It was yesterday

a thousand and a thousand years ago

I was watching the horizon

place where the dead gather those vagabonds

I had to stride across the sea to find my twin my equal my brother

my mother's voice sailed above Santorini sailed above Chios

seen from afar, Syros looked like a chessboard white and black

Syros, Santorini, Delos, Chios, magma of lava mud and polluted water a thousand years later

the din reached me in my dark den of a world another world had pushed away and I rejoiced

a cataclysm meant for those who live above

those who live below are sheltered between two stones

The archaeologist who just unearthed me didn't know the man who sculpted me

didn't know my mother or the colour of her voice

nor the sorrow of our two linden trees when my brother's body was carried past

nor the way their leaves applauded when the procession disappeared […]