In a camera eye, in distance, vision is capture and possession. When I am in Delos I wish to let myself. What kind of people might have been here, living in this dry land, in adornments of wild flowers in the middle of Aegean sea how their work (‘monuments’ for us, lovers of Greece), expressions of their living present – how was it in their lives, out of their lives, try to figure as I see Delos mosaics solemnly fusing all around.

I can not find monuments in Delos, I find only gestures, invitations, hands to hold. Scholars’ books are less important than my guess – cold, trivial, scientific certainty. Better have a copy of my favorite Plato there, or of Homer, or Aeschylus, read some pages there. It won’ t be a long reading, trees are not and the sun burns. One or two pages maybe, one or two sentences, and caring reading, is a luxury.

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Tags: aegean sea * Delos * delos reading * visiting delos

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