Greece cannot be packed in a suitcase.




Morning light on the Acropolis? Unbaggable. This white which is not really white, this blue which we try to find everywhere afterwards; impossible to bend in four. And yet, we leave with all that.
In the alleys of Monastiráki, a van honks its horn, laundry dances above our heads, a cat sleeps on a hot stone. Life, what! Simple, loud, radiant.
That's what we remember: Greece's way of making everything beautiful, effortlessly.
We leave the frenetic pace in the locker room. We learn to put things: a cup of fresh coffee on the morning table, a cushion in the shade of a terrace, a book that we haven't finished. These are the moments that we slip into our luggage.





What do we bring back? Memories in your eyes, and a furious desire to redecorate everything.




























