Greek In the Big Apple

December 19th 2016 A year in the making... My dearest readers, After a small hiatus from writing, along with some medical surprises and much travelling. I'm resuming my commitment to putting ideas, stories and poems down on paper for all to read. Its been a very, crazy, strenuous, difficult and eventful year. I have had some moments of absolute joy and some moments of sorrow and sadness. Through all of those times one thing remained constant. My family and their love, my close friends and their undying support, my commitment to writing and my yoga practice.  Putting my thoughts and ideas down on paper so to speak, has been a very liberating and cathartic experience. Some of this very personal sharing, has been a growing and evolving practice, just like my yoga practice. Over these past four years, I've gone from a very shy writer, to slowly (ever so) finding my voice. I don't plan on publishing any books or short stories any time soon, there is still so

Dear Readers: This is a working copy of my first short story. Driven by images and people in my family that I very much wanted to share with you. The characters are all real, the names have changed even though most or all of them are now long departed. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She looked at her reflection in the mirror for a couple of minutes before adjusting her collar one more time. She gazed dutifully at her husband who was preparing for yet another mission with the Navy. It was two weeks before Christmas 1963, and Athens was deep in the throes of the pre-holiday festivities. The family held a huge party every year and everyone dressed up in their most elegant gowns. Pauline had placed her pearls just so, put on her bright red lipstick and wondered if he noticed her at all any more. She pressed her lips together, which accentuated her dimples, opened h

What of LOVE “Love is always open arms. If you close your arms about love you will find that you are left holding only yourself.”  ―  Leo Buscaglia There is bitter sweet love and passionate love, dirty love, clean love, sacred love, cheesy love, forgiving love, and brotherly love. Unrequited love, and motherly love, sisterly love, and love worth waiting for. There is love that can't wait any longer, love without words, erotic love, platonic love, dramatic love, blind love, secret love, the love that can drive you insane, and static love. There is the love to end all loves, and the love that got away. There is broken love, and soft love, and fatherly love, there is hard love, and kinky love, there is compassionate love, robust love, risky love and endless love. There is sweet love and long lasting love, and there is the love that was never spoken of. There is the beginning of love and the end of love. There is selfless love and crazy love, and above all there is self love. 

October 18th 2016  My dear readers Over the years I've taken random notes and observations and turned them into small poems. Some things are about nothing significant but have piled up in my drawer of writing samples. Recently I've been mulling around with the idea of writing a series of short stories based on my family. Names will be changed of course but the characters will be very true to the real people I'm drawing my inspiration from. Having taken a pile of family pictures from my home in Athens this past September, I've been quite inspired to tell a story of the women in my family.  Often overlooked, many were silent sufferers if you will, others very strong and unapologetic about being ahead of their time, others setting aside grand careers and their dreams to be good wives, good mothers, pleasing housewives but never selfishly looking to further their dreams, that were forever locked away in a drawer never to be seen again.   I recall stories

This middle of the week blog is a reflection to meeting with an old high school class mate at Williamsburg, Brooklyn. We set a day and a time and agreed to meet at N6 street near Driggs street. Its the center of all cool and trendy Williamsburg, dotted with countless, cafes, bars, restaurants, exhibit spaces for art, antiques and anything your heart could desire in terms of hip and cool fashion. I remember the first time I visited this part of Brooklyn back in 1999. It was like going to the ends of the earth. There were very few bars and clubs and it was mostly hungry artists living in lofts with no electricity or hot water. I went to an amazing night club and art space called Galapagos. I saw my first ever  Burlesque performance while I sipped my Cosmopolitan (yes it was very popular back then). It seemed like we were the early explorers of this still undiscovered land.  Fifteen years on Williamsburg is in my opinion a bit overdone and even too trendy. (Hipsters sighted often!) I f

This past August, I was preparing to leave for my annual trip to Athens. It's a trip I plan, anticipate, and long for all year. Yet again as I packed my suitcases and planned my travels, I was reminded of the fact that I too, like many of my fellow Greek friends am part of a modern diaspora. " I'm not quite Greek, and not fully American." We have chosen or were forced to leave. We could have stayed, we weren't escaping war, or famine, or relentless poverty, yet we took a risk and we traveled. We left our homes, our families, our friends. We detached from the comfortable and familiar and journeyed to places that would provide a more stable future, and a different if not always a better life. We went to where the opportunities were, and in most cases with no clear vision of our future. I left because It's something I've always done, I've lived my whole life between Greece and America.    My existence has been about living in two worlds, with tw

I have had a long pause from writing and posting of pictures,  yet so much has been happening this winter. Much like my dry spell for writing,  I've felt moments and bursts of inspiration among many moments of lull and lack of inspiration. I wanted to take it all in,  and be able to sit in silence as the images and the moments were imprinted in my mind. I must also be honest in sharing with you that after being a nomad  living out of my suitcases for so long, I have found moments of peace and connection in my new home, where I wanted to do nothing more than sit in silence, read, meditate, sleep late and allow for the days to pass without fanfare. Having a space that feels comforting and complete is a rare find in this city. After many months of moving from temporary home to temporary home I've found a place that IS home.   A sanctuary where no pretense is needed and where friends, family and cats yes cats, have gathered these last few months in moments of sharing and b