The sun was brilliant today and the Meltemi had a decidedly autumnal feel. It has howled all day, and continues the howl through the tangle of electrical lines crisscrossing the small section of Paroikia I call home. The cypress trees whip back and forth and Bougainvillea blossoms, free from their thorny moorings, sail their over-saturated colors into my small apartment.
It is Monday, September 9, 2013 and I have taken down my exhibit. I have enjoyed the three-week long event. I think of my images differently than when I hung them. What was once ‘Giorgos and Giorgos‘ I refer to as ‘Don Quixote and Sancho Panza‘; ‘Erin‘ is now ‘The Vermeer Photograph’; ‘Angelika‘ I think of as ‘The Abstract Realist.’ Things change, the Earth tilts and wobbles, the days shorten, the air cools and we slide into bright autumn. I can almost smell the rain, but I know that is just an illusion.
Now I am filled with melancholia, ennui, a sense of emptiness. As I write this at Mikro Kafe I realize that in an hour there will be no need for me to open up the Aegean Center, turn on the lights and arrange the easeled sign outside on the marble steps. All of that is past. My portraits are safely in their crate, currently a large piece of furniture in my flat. The sign, too, is there, tucked behind a bookcase.
I have little choice but to get back to work. That is the best way to shake off these ghosts.