A hundred kilometres north of Athens, in an abandoned quarry on top of a hill, with the view to the sea and the mountain beyond, huge blocks of stone pepper the landscape.
They lie reminiscent of ancient, never completed, dolmens.
My father died of cancer following two months of rapid physical decay. I moved his weak body in and out of his bed, several times every hour, for three weeks.
The weight of the quarry blocks reminds me of his heavy body. Their jagged edges find a match in his protruding bones.
I repeatedly pulled on these dolmen slabs, as I kept pulling him out of his bed, wanting to lift him out of sickness, with great effort and in vain.
My father’s dolmen was set in place one May evening at 9:10PM.
Act repeatedly knowing that your actions will yield negligible results
Maintain balance and composure in the face of insurmountable obstacles
Hold your breath when in between the jagged stone edges and protruding bones
Decorate, with effort, that which you cannot amend