Flying into Athens, the fires are already visible. We step into 45°. The Metro line from the airport isn't running. Maybe the rails have buckled in the heat.
Ash falls in a hot snow over the city.
In the Acropolis Museum a statue is weeping. She offers an ancestor for Catherine Schaub's lamenting witness - the Libation Bearer. Only last week we were on the stage of the Soleil - battling to grace these whimpering tomorrows with the name of tragedy.
Ash falls in a hot snow over the city.
Our meeting is brief and desultory. We attempt to debate the socially engaged. Some people don't stay beyond the first morning - present only to record their presence. Their cynicism oppresses more deeply than the sun. A moral vacuum. A failure of vision. They fiddle with their phones and cremate the planet with the fuel of their insouciance.
Ash falls in a hot snow over the city.
Today is August 6th. Hiroshima Day. We knew in 1945. In Beirut, 1982, Mahmoud Darwish witnessed this day under a hail of shelling. The vacuum bomb. He longed for coffee and he knew today. The statue on the Acropolis too. Aeschylus, Electra, Oedipus, Tiresias.... We have always known.
The attendance report is sent to the funder.
Ash falls in a hot snow over the city.
