One afternoon, the afternoon was really morning, and I woke up hungry. And so, with heavy lids, I threw on a dress, and asked myself this question:
How FAR must I travel to find food? 100 meters, 200, 50, 10, 5, 2, <1?
I grabbed the keys and unlocked the prison door, stepped down from its crown, and took an uncertain step into the morning, letting my inner compass guide my gait, rocking me to and fro, when, ZORBA, the closet taverna, pulled me in.
Μπαρβα Γιαννης and his son, Raphael, the student of LOGIC, were sitting at the table, breathing the Aegean Breeze, and those heavy lids briefly opened long enough for me to say …
” Πεινάω kai Πονάω.”
And I was swept inside – And fed.