Island as a soul

The island itself is already a symbol. It is like a soul: closed and open at the same time. Cut off from the mainland, but facing the sky, as if created to be a microcosm. With its shadows, light, silence, sounds, dust and wind. Corfu became exactly such an island for me. My soul in reality. I lived here for three years - and every day was a new touch.

It has it all: mountains in the silver of olive trees, paths that disappear into gorges, soft peaks and unexpected cliffs. Sometimes – deserted silence. Sometimes – the luxury of blooming bougainvillea, the buzzing of wasps, cautious lizards, dust smelling of the sun and the ringing, clean sea. This is an island not only of landscapes, but also of states. As if it knows how to be with you in what you are feeling now.

They say these olive groves were once created by hands. I don’t believe it. Because there are too many of them – they are everywhere: on the slopes, in the crevices, and even on the rocks. They have grown together too organically with the earth, with the air, with the smell. Maybe this is also a miracle. Or a memory of someone’s love, embodied in the trees.

Corfu is small - 60 by 25 kilometers. But its roads are not in a hurry. They twist, climb, lead into the unknown. Sometimes you have to drive behind an old car, barely crawling uphill, and it seems that time slows down too. But that's when you see the island - for real.

Every day I discovered new places. We drove from one end to the other - and each turn gave a new name, a new color, a new feeling. Kassiopi , where the sea seems like a mirror. Kalamaki - with soft sand and the smell of salt. Perithia - half-abandoned, but preserving the old dignity. Acharavi , Agios Spyridonos , Roda , Sidari , Peroulades - each village is like a letter: short, different, but always real. In one village - the wind and the smell of anise. In another - crimson rocks. In a third - women in black and an old church where the lamp still burns.

And always - the sea. Sometimes quiet, like breathing. Sometimes wild, knocking you off your feet. On one side - the Ionian. On the other - the Adriatic. Sometimes - calm, like glass. And sometimes - waves, like a voice.

I didn't try to understand. I just rode. I looked. I remembered. Look, soul. Fill yourself with light. Become a quiet hallelujah.