(instead of) Ze Sntory Ov My Live (Episode 2)Δημοσιεύθηκε: Ιουνίου 26, 2009 | |
The solar ecliptic maniacs (who I seem to be growing one of) didn’t leave me in peace so that I do what I have promised and go on with the :Life of my Story: -oops «Story of My Life«.
But the more I am busy, the better I go (this is no Murphy’s, don’t know whose law this is).
So I was in a cafe this noon and there was a schoolkid who had left his schoolbag on a chair and it fell over and all the books scattered on the floor and I picked them up and I looked through the pages of the Language book of the 4th grade.
In page 115 I ran across ME (myself) as a 9 y.o. girl on my first visit in Ikaria !! The coloured drawing + Odysseas Elytis’ poem «Song of a Girl» .
I’m «the fastest gun in the East» so I took out my camera and shot at the page.
I heard that these old books are going to be out of print, so I wanted to keep this as a souvenir. When they brought me in Ikaria in 1982 I had the same short blue dress and I was after butterflies. It was Easter, a very unsual time for a visit. It was for my grandmother’s sister’s funeral. She had died in Athens and they had brought her to burry her on the island. It was a very complicated business. For reasons that I assume you understand, lots (tons in fact) of flowers were needed with which to cover the coffin and fill the whole church.
I was supposed to be in charge of this ‘flower operation’. I roamed the fields to collect them. I can’t remember if I was «bitten by butterflies» or held in my hand ‘enormous bees’ (that’s what the Elytis’ song says). I clearly remember that there were loads of flowers in the church afterwards during the ceremony and I was very proud as if it was me who had collected them.
It wasn’t me of course, but the older women (who I always refer to as ‘the salt of the earth’). I had been given that job so that I didn’t take part in the sad preparations for the undertaking.
I was tooo young.
Then my grandmother told me a wild story, the wildest ever… I remember it because I asked her again and again to repeat it. I was about Death. Then I met the same story in Robert Graves‘ Greek Mythology. The only common thing my granny and R. Graves had, was that they were about the same age; nothing else, I swear.
The Ikarian Easter of 1982 sealed my life. I was aware of this much later.
How do I manage to work for TV now, …oh, forget it.
That’s another story…
Have patience, oh readers.