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I always long for those lunches that begin anywhere between noon and 5 pm and end only when the owner decides it’s time to drag the tables off the beach and back across the road. We linger now, on the sand, finishing off our frappés in glasses that we will later deposit on the taverna’s doorstep.

On our way back we are twice blessed — with the haphazard washing lines of octopus silhouettes and a Greek sunset.