Lost or found?

The first time I learnt about Iraklia, pronounced Iraklià, with an accent on the final vowel, was over twenty years ago, an article from a Touring Club guide was informing me about this tiny little island, south of Naxos (Cyclades), where – the legend has it – somewhere on the bottom of the sea, lie the remains of Atlantis.

An island which would literally be one last and lost piece of paradise was going to be my redemption, my release exactly what for years I had been dreaming, a recurrent dream which year after year slowly turned into A NIGHTMARE, culminated exactly 10 years ago.

And of which yesterday I had a little aftertaste, my mouth still bitter and sore.
Alla ricerca del paradiso perduto.

Lascia un commento

Il tuo indirizzo email non sarà pubblicato. I campi obbligatori sono contrassegnati *

Volatile /vɒlətaɪl/

Volatile /vɒlətaɪl/

The following morning it is a dictionary that comes to remind me about my communication failure

Absrdities of travels

Absrdities of travels

Following my very personal travelling experience, the more adsurd the reason of a journey – or else irregular, if anything unexpected – the richer and more intense the result