I have been coming here for twenty-three years now. First as a child, simply following my parents during school holidays, for about fifteen days. Back then, a successful day was based on three goals: jumping a little higher than the day before off the rocks at Kapsali beach, eating meatballs with tomato sauce for lunch, and fighting off hornets and wasps with a fly swatter during the interminable "siesta hour."
Little by little, my life became organized around this increasingly long ritual trip. The choice of my studies, then my work... All to have the freedom to swim to the tip of Limnionas one evening in July, to admire the enormous sun crashing into the sea, and to hold onto that vision until the following year.
When I am in Paris, Kythira is constantly on my mind. When? What dates? How long this year? Waiting for Kythira... Finally, I'm here, stretching time. Early mornings, late nights, short sleeps. I watch for the plane that is supposed to take me back, selfishly hoping it will pass the airport and turn around. An extra hour, sometimes a day, and all the better if the next boat to Athens is in three days.
When it's time to leave, we try to take a bit of it with us, to make the wait less long, to extend the trip until we return. We bring back oil, salt, and herbs. Honey, dishes, and fabrics. Everything from fennel to chairs. Some have even adopted a dog there.
That's precisely what I propose to share with you: visions, landmarks, guides for memory. I hope these drawings will allow you, as they do for me, to anchor your memories, so that even when you're not there, you still are.
