For the first time since dawn, you can hear the wind.
This is the "Golden Hour." In Santorini, it feels like a prayer. You find your perch in Oia. Not on the main thoroughfare—that is for elbows and selfie sticks—but on a hidden terrace above the ruined castle. a night in santorini
You look up. There is no light pollution here. You see the Milky Way spilling across the sky. It is easy to believe the myths here—that Atlantis lies beneath your feet, that gods once threw tantrums in these rocks. The crowds are gone. The only sound is the lapping of the Aegean against the cliffs 800 feet below. For the first time since dawn, you can hear the wind
The cliché is true: you have never seen a sunset like this. It lasts forever and ends too soon. Now it is dark. True dark. The kind of dark that makes the stars look like chipped diamonds. Not on the main thoroughfare—that is for elbows
You step inside. The floor is cool marble. The bed faces a window that is the entire wall. Outside, a single ferry blinks on the horizon.