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agelastos

Αγέλαστος πέτρα (2000)

I wander by, aimlessly, like this.

The mysteries of Eleusis are unearthed (partially, at least) in numerous and extended excavations – literal and symbolic.

The great wound of history.

Inevitable change, with the old – reluctantly or willingly – leaving place for the new.

The daily anguish of survival.

Refugees mourning the tragic loss of Ionia.

Nothing is simple.

The position of Aeschylus in today’s society.

Every man builds his life as a film.

A touching account of human vanity.

Out with the profane.

Voices, faces, artifacts.

Above the earth and below the clouds.

A multitude of pregnant quotes and thoughts.

The only fortune is memory.

Sad, beautiful, ordinary.

The rhythm of the world changed inside me.

Softspoken, rambling, and fragmented – but somehow still coherent and clear.

Our age is relentless. After all, life must go on.

Poetic in language, prosaic in imagery.

A rare and bitter privilege.

Endings, beginnings, circles, breaks.

Give me this stranger.

A very personal piece of work.

Whatever we say now, we are closer to the underground.

The passing of time, the promise of life and death.

She is watching thoughtfully, trying to understand how Hades grew so big

Industry, modernity, marketing, commerce – evolution or degeneration?

Creatures of a day! What is a man? What is he not? Man is the dream of a shadow.

Destruction versus preservation.

I also noticed the cyclamens in the cracks of the rocks, a sign that Persefone is on her journey to the underworld.

Process.

A person brings the oars with which paddle his own life.

A spiralling mix of documentation and decay.

Insufficient sample of a daily agony that seeks solutions in this place.

In my book of stone, kindness, and subtle statements.

I shall be unworthy if I forget about you my dear Smyrna.

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