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The red earth of Thessaly clings to the boots of the men in the barn, it crunches lightly on the concrete underfoot; some falls from the eldest, 90, as he leans forward in his chair to talk...

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The children run in bursts through the tiled corridors that line the inner courtyard. Their shoes clatter and echo; once they have gone the sound drifts into silence, into which returns the gentle hum of bees...

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These young friends have met for years to play tavli. The venue changes weekly. As the games unfold, so too does the exchange of scandal and intrigue, and slowly the noise increases. Which contributes most to the volume, tavli or intrigue? That is hard to say...

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A young man sits on a step. Next to him is a battered thermos. He wears a shirt of fine cotton. The sun moves ever closer to the step. Two young boys hover near him. One holds a football, is tall. The other is plump, red faced. They shift from foot to foot...

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The young stallholder does his best. The people press forward. Bright green herbs are changing hands in bunches, the air is thick with scent. Behind him a man sits on a tiled wall reading a book. A brimmed hat hides his face from the crowd and protects him from the sun...

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