The Alley

Mark Pol
3 min readNov 8, 2023
Picturesque view in Forza d’Agrò, picturesque town in the province of Messina, southern Italy

I taw a Puddy Tat. I did! I did Taw a Puddy Tat.[i]

A cat walks silently through the narrow street, to which my little Greek apartment adjoins. The alley is a connection between a busy thoroughfare and the boulevard. The cat now sits dead still looking around. The sound of the sea washes through the little street, only the laundry hangs outside. Occasionally a human sound escapes from the surrounding apartments. The sun illuminates the solitude. A narrow oasis in busy Chania.

Just finished a drawing in my sketchbook. I stare at the roll of colored pencils I always carry with me. The melancholy of it all calms my spirits. My, already days-long, cold is starting to get the better of me. The world is not waiting for me.

The sea sloshes against the edges of the natural inlet, in front of the Venetian port. At this time of year, the Greeks have reclaimed the terraces. In this part of Chania, the Greeks are not well off. The poverty there is almost palpable.

Still look at the narrow street. Occasionally a human appears, that human walks through my time slice. Actually, that human being should not be there. My time slice is disturbed by that. Eventually that human disappears into one of the small houses. I try to hold my time slice, yet it escapes me because my eyes wander.

Look over this part of Chania and see countless silent windows, looking at me with puzzled eyes. I try to understand their language. I do not succeed.

The sea attracts my attention again. Her infinite finiteness strikes me deeply. She is moved by forces from beyond our planet. What a wondrous beauty that is.

Keep looking for my feeling between my thoughts. My feeling gets stuck. The reality of the facts pushes my feeling to the background.

I want to start with another sketch. My creativity lies broken between my colored pencils. When my hands can no longer move, my colored pencils are dead things. They then lie willlessly waiting. The sun tries to make me smile and warm my creativity.

It is still very hot in Chania, my beloved Chania. Trying to shut myself off from the emotional noise of the world. Patches of human misery shoot past my ear and eye.



Mark Pol

I am an artist:painter. I paint and draw. Its a kind of figurative surrealism.