In this moment of suspense, between the slow ending of an old regime and a new system, who has to find himself, I step back from the pseudo fresh news, and dust off a bookshelf , till I find “The Alexandria Quartet” by Lawrence Durrell and few other books of that era and group of friends.

A certain spirit in some oeuvres sounds like the prism view of a lizards eye, who s fast heart beat beyond a pretend detachment, reflects the warmth of antique walls, disturbed beds, human struggle and eternal wisdom.

Sometimes an old song brings back the awareness how relatively short therm  some too long lasting circumstances are. Stepping away from the crowd, enjoying the light on some leaves, the waves ending on the toes , echo s the dream of the fallen splendours in the deep sea. once…once…once…long ago.

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