Across from the Asia Minor shores, on the southeastern coast of Lesvos, opposite the small islets of Myrsinia, somewhere between the calm coves of Tarti and Ligonari, a wild limestone mass rises – older in geological time than anything else on the island, and more tormented by nature, inside and out, as if carrying its own name within it: Talantos.

And if you try to climb to the top, nearly two hundred meters above the sea, you’ll understand what I mean. For there is nowhere else on Lesvos so fiercely untamed, so mysteriously beautiful, and yet so serenely quiet. And if you sit there for a while, eyes closed, on the wrinkled grey-blue rock, the place begins to speak. Above, hawks and seagulls sing without pause. Below, waves crash into hollows and caves; fish and dolphins leap for a heartbeat and disappear, boats cast their nets, the sky turns and hums, sage perfumes the air, yellow autumn lilies bloom stubbornly from stone, and from afar, a partridge or wild goat might watch you silently.

Kazim stone

There, on Talantos, among wild olives, sage, and garlic blossoms, rests the trace of Kazim’s soul, a man who set out from the continent across the water, but whose fate left him there forever.
A humble and wordless shrine built by his people in his memory: a pile of broken stones from Talantos, his name carved slowly, stubbornly, lovingly into them – KAZIM.

Infant, child,........

© Middle East Monitor