Once, years ago, K. had leaned over a well with a woman. Their two faces shimmered for a moment above the dark, shiny, trembling waters, one pressed close to the other. And immediately K. felt that he loved this woman.

Once a pasha invited a poor man to dine with him. He placed a plate of olives and a plate of black caviar in front of him. The poor man did not even turn to look at the olives; he dove headfirst into the caviar. "Eat some olives too, my friend," the pasha said to him. "Caviar is good, my pasha," replied the poor man, still munching away.

In China, K. had seen a painting of unspeakable delicacy, titled: "The evening bell tolling in a distant temple." You could see neither temple nor bell. Only a calm landscape, slightly golden, covered by a blue air. When the caterpillars think of you, my God, they become butterflies!

A wandering through the universe of Nikos Kazantzakis, a mosaic of 259 allegories scattered throughout his entire work: in novels, travel writings, and even in his correspondence. The essence of the wisdom of the great author, drawn from the monks of Mount Athos, the Jewish tradition, the Tao, Zen, ancient Greek philosophy, the people of Crete, the history of modern Greece, and also from world history.