Griege

On a day like this, griege is all I can think of: a suitable word for the blend of grey and beige, for the unfinished; not fully processed, neither bleached nor dyed textile of a heavy Sunday sky. A sky that makes Sunday feel like a huge waiting room, where you just want to sit, have a coffee and wait for Monday; for the rain to start; for spring to start.

After lunch, we tried to brighten up the day with some honey, walnuts and yogurt: if we had to choose one food with a visible likeness to sunshine – that would be honey, right? Its sweet and aromatic flavor is comforting and makes us start thinking and dreaming of favorite destinations again.

Right now, in Pisso Livadi of Paros seagulls are flying in circles and cats are sleeping one next to another to stay warm. In Aegina, you can see bicycle riders in raincoats, with Sunday press on their baskets, heading to Aiakion or to Avli for their afternoon coffee. In Kapsaliana village of Crete, the patio living room is lightened up like a lighthouse among the dark olive trees; the cd is playing Aznavour and someone is served a heavenly cappuccino. In Arethoussa of Ikaria people are still having lunch; only a couple of children are playing hide and seek next to the old church, having the freedom and the loneliness, to be able to use an entire village to hide. In Athens, it is a windy, cold and quiet day that made Robins come and say hello again.

photos by christos drazos