The tent was pitched, in the middle of a huge "square" in the city of Kerkyra on the island of corfu
I haven'y had time since Thursday to upload the fotos
There were moments of bliss, the tent full of people listening, entranced, to stories
There were moments of exhaustion ..driving the van by a river in the mountains..8 hrs drive..arriving to find there was no provision for electricity(how else would the drill work? or would we be hammering into tarmac, 45 holes?) and then the police hadn't been notified so we had to stop until that got sorted out..
and then having to be there, watching, guarding, telling, cleaning rugs and pillows for 16 out of 24 hours
but it was all ok in the end,
more than ok
magic
yes, I believe in magic
moments:
storks clacking away in their treetops at dawn
a tiny bird stealing wool from a flokati rug to line its nest
the lizard that stood guard next to me for hours looking at the tent from its stone, there in the park
the children talking to the genie of the lamp, they saw it, they really did
the swallows swooping and crying to each other every morning and evening
the people from morocco and afganistan and albania who gathered in and around the tent to tell me their stories after everyone had left
Thodoris and Alekos who catered for an "official" event in the tent who fed anyone who asked for food after the mayor and the ambassadors had had their fill of couscous and hummus
the way the young men looked at the meat before making the courage to ask for some
oh the stories I heard...
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