I live on the outskirts of a traditional village in Mani, Peloponnese. Nomitsi. Far from the tourists and with a magnificent view of the coast! But I’m really a big city resident: born in Warsaw, Poland. If I get tired of living in a village with 100 inhabitants? No, I enjoy not being anonymous anymore and that the aunt I pass calls me ”my dear child”…..
“In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities; people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class; every hour carries its new challenge. When you pass the inn at the end of the village you leave your favourite whimsy behind you; for you will meet no one who can share it. We listen to eloquent speaking, read books and write them, settle all the affairs of the universe. The dumb village multitudes pass on unchanging; the feel of the spade in the hand is no different for all our talk: good seasons and bad follow each other as of old. The dumb multitudes are no more concerned with us than is the old horse peering through the rusty gate of the village pound. (”Village Ghosts”)”― W.B. Yeats
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