Hoary and scrawny like a baccalà, the toothless widowed neighbour Toula was peeping behind the grape vines, shaking her head in big disapproval and stringing expletives like a necklace of thunders and curses through her missing teeth “Strumpet!  Bloody Strumpet!  May you never see a clear day, you night harlot!”

Melina was not paying attention to the hissing cusses of her neighbour, nor she could hear her.  She was on the rooftop hanging on the washing line her new filigree lingerie and the fresh octopus.  She got it as a present from Stavros, one of the fishermen at the sea dock who was visiting her every so often on his free nights.  He was a regular client, but she rarely charged him.  Sometimes she will see him gratis just for keeping her company and for sharing a meal.  Sometimes, when he just pisses off to the nearest harbors, to the nearest towns’ pubs, and to the other women’s bosoms, she would just wish him dead.