behold the hands

“Behold the hands, how they promise, conjure, appeal, menace, pray, supplicate, refuse, beckon, interrogate, admire, confess, cringe, instruct, command, mock and what not besides, with a variation and multiplication of variation which makes the tongue envious.”
-Michel de Montaigne

Sitting on the balcony: an early June sea-breeze reminds me how lucky I am to be here right now, despite the first mosquito bites. Humbert, the German guy renting the house opposite, is playing a soulful Benson tune with his guitar because his girlfriend left him halfway through their holidays. Men are still having heated discussions on politics in the kafeneion of the village, as if the village were deaf. And I am trying to remember that recipe for the kolokithopita I had promised you. Next time. There will be time, as T.S.Eliot says.

Since I came to Greece I have been cooking like Tselementes and I have been very privileged to witness some of the most amazing culinary preparations in kitchens where -mostly- females reside. I have seen, smelled, and heard the most amazing things: the inquisitive hands of my little one entwined in my aunt's skilled palms, trying to learn how to touch and feel, delightful stories about my mother when she was a child, customs that need to be given proper attention, foods that tempt you to taste them  

and shun dieting.

So many gifts

the hands 

bring

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