My father had an excellent memory that he exercised often. He remembered dates, figures, names and faces, events and patterns. What was amazing was that he had an excellent memory of his visits to Greece, where he spent six or eight weeks a year. These memories filled his life. He was a good conversationalist and…
Conversations at Keza’s
“Gia sou Vasili. Ela. Ti nea? Ti na sou keraso?” Keza always greeted me almost like a son. Definitely like a nephew. His kafeneio is up in the village, a block away from the main square and church, in front of a triangle of roads where three roads meet in a low triangle. “Your health,…
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