“It was not for you, Menelaus, that Helen was...” Odysseus once told me. “It was for no one. How can one bear such beauty?” His words sounded convincing. That I was suffocated by her beauty or her sorrow or her confused, unquenchable soul. They convinced me. But it was not true. Listen to my truth. I let her go because I loved her. And I knew, I felt, I longed for her to restart her life differently.
What does it mean to love? Damn it if you have pronounced this verb five times in your entire life, four of those for your mother. You tremble at it – you have been taught to tremble at it. To love means to become the one I love. Her fate is my fate. If Helen were to die, my heart would be buried. When I saw her set sail with Paris, a fresh, cool breeze blew within me. “That little bastard stole your wife!” I laugh. Did Helen belong to me? We own nothing – the past? the future? whatever we can embrace or carry on our backs? no! nothing, nothing!
We only have the moment. And to prevent it from slipping away, we crush it in the palm of our hands. I did not crush the moment. I let it flutter away from me. Our story was stained with blood and lies. Everything happened differently from what you have heard, yet it happened, and it will happen again a thousand thousand times until the end of the world – and so? Do you find anything beautiful in that? Beautiful was the sunset when Helen slipped away with Menelaus. Beautiful was the dawn that opened over the sea with Paris. Surrendered to her divine joy. Leaving everything behind her. That’s what the bards should sing.
Manufacturer
- Author
- CHristos A. CHomenidis
- Publisher
- Patakis
- Publishers
- Patakis
- Type
- Prose
- Cover
- Soft
- Number of Pages
- 416
- Release Date
- 5/2020
- Publication Date
- 2020
- Dimensions
- 14x21 cm
- ISBN-13
- 9789601687223
Important information
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