“What time is it?”
“Twenty-five to three.”
“Shit, I didn’t realise it was so late.”
“It’s not so late. You are so young!”
“I’m not so young. I’m twenty-seven.”
On the way home, we talk about youth and life and happiness.
“You don’t remember the nights you didn’t get enough sleep, dear. Life is friends and conversation. Let your experiences overflow. Fill your soul. Wealth is not about money. Write. You cannot write in Greece because you are too busy living. But where else are you to go? What will you write about in Australia? Kangaroos? London? You wrote in London because you had to stay indoors. This is the country of creativity. Take it from me. I have been all over the world but nothing compares to Greece. Find a good man. Let him love you. Love will inspire you. You will not find him hanging around the same bars in the suburbs. Go out. Live. Write. You are young. Talk to people. Date. Connect. As long as you feed your soul, you will be okay.”
“That’s all life’s about, honey.”
“I know. I try. You know, you’re an old soul.”
“Listen to what I tell you!”
“You’re a very old soul and you know it! Old souls always recognise each other.”
“Goodnight, honey! Filakia!*”
On nights like this I am convinced that cab-drivers are messengers of The Universe.
The Harmony of Pythagoras: How Pythagoras discovered harmony, ergo, music.
|Φιλάκια – Filakia – Little kisses|