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.
