Bumped into this album yesterday. It's titled 'stories without words'. It's playing in the apartment. I cut the Christmas tree into pieces today. It's cold but sunny here today. Sending a hug from Athens

Johnny sees the children of Gaza lost of limbs lost of schools lost of families hungry

He sees the world he sees immigrants hovering, frightened he sees churches invaded he sees the ice that shouldn't be melting

Johnny give us the strength it's you it's yearning it's hope it calls out:

I am the arrow! look out motherfuckers at my arrow

at 12:00, late, I am walking towards the main square it is September, a Wednesday as tourists have left, and the streets become a meeting space for locals, Chora feels calmer and clearer a group of people is gathering for Palestina for Tempi for Pylos for justice I stand still and join looking at the placards I can't read listening to the speeches and scants I can't understand

I am happy to be here I felt I wanted to protest today but felt stuck on the Island but I am reminded: our cry for justice is shared, everywhere

We are dispersed over the square standing grouped together wherever a tree provides shade elderly are holdings self-made signs children are running around playing football people know each other

in the crowd of around 150 people I see Alex we say hi and have a chat everything is fine for the vegetables he smiles he knows a lot of people it makes me think of Rodrigue local farmers creating community

after a minute of silence we start walking through the Main Street of Chora although having walked that street so many times since a little boy this time feels different, looks different my first protest on Andros I feel connected to the place and its people shared hopes and dreams a need for a different future

an old woman sitting on a straw-seat chair outside of the butcher's shop with blue doors on the right just before entering the square at the end of the street shouts 'well done' in Greek

Today I wasn't late I was right on time