He had heard about the martyr who had folded himself with the flag and fallen from Acropolis so that he wouldn’t surrender it to the barbarians.
Then they told him that the barbarians had placed their own flag in the position of the blue and white.
And he felt inside him the rage for this act.
He knew though that it belonged to the past.
And now that he was walking up the Acropolis after the battles, he knew that it would no longer exist.
Because barbarity had lost the fight and had abandon its position.
So when he faced the marble temples, he smiled again.
After so many years, they were free again.
He admired the Parthenon.
And he remained silent.
Gradually with their sacrifices, beauty gained courage and returned beside the truth fearing no longer.
Actually one of their photographers, told them to sit beside the Caryatides
of Erechtheion.
So the bicolored sun shone again between the ancient women.
Two civilizations were together because they were fighting the same barbarity.
Two edges of the world were together against barbarian regime of the center.
The lateral attacks had yielded and the hostile forces were going away.
It was then that the it happened and the photograph that would return to his places after decades to decorate another crossroad beyond the infinite blue; beside the ocean:
He was sad because he was thinking of his fellow fighters that had fallen so far from their homeland.
And that was evident in the lens.
But he didn’t succumb and he grabbed the marble of beauty.
He caressed it as he carved the wood.
It was hard and cold like the winter that had passed.
But it had the niceness of spring with its sacrifices so that the whole world relives after the destruction.
He remembered the tradition of the Spartans when they would die on the battlefield and he imagined his people in their positions.
And there he let out a cry of humanness.