The God of the Fleeting Moment in the Convent of Saint Nicholas

Towards the end of the afternoon, the heat of the sun was like a silky pitiless beast - we reeled through Trogir's labyrinth of alleyways - we crossed squares bisected by shadow - mysterious churches were guarded by locked doors of scorched, pale, wood - we glanced up, to see carved heads decorating the balconies of Venetian Palaces - narrow arched windows were shuttered against the glare -

We then saw a gateway to the Convent of Saint Nicholas - we walked into a shady courtyard, paved with white flagstones - potted palms comforted the eye - I wondered if this was the site of the cloisters - smooth pillars supported graceful arches - above us was a noble balcony, with a stone balustrade - brilliant greenery hung down from window boxes - I felt immediately calm - I stroked the pillars, one by one -

We paid 30 kuna to see the works of art inside - a nun with glasses took the beautiful notes - she sat, like a serene doll, at the entrance to the gallery -

There were several Gothic and Renaissance paintings - Saint Sebastian lolled sensuously, pierced with arrows - an icon of the sad Mother of God glowed with a chilling, severe, beauty -

But what caught our eye was the figure of a naked young man - Kairos - the God of the fleeting moment - slim and graceful, he was beyond pursuit - he clutched a razor in his right hand - there were wings at his feet -

I stared at this beautiful figure for some time - I remembered all of the times he had slipped from my grasp - perhaps one day I would manage to keep hold of his hair -