THROUGH THE DRY RIVER BED...

      I started the walk on a little path by the old Bizantine village

           At the beginning the boulders were big, but not at all intimidating...

But then I saw the endless canyon. I swallowed hard and got on with it, the walk...

As I left the canyon and began climbing I saw the little monastery, down below, all shut down. I heard cicadas, and the bells of goats in the distance and I heard the wind...

I went further up and seemed to touch the clouds from time to time. No more cicadas, no more goats, just the wind and my breathing...

The first hour passed, my legs seemed to want to give in, and at the end I saw the coast from the top. I had Greece at my feet...

And around the corner from the old wall, I saw the door to the hermit of Saint George. I walked in, no more roof, just the icons and the wind...