The Aegean, Root and Duration

For forty centuries, the Aegean Sea has flown in our veins. Just like the blood that preserves and make us shudder. It roars in our ears and our memories, sprinkles us with its brine, lulls us in our cradle and laments for us with the laments of  waves. It gets soaked with the rains and our tears and becomes deeper, taking something from the mystery of our contradictory souls which have hated, loved, believed, denied, stabbed, committed suicide, died peacefully, and been resurrected.  Our houses are built on the seashores of the Aegean Sea; we have planted our trees on its rocks.

We have made our children ship-captains and sailors because we have heard it calling. Our songs have been steeped in its foam and our church hymns compose its incessant holy liturgy. Elitis ‘ Sun the First and Kyr- Alexandros Papadiamantis’ Seal’s Lament rise from within the sounds of the seawinds as they torment the olive trees, the fig trees, and our cypress trees with delight.  In our Greek memory, the Aegean molds and emphasizes our character,our speech, and carves our ideals and our dreams.

Our hearts are a tiny dew drop of Aegean Sea in August, when the moon sanctifies the surface of the waters.  A biological force binds our nostalgia with our expectation to travel through this ancestral Aegean, to walk on it on wings of winds, embroider it with songs and night exhaltations, breath its fragrance before it becomes soled, and sing songs to it, before our voices become unfit for singing.

I want to arm a boat

with forty two oars

and sixty brave lads

and take you away one night.

MATTHAIOS  MOUNTES