Love's Canva

Greece, is a dream destination for many, holds a special place in the hearts of those who visit. Its captivating architecture continues to inspire awe, the ocean view, even upon repeated viewings. Renowned artworks and historic ruins never fail to leave visitors speechless. Couples choose it as their honeymoon destination, and tourists prioritize it on their travel bucket lists.

As for me, I turned Santorini, Greece into my home.

At the tender age of ten, my family embarked on a trip to Greece, and like everyone else, I instantly fell in love with the country. I made a solemn promise to myself that once I turned eighteen, I would move here. True to my word, on my eighteenth birthday, I bid farewell to my hometown and set foot in Greece. During the eight years leading up to my move, I made extensive preparations. I learnt Greek, although it seemed unnecessary as most people I encountered spoke English. I carefully planned which college to attend and where I would live. Saving up the required funds proved challenging, but luckily my parents offered to cover my college expenses, which eased the financial burden. In the end, all the effort was worthwhile. Now, at the age of twenty-four, I am the proud owner of a flourishing florist business. Flowers have always been a passion of mine, with their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance never failing to uplift my spirits. When I was younger, my grandmother had an expansive garden where she taught me all about flowers. Opening my own flower shop feels like a way to keep her memory close. "Good morning. Isn't it a beautiful day today?" Gio, the cafe's owner, greets me from behind the counter as I step inside. "Certainly is," I reply, a smile forming on my face, and grab my cup of coffee from the counter. Despite my protests, Gio insists on having my coffee ready every morning. I bid him farewell and swiftly leave the café, just as quick as my arrival. The early morning atmosphere in Santorini, Greece transports you to a different realm. The streets are less crowded with tourists, and the sun peeks over the horizon, painting the clouds in hues of tangerine orange and bubble-gum pink.

Every aspect of Greece mesmerizes me, from the quaint local shops to the world-famous Oia Castle. While I reside in Oia, Santorini I occasionally venture to Athens and Thebes. If it were possible, I would live in all three places. However, I have my sights set on Crete as my future home once I conclude my floral business. There's something about that city that makes me feel truly at home, whether it's the charming colored buildings or the crystal-clear waters-I can't quite put my finger on it. Today, like any other day in Santorini, Greece, I wake up early to prepare for work, although I'm lacking the usual motivation. Nonetheless, it's Friday, so I can't complain. Passersby on the street greet me with smiles and kind words, the philoxenia experience is divine to say the least, it was as if we've known each other our entire lives. Although not all people are like that, there are some other individuals rushing past, completely oblivious to the captivating scenery. Their minds revolve solely around work and money. Yet, flowers never fail to add that extra pep in my step. Their delightful scent and vibrant hues infuse me with a rush of serotonin. The exterior of my shop, named 'Calliope's Flowers', is adorned with blooms of various colors, as if they are welcoming visitors into a world of beauty and enchantment-a prelude to the wonders that lie inside. What could possibly go wrong? "Morning, boss,"

Elias greets me as I approach the front desk, a warm smile on his face, with a hint of a mid-life crisis lurking behind his eyes. "You're here early," I remark, raising an eyebrow. This early arrival is uncharacteristic of him. Elias was one of my first hires when I opened my business, and over the past two years, we've become best friends. Originally from England, he relocated to Greece in search of a fresh start after his heartbreak with a high school sweetheart. It appears that starting anew worked wonders, as he now radiates a sunny disposition even on the gloomiest days. "I thought I'd come help you get ready today," he says with a smile, but I'm skeptical, handing him my coffee, surprised when he declines. This behavior is entirely out of character for him. He sighs, setting down the papers he was holding and resting his head in his hands. "I've met someone," he confesses, his head still cradled. "Elias, that's fantastic!" I reply, placing a comforting hand on his back. "Why do you seem sad?" "Is it too soon?" he asks, raising his head to meet my gaze. Considering my own experiences, having only been in one serious relationship that ended in heartbreak, I harbor a certain apprehension about falling in love. Love is a bewildering entity that can either result in heartache or lead you to the one. At this point, I'm uncertain if I ever want to deal with love again, especially when I haven't completely moved on from my past relationship. "How do you feel when you look at her?"

"Him," he corrects me, and I nod, recalling that Elias is bisexual. "Okay. How do you feel when you look at him?" I inquire further.

"Like I'm on top of the world," Elias chuckles softly, a blush tinting his cheeks. "His name is Adrian." From the way he said Adrian's name, I can tell Elias is smitten. The look on his face and the glazed expression in his eyes provide the answer he seeks. "Go for it, babe," I playfully nudge him with my hip. He laughs and shakes his head before picking up the stack of papers he had set aside. "I have to meet him soon," I add, taking a seat at my desk and toying with a stray flower that found its way near my keyboard. "Well, he invited me to an art exhibition tonight. One of his friends is the artist," I glance over at Elias, urging him to continue. "You should come. It starts at eight tonight." Since moving here and opening my business, I've been overwhelmed with work. One might assume that running a flower shop is simple, but it's far more challenging than expected. Every day, hundreds of flowers arrive, and numerous customers purchase them. I must ensure each flower is adequately watered and arranged to perfection. Taking a break for the evening would do me good. "Sure, I'll go," I make up my mind, eliciting a warm smile from Elias.

An evening involving wine and light conversation sounds absolutely perfect.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was already five o'clock, leaving me with only two and a half hours to prepare for the art exhibition as the extra thirty minutes would be used to transport myself to the location as it's not close. Due to my busy schedule, I had only attended a few art exhibitions in the past, although I found art intriguing. Each person perceived art differently, and everyone had their own interpretation of it. Only the artist truly knew its intended meaning, allowing others to form their own opinions.

While I couldn't claim expertise in art, my father happened to be an artist. Not only that, he was also an art professor who dedicated his life to inspiring aspiring artists to pursue their dreams, just as he had done. It had worked out well for him, as he eventually captured the attention of my mother. Their love story was a tale I cherished, and I loved hearing it whenever it was brought up. As the clock neared eight, I was en route to the art exhibition in an Uber, as Elias had sent me a pin to the location. My red dress elegantly brushed the ground as I walked, accompanied by the click of my black heels on the sidewalk, the sound echoing through the street. A few couples strolled hand in hand along the sidewalk, engaged in whispered conversations. Elias awaited me outside the small building, and upon seeing me, he chuckled and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Well, don't you look stunning?" he remarked, teasingly adding, "That low v-neck gives you a bit of a scandalous look." I playfully swatted him away. "Where's Adrian?" I eagerly inquired, my eyes searching for him beyond the open door. "He's inside," he replied with a smile. "Come on, let's go." I took his hand, and he led me into the crowded room, guiding me through the throngs of people. I hadn't realised there would be so many attendees and wondered if the artist was quite famous. Elias finally stopped when we reached the back of the building, and there, I spotted a slightly shorter man with blue eyes, his smile warming my heart. "You must be Adrian." I greeted him with a smile, extending my hand for a shake. "And you must be Calliope. Pleased to meet you," he replied, his thick accent carrying through the crowded room as he shook my hand. "You're even lovelier than Elias described." "You're even more handsome than Elias described. I guess he's not good with details," I chuckled, nudging Elias with my elbow.

A waiter passed by, offering glasses of champagne, and I accepted one, taking a small sip and widening my eyes in delight. "This is the best champagne I've ever had." "Adrian always insists on having the best," he chuckled, and my heart seemed to flutter at the mention of his name. "Is he the artist?"

"Indeed, he is. Why don't you take a look around, and we'll catch up later? The paintings convey different emotions, by the way," he added, nodding towards the artwork. Taking his advice, I began to explore the gallery, studying each painting with genuine interest.

Most of the paintings featured models captured in a way that resembled photographs. Each model had a unique appearance; their beauty was distinct from one another. None of them looked alike, and each painting seemed to convey a different emotion. It wasn't just emotions like sadness or anger, but rather more nuanced feelings like lust or jealousy. Each piece intrigued me more than the last, pulling me deeper into contemplation as I tried to identify the emotion portrayed. The colours used were soft and almost creamy, evoking a sense of peace, while the expressions on the models' faces truly conveyed the intended emotion. The paintings appeared delicately executed, as if the artist had invested significant time and effort into each one. It seemed that the artist shared a personal connection with the models, and one model with curly black hair and soft-looking brown skin appeared most frequently, making me wonder if this was the artist's muse. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realise someone had approached me until their presence pulled me back to reality. "Do you like them?" the person asked, causing me to snap out of my reverie.

The person standing beside me immediately took my breath away. I couldn't tell if it was the way his neatly framed brown hair complemented his tanned, tattooed skin or their radiant beauty that made me feel as if I were underwater. His rolled-up sleeves revealed tattoos on his biceps, hinting at toughness, yet his facial features exuded gentleness. It was as if a painting had come to life, existing in the real world instead of on a canvas. Words were insufficient to describe his beauty, leaving me speechless. His green eyes seemed to delve into my soul, observing my every move and scanning my body, leaving me with a weight on my chest. A small smile formed on his lips as he looked at me, tilting his head slightly. "Did you hear what I said?" His accent resonated in my ears as their lips moved. "Sorry, what?" I managed to say that I was still captivated by the person standing before me. His smile widened, accompanied by a soft laugh, as they moved a bit closer. "I asked if you liked the paintings."

"Like what?" My mind was blank, overwhelmed by their presence.

"The paintings," they replied, shifting their attention to the artwork on the wall.

"Oh, those," I breathed out, feeling foolish. "I love them. They're so captivating. I'd love to meet the artist. It seems like they put immense effort and thought into each piece, effectively conveying emotions. I feel like I could gaze at them for days just to grasp their full meaning." Their smile grew as they turned their gaze back to me, revealing a dimple on their cheek. "Well, you're in luck." "How so?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"I'm Dimitri Kouris. The artist."

I'm Dimitri Kouris. The artist," echoed repeatedly in my mind as I gazed at him in wonder. It was unbelievable that I was standing face-to-face with the creator of these remarkable masterpieces. The mere thought seemed incomprehensible. "So, you're the artist?" I managed to utter it, struggling to process the reality. He nodded, his emerald green eyes fixed on me, carrying an indescribable expression. As I held an empty glass of champagne, he took it from my hand and replaced it with a glass of wine, pouring one for himself as well.

"I appreciate your description of my paintings," Dimitri remarked, taking a sip of his wine. "It makes me feel like I've achieved something."

I responded with a hum, moving on to the next painting. He followed closely behind, observing my reactions intently. "Achieved what, exactly?" I asked, stealing a glance at him from the corner of my eye, captivated by his focused gaze.

"It's about evoking specific emotions in people when they look at my art. I would be concerned if it left them feeling nothing at all," he chuckled softly. "What emotions do you see in this one?"

My eyes roamed over the painting, absorbing the colours and the subject. Unlike the others, this painting revealed only a fraction of the person's face, with just a corner of their eye visible. Yet, it didn't require the full face to understand the emotion portrayed; the body language spoke volumes. "At first glance, the various shades of blue suggest melancholy, hinting at sadness. But upon closer inspection, it transcends any notions of sorrow," I explained, sensing myself rambling. With hesitation, I turned my head to face him, unsure if I had grasped the true essence of the beautiful artwork.

Once again, his eyes held an inexplicable expression, evoking a new kind of nervousness within me. "How have our paths never crossed before?" he inquired, a faint grin playing on his lips as he took another sip of his wine, the crimson liquid accentuating the fullness of his mouth.

A soft laugh escaped my lips as we continued walking together, realising that I had reached the end of his paintings. "I'm here with a friend who knows your friend Adrian," I revealed, receiving a nod and a gentle chuckle from Dimitri. "I rarely go out, but I decided to tonight, and so far, I have no regrets."

"That's always good to hear," Dimitri chuckled, his simple laughter causing my heart to flutter. We strolled and conversed, with Dimitri occasionally pausing to greet people along the way. I spotted Elias and Adrian standing together while Dimitri engaged in conversation elsewhere. Seeking a brief respite from the crowd, I approached them. laughed at something Adrian said, and I didn't intrude on their conversation.

"You're back! How did you like it?" Adrian greeted me with a smile.

"Dimitri's art is incredible. I've never seen anything quite like it," I admitted, receiving a nod of agreement from Adrian. He then placed his arm around Elias's waist, and a blush crept onto Elias's cheeks. The three of us engaged in small talk as the crowd gradually thinned, indicating the lateness of the hour. Dimitri was nowhere to be found, and I caught myself scanning the crowd for him more than once. "We're about to leave. Would you like to join us?" Adrian offered, and I pondered whether I was ready to depart. I still desired to speak with Dimitri for some reason. He seemed like such an intriguing person, and I longed to hear about his sources of inspiration. "No, you two go ahead. I think I'll stay a bit longer," I replied after a moment's hesitation. "It was lovely meeting you, Adrian! I hope we can meet again soon."

"Likewise, Calliope. Don't stay out too late," Adrian winked, as if he sensed my true motive for staying behind.

Elias bid me farewell with a hug, taking the empty wine glass from my hand. "No more for you. You've already had three tonight," he whispered in my ear before walking away. I chuckled to myself, waving goodbye to them as they departed hand in hand. As I awaited Dimitri's return, I decided to take another stroll, eager to immerse myself in the paintings once more. With only a few lingering individuals present, I could leisurely absorb the artwork, allowing my thoughts to wander freely. Each painting possessed a breathtaking uniqueness, but one in particular intrigued me.

This painting depicts a street filled with people sheltering themselves under umbrellas, signifying a rainy day. The distant Eiffel Tower stood illuminated in the background. What captured my attention most was a couple in the midst of the street, devoid of an umbrella. They simply held hands and engaged in conversation, seemingly oblivious to the pouring rain. Sitting down on a nearby bench, I removed my shoes, fully engrossed in the painting's intricate details. Every element of the artwork revolved around the couple, despite the chaos unfolding around them. People hurriedly sought shelter from the rain, eager to reach home before it intensified. The illuminated street, lined with lights, suggested a late hour. Words failed to capture the emotions stirred within me by this painting. The easiest way to describe it would be happiness, although it evoked a profound sentiment surpassing mere joy. Oh, how I longed to experience a love like that.

"This is my favourite one." Dimitri's voice broke the silence. I turned to him, realising he had quietly taken a seat beside me. "I captured this scene during my time in Paris, and it inspired me to paint it." "What were they doing?" I inquired, earning a puzzled look from him. "The couple in the painting."

"They were standing in the rain, as if it weren't raining at all. They wore the biggest smiles and seemed utterly carefree in that moment. While everyone else rushed to escape the rain, they appeared as though they could stay there forever," Dimitri explained, his eyes sparkling as he reminisced, a faint smile adorning his lips.

Though I didn't voice it, I concurred. This painting resonated with me the most. "What was Paris like?" I asked him, perplexing him momentarily. "I mean, your experience of it."

"It was breathtaking. I had never witnessed anything quite like it. Leaving was difficult," he confessed."Then why did you leave?" He chuckled, diverting his gaze back to the painting. "You certainly ask a lot of questions," he remarked, evading my query. I shrugged, stealing a glimpse of his profile. "I'm naturally curious"."Well, that's a secret I prefer to keep to myself," Dimitri replied. I nodded and, biting my lip, averted my gaze, looking away from him. "By the way, I never caught your name."

"Oh, it's Calliope."

"Calliope," he smiled, my name rolling off his tongue and sending delightful shivers down my spine. "Like the goddess of inspiration and creativity?"

"Yeah. My mom adored Greek mythology, and Calliope was one of the nine muses that were goddesses of inspiration, creativity, and the arts. She loved Calliope so much because of her association with epic poetry and eloquence that she named her first daughter after it," I recounted, shaking my head at the memories of the arguments my parents had over her decision. "I remember dressing up in Greek goddess attire when I was younger, reenacting the story with her."