DARK AND SMILING…

David Catsoulis was born on 10th October, 1917, at home, in Aberdeen, NSW. He was the 6th child and 4th son to Theodore Haralambos Catsoulis and ( Chrisanthe ), both from Potamos, Kythera, Greece. The family moved to Urunga in 1927. Dave, by then a 10 year old, was known to love fishing with his father and siblings. It was very convenient that their property was just across the road from what was then called a lake, now a lagoon. I have also been told that he was a crack shot with an air rifle, adding the occasional duck or rabbit to the family dinner table.

As with most farming families, the boys helped with many chores around the farm, learning the value of planting to the seasons at a very young age.

My memories of my Uncle Dave are of a kind and generous and very tall man, like my father, with a ready smile. One time that always comes to mind is of him being at my Mother’s 21st, how we all crowded into that tiny place, I’ve no idea. As young as I was, I can ‘see’ him coming in the door with a huge smile and a large bunch of flowers. Strangely enough, they were very much like the flowers my grandmother had in her garden.

It was Uncle Dave who always managed to drop the last watermelon when we were all at the farm loading them. Of course, there was no sense in wasting it. He was also the Uncle who sometimes had a couple of small white paper bags filled with lollies in his pocket for two very appreciative young children, a rare treat. As much as I loved seeing him then, a few years earlier I wasn’t too keen, when he and my grandfather decided it would be a good idea to pierce my ears. My horrified screams brought my Mother running, just as they were heating the needle. It would have been their ears burning for some time after my Mum had finished with them.

When we first moved interstate, we stayed with Uncle Dave and Uncle Harry, who were then running the Oxley Hotel. I loved it, the history… it had been built around 1895 and had been a Cobb & Co stop, and the space. I was so excited by the high ceilings, the huge room which had been a dining room for weary travellers, but then housed only a piano and a few chairs, with one small table.. and of course, the beautiful timber throughout. The staircase was wonderful and was highly polished as was the bar. We children thought we were very grand sitting on a high stool at the bar, once it was closed, cleaned and polished, having a sarsaparilla. We were sometimes even treated to a small pack of Eta salted peanuts..nothing ever matched those.

The new hotel, built around the late 60’s ( and since replaced yet again) was all bricks and tiles and lacked the character of the old. I even missed the downward sloping verandahs from the old hotel, which were made even scarier to walk on by the tales told by Uncle Dave of children slipping off. There was no other access to the rooms we were staying in, so we had to use them, though we did stay very close to the wall.

Our much loved Uncle Dave gave us another Aunt, Thea, when they married in 1960..in the Greek Orthodox Church, West End. My brother and I got to hold the candles, a great honour which gave us a front row seat to their beautiful wedding. Their three sons were added to our great collection of cousins..

I have turned just a small number of pages in Uncle Dave’s Book of Life.. Uncle Dave left us  on the 13th July, 2005.

On this, which would have been his 99th birthday, I remember him fondly as a warm and welcoming family man, very much missed by many…not a bad epitaph for any man.

 

 

 

Aunt Thea & Uncle Dave

Dave is the tall boy with tilted head, second from the right

Five of the brothers together ..Sim, Dave, Harry, Vince, Con

Cousins.. Dave Catsoulis, David Catsoulis and his brother Charles..

Siblings   Harry, Dave, Sim, Vince, Mary in soft blue and Nita..

N.B. As these photos show in random, the captions will be out of order at times.

(c)Crissouli 10th Oct, 2016

(c) photos Catsoulis family

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a good mate’s shed…

This cooler weather isn’t too hard … It’s the wind that gets to me… I just cleared the courtyard and it now has a carpet of gold, red and green, as the persimmon tree sheds it’s leaves. I wouldn’t mind if they were like the liquid amber at the front and the leaves would decompose quickly or break up once they were walked on. Unfortunately they don’t break up for ages…

©Crissouli

All the liquid amber leaves get raked into the garden, they make the best mulch. Well, that’s if HRH doesn’t get a burst of enthusiasm and pile them into the bin. (Someone has been known to tip them out again. 😇 )

The tree at Sunnybank only has half the amount of leaves but Dad used to bag them up and give them away to a couple of ladies who came every autumn to collect them. Mum gave me mine when it was only a 15cm seedling, so I sent it back with her to raise to at least 30cm… hate to think how tall it is now. It’s a pain with all that drops onto the roof…but the ‘carpet’ that it gives is wonderful..

This weather reminds me of a picnic we had in a farmer’s shed, up near Thora… Mum and Dad, my brother, me … in the old De Soto, Uncle Dave, Uncle Harry, Aunt Mary and Uncle Herb in the Customline… The day had started off absolutely beautiful… but it got quite cool and then windy, with rain promising. We had blankets and all the food in baskets, thermoses of hot water, even a teapot (of course) and so much food. We drove towards the Thora Bridge at the base of Dorrigo mountain, but couldn’t find any shelter. Uncle Dave motioned Dad to pull over and asked Dad to follow him as he ‘had a mate’ that had orange trees and a big shed right near the road. He convinced Dad that the farmer wouldn’t worry if we used his shed…so off we went, following him. Within a short time, Uncle Dave pulled up beside a huge shed, almost a barn, that only had three walls.. perfect.. except for one minor thing… it was on the other side of a fence. No problem for two out of three Catsoulis boys… but not quite as easy for Mum, Aunt Mary, Uncles Herb and Harry.. my brother and I got through the fence ok and we’d passed everything over. Just as we set out everything, it started to pour rain…

We were very glad we were in shelter… till a cow wandered in, followed by a farmer on a very old tractor. I’m not sure who got the biggest shock. The cow didn’t mind too much…The farmer ‘asked’ what we were doing there… Uncle Dave jumped up and started to explain … surprisingly, the farmer didn’t know him from Adam. Luckily he had a generous streak and just asked that we didn’t leave any mess and gracefully accepted a scone from Aunt Mary… and he returned not long after with a bag of oranges ‘for the kiddies’… It took Uncle Dave quite a while to live down the story of his ‘mate’s shed’.

©Crissouli Sept 2019

* Not ‘the’ shed.. courtesy of   Bluedawe – Own work

Abandoned machinery shed, Maldon NSW Australia    CC BY-SA 3.0

I SHALL BRING YOU FLOWERS!

(Image courtesy of Pixabay)

Eighty seven years ago today, the fourth child and the third daughter, Margaret, later to be known as Peg, was born to a young Dorrigo couple, Roy and Biddy (Bridget) Swadling. Roy was working in the saw mill and Biddy was caring for their young family.

Pat  was five, Mary, also known as Molly, was three and a half and Betty (Elizabeth), was two. I’m not sure whether Pat had started at the convent at that time, but the rest were at home. In that year, the Great Depression began. I have often wondered just how the family managed, though it was difficult for most in those years. From what my mother told me, they were a happy family, despite Biddy’s indifferent health. Her sister, Molly (also Mary) was a frequent visitor and the two sisters were known for their lovely singing voices and their sense of humour… after all, they were Irish. I was fortunate enough to know Aunt Molly, how I loved her Irish brogue… she was always so kind to us as children and though we didn’t see her often, she filled a little of the role of our Irish grandmother whom we never got to meet.

Mum lost her mother when she just eleven, to TB.

Biddy left her young family just a few weeks short of her 41st birthday. Mum always thought that she, too, would die young – though she lived longer than her mother, passing away at just 51.

Biddy, daughter Mary, holding a friend’s baby, Betty and Peg, taken not long before Biddy died.    © Crissouli and family

 

One of my favourite photos with Mum. I was about three, carefully examining the appliquéd leaves which were tan, on Mum’s white dress. This was taken in Aunt Mary’s yard. I always thought Mum looked beautiful in that dress.

©Crissouli and family

 

 

So many birthdays we missed out on, but we never forget. We smile at the memories of all those we shared.. you shall never age.

Thinking of you as always, Mum, with love and gratitude for the unconditional love and caring you gave us all.

©Crissouli 10th July 2017