"However the street of Hierotheou - this part in front of the orchards - has a completely unique composition. Perhaps it owes it to the flow of wind coming down from the mountain - ah, something rubs off the wind from the human mind, it even thins out the inanimate objects. On summer nights, while the other country suffocates in its heat, here the wind of the mountain blows and lashes the blood... Perhaps the other element, the dust, adds to its enchanting charm. The road was enveloped in a wave of veils, faces and situations took on a fluid, indefinite, ideal outline - trembling and iridescent like the stones and seaweed beneath the transparency of the sea..." [...]

Excerpt from "To Gyri" (1944)