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Fragments of personal experiences. A notebook of memory. Family photographs, ftexts abandoned by others and kept by me. Relics. Heirlooms. Sailing to Aegina – the first images, the sea – clutching Elytis’ Carte Blance[. “It’s the girl”, says the poet, “with a jug in her hand.” Milta or the Archetype. It’s “Milta,” the women of the Mediterranean, it’s “Milta” of the sea, of memory, and of poetry. Predominantly the poetry of the word, but also of the image. So I surrendered myself to my memories, to the house, to the book, to the street. Summer, heat – as “The Garden Entered the Sea.” The time has come to offer them to you, like water on the table.
January 1, 2010 · 20m
Fragments of personal experiences. A notebook of memory. Family photographs, ftexts abandoned by others and kept by me. Relics. Heirlooms. Sailing to Aegina – the first images, the sea – clutching Elytis’ Carte Blance[. “It’s the girl”, says the poet, “with a jug in her hand.” Milta or the Archetype. It’s “Milta,” the women of the Mediterranean, it’s “Milta” of the sea, of memory, and of poetry. Predominantly the poetry of the word, but also of the image. So I surrendered myself to my memories, to the house, to the book, to the street. Summer, heat – as “The Garden Entered the Sea.” The time has come to offer them to you, like water on the table.