The
Texas heat has set in. Yesterday the mercury soared to 109 deg. F. (42 deg. C.).
The sky is bleached white and blue, like the Greek flag. The heat, too, reminds
me of Greece. I have fond memories, from longer ago than I care to admit, of sitting
on a hotel balcony gazing at Heraklion’s Oriental rooftops incarnadined in the setting
sun. And visiting the tomb of Nikos Kazantzakis on the city walls of Heraklion.
The old wanderer’s epitaph is carved on his tombstone: : Δεν ελπίζω
τίποτα. Δε φοβάμαι τίποτα. Είμαι λεύτερος. I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I
am free. These memories,and the neo-Grecian heat shimmering outside, make me want
to pick up Zorba again. Or Report to Greco, a copy of which was given
to me by Kazantzakis’ widow Eleni. (But that, as they say, is another story.)
