Greece Musings 2024
Jimmy pointed toward the mountain‑top soaring in the distance. “It has never been this cold in past years. Snow on these peaks has not been seen for ages. Still, I like the cold. Athens gets far too hot.” I gazed at the odd, over‑sized awnings that nearly swallowed whole buildings, thinking about the burning Mediterranean sun. Unlike the faded, run‑down Athens I remembered from more than a decade ago, the city felt somewhat revitalized this year. Construction cranes multiplied, building sites sprang up, and countless buildings underwent renovation. On the site of the pre‑Olympic old airport, the government drew up grand‑scale plans: casinos, hotels, shopping malls and tourist facilities, each administration devising its own tricks to stimulate the economy.
Even so, I find it hard to love the human‑made world. Noise is one major reason.
People crave bustle and seem undisturbed by racket. Whether this is resignation or genuine indifference, one cannot tell. Desmarquet depicted a higher‑order realm where telepathy prevailed; no spoken words or written texts were needed. In that sound‑free world, all necessities came freely. The air was thick with visible scents of blossoms and surroundings. Everything was graceful, with balanced space and gentle warmth. He never called it paradise, yet it is impossible not to picture it as such. By comparison, humanity’s earthly realm is sordid. Though I have never witnessed war firsthand, I know that nearby, multitudes perish innocently. Even amid our own peace, can you smell the true fragrance of nature? Do you see people living free of care? Can you escape the noise that shatters the spirit?
Chasing vague pleasures, humankind has lost much of its true nature. Must we travel ever faster? Hoard far more food than we require? Fill wardrobes with garments we will never wear? The same holds for housing, energy, money. For fleeting gratification we lay waste our habitat. For illusory personal safety we harm others.
Greece resembles other so‑called developed nations: severe ageing populations, young people drawn to disengagement. It may be one of humanity’s curses. Illusory security and imagined comfort bring collapse of reproduction. Yet another reading exists: safe, idyllic living is itself an illusion. Compared with Desmarquet’s vision of paradise, humanity took the wrong path. Our world does produce real inequality: the safety and comfort of some are built upon the poverty, suffering, even death of many others. Surely human happiness ought not rest upon piles of bones. Going further: are humans truly wise? Nor is the Earth altogether lovely.
Still, can that heavenly blueprint ever descend upon our planet? I doubt it. Mutual exploitation, climbing over others’ bones to reach the top, seems another of humanity’s curses. Perhaps I ought simply wash up and sleep. While bathing I cannot help but re‑program my own mind: the world itself has no inherent reality; joy and sorrow are illusions. Beyond myself lies only void. Desmarquet’s paradise remains nothing but fantasy.
I behold a world of faltering elders, listen to symphonies woven from noise, breathe sharp air mixing fumes and fragrance. A wounded Earth bleeds. What can we do?
Here I stand
I can only be here
All is hollow
Devoid of living beings
The wings I bore at birth are broken
My soul, once touched by paradise, is deeply tainted
Is this my choice?
Or your decree?
I dimly recall my soul’s original purity
And my hands stained with filth
I drove myself down into the abyss
Or so I believed
Could I truly do such a thing?
Did I hurl myself into the depths?
Created in pastel on paper. Wherever I travel, a sketchbook, a box of twelve water‑colours, a few brushes and clean water create my place of escape — my own version of Desmarquet’s higher realm. These works blend on‑site observation and imagination. Untitled.
