Sunday, July 31, 2011

In the path between the vineyards

The dawn of my first night in my hometown was only a couple of hours away. I was standing on the balcony,  facing the mountain on the North-Eastern border of the village, and gazing at the unperturbed sky. As I searched for words for a spell to stop the drunken and high motorbikes racing all around, one word echoed in my  mind.
It came to the foreground, took the full scene, obstructed my thoughts.
Here I was, trying and push it aside, climb over it, move past it in my effort to resume phrasing the curse, when another word stood next to it. A Greek  word, very similar in sound to the previous one: methorios and  then I knew what was it all about.
Methorios :  “that stands on the border between two areas.” Without belonging to either one.  

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