Thessaloniki: The Odyssey

In a bus from Kavala, I see the undisturbed mirror of the Aegean sea to my left, rough rock faces rising to the right. Gazing into this broken shore, what is there to find but ever more questions, mountains to climb, bones to break, a new self to carve into a boulder, sticks to find or shells to crunch. This land is too old, it does not forget. It turns its sand to stone and lets it slide away. And lets it wash away into the sea to mix with salt, and weeds, and sunken treasures. What’s there is abstracted, connected to us in dreamscapes only. Accessible merely through fragments channelled through the fragments of self. The landscape is expecting, the mounds are hollow, the sea is empty, waiting to be filled with a better idea of themselves and us. This is the Odyssey of making place.

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