Snow
He was the only one I had, although I couldn’t recognize him.
He went away and came back. “Someday you’ll also return.”
He said, “But no one will be here,” then he talked to me of his
mother’s green dress, and he emphasized the word green as if
he defended the whole world; other times, he kneeled and asked
for the forgiveness of the centuries of grief and the women who later
descended to do the laundry were forgotten in a great shine and
as it started snowing, I opened the Gospel
but it was snowing in it as well.
Manolis Aligizakis 