Αdvices from a fireman

 

Το θερμικό που δημιουργείται μπορεί να φτάσει μέχρι και τους 800 (οκτακόσιους) βαθμούς Κελσίου.
Όλα λιώνουν.
Βασική αρχή δεν χάνεις την ψυχραιμία σου.
Βάζεις σε σένα και σε όποιον έχεις δικό σου μαζί βρεγμένη πετσέτα ή μπλούζα στο πρόσωπο και φεύγεις όσο η φωτιά είναι ακόμα μακριά.
Πιάνεις πορεία προς στη θάλασσα.

Εάν δεν υπάρχει, πας όπου υπάρχει τσιμέντο.
Πυλωτές σπιτιών, πλατείες, γήπεδα μπάσκετ κ.λπ.

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The heat generated can reach up to 800 (eight hundred) degrees Celsius.
Everything is melting.
The basic principle is that you do not lose your temper.
You put on yourself and anyone who has your own wet towel or blouse on your face and you leave as long as the fire is still far away.
You are heading for the sea.

If it does not exist, where there is cement.
Households, squares, basketball courts, etc. Continue reading

Morning in the Burned House

 

For those who don’t understand,
For those who remember,
For those who can’t forget….

Για τις ψυχές των συνανθρώπων μας που χάθηκαν τόσο άδικα και για όσους απέμειναν καλή δύναμη μέσα από την καρδιά μας!

For the souls of our fellow human beings that have been lost so unfairly and for those who have left good strength through our hearts!

In the burned house I am eating breakfast.
You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,
yet here I am.

The spoon which was melted scrapes against
the bowl which was melted also.
No one else is around.

Where have they gone to, brother and sister,
mother and father? Off along the shore,
perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers,

their dishes piled beside the sink,
which is beside the woodstove
with its grate and sooty kettle,

every detail clear,
tin cup and rippled mirror.
The day is bright and songless,

the lake is blue, the forest watchful.
In the east a bank of cloud
rises up silently like dark bread.

I can see the swirls in the oilcloth,
I can see the flaws in the glass,
those flares where the sun hits them.

I can’t see my own arms and legs
or know if this is a trap or blessing,
finding myself back here, where everything

in this house has long been over,
kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl,
including my own body,

including the body I had then,
including the body I have now
as I sit at this morning table, alone and happy,

bare child’s feet on the scorched floorboards
(I can almost see)
in my burning clothes, the thin green shorts

and grubby yellow T-shirt
holding my cindery, non-existent,
radiant flesh. Incandescent!

 


Μargaret Atwood

More than 80 people have been killed after Greece’s worst wildfire in a decade hit the small resort of Mati, 18 miles east of Athens.

The fire broke out on the afternoon of 23 July, with strong winds causing the fire to spread quickly towards the beach. Continue reading