Michael N. McGregor | February 2, 2016
“All actual life is encounter.” — Martin Buber, I and Thou.
IT WAS THE ISLAND I encountered first — in January of 1985, one day after I turned 27. I had seen a movie set in Greece in high school: people in summer clothes on motorbikes, sunshine through the silver flutter of a eucalyptus. A woman I had met in college had described her time there as all languid ease and warmth. I’d envisioned lazy sun, a balmy breeze, a bungalow beside the sea, with sand and sunsets out my writing window. I’d spent three days in chilly Athens already, but I thought somehow the islands were immune to winter.