On one dark blue midnight in the late summer of 1971, I climbed down the ladder of the Evangelistria, a rusty old tub of a ship, and set foot on the soil of Paros, a medium-size island in the Aegean Sea. I had been drawn to the island by pictures of many-colored fishing boats and snow-white cubical houses, and was curious about the people who created such beauty. I intended to stay three weeks. I stayed, the first time, five years., and have visited often since then, fascinated by the island culture-at once spare and joyous, traditional but alive, pragmatic but grounded in spirituality. This...
On one dark blue midnight in the late summer of 1971, I climbed down the ladder of the Evangelistria, a rusty old tub of a ship, and set foot on the s...
