Music may go off at midnight in Icmeler, but music of a different kind starts, as soon as the sun begins to rise.

Up in the Old Village cockerels crow at the start of this new day,
Strutting around their harem of cackling hens,I suppose maybe disscusing with each other the routine of the coming day as their broods of chickens scratch away at the baked earth.

Sheep and goats call to each other, while the pidgeons sit on the rooftops of the small village houses cooing and canoodling to each other
and in the background is the constant rhythmic beat of the crickets.

A small brush fire is burning at one of the farms while this old lady clears the grass and small bushes off her land, the smoke gently spiralling into the warm air, stinging the nostrils as I walk past.

The early morning walk over, I head back towards the town and as I get near to the centre I am brought back to reallity by the beating from one of the bars selling early morning breakfasts, the song,
Deeper in The Night

I keep giving myselfe reasons to stay in the Old Village
The tranquill atmosphere in the morning.
The Dark skies at night when the stars stand out like little jewels.

Why cant we live two lives.
Then again maybe I do.

Gene