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On the last day of the year, Eleftheria was thinking about how to approach him, how to touch his heart, and perhaps with just one glance, inspire him with something from her own depths, from her own "mineral wealth." A wealth inherited from her ancestors and the magical mountains of her homeland. A wealth that, like precious stones, required deep digging and years of searching to uncover. She felt the difference between them was vast.

She, a young woman, radiated when she had the opportunity to share her energy through respectful love. She had learned from lifelong companions, such as Dostoevsky, that this was one of the most powerful—if not the most powerful—forces on the planet: respectful love. Her life had always centered around people.

He, a man of indeterminate age, had inherited different views and habits from his ancestors. Protestant ethics held his hand as they walked through life together. Many times, he felt the presence of this morality was unbearable.

His name was Joris, and he hailed from a northern European country, one reminiscent of Ibsen's works, where souls search for light through the cracks of their space-time. His life was planned to the last minute. There wasn’t a day he didn’t check his agenda. He knew from the previous year where he’d go on summer vacation, for how many days, and where he’d stay. He knew what he’d eat every day at the office, at what age he’d marry, and how many children he’d have. He was financially secure well into his old age. He climbed the corporate ladder step by step, but to what end? He thought he understood love, passion, and freedom. His financial security allowed him to travel, experience cultures worldwide, and this uplifted his morale, adding some substance and surprise to his otherwise predictable reality. Deeply ingrained in him was the phrase, "Time is money." Work always dictated his free time.

He struggled to understand how deeply he knew his own culture, the essence of his own being. Life had brought him this girl, who burst into his soul's path like a firework just when he needed her most.

Eleftheria felt uncomfortable when she was with him. She found it hard to approach him because he didn’t understand the depth of her soul. When she spoke of metaphysics and philosophy, he changed the subject, preferring to focus on organizing his space and time. To connect with him, she started talking about her country, Greece, which he loved in a way she still couldn’t grasp.

"Maybe he loves my country like a teenager just starting to learn how to fall in love," she thought, suspecting the lightness of his being, which she wondered if he found unbearable.

Joris loved taking vacation in Mediterranean countries, especially Greece.

“What draws you to go on holiday to my country so often?” she asked out of curiosity.

“The fact that you don’t plan your day in advance,” he replied.

“In Greece, I feel like time doesn’t exist, especially on the islands. I live a whole life in a single day,” he added.

She wanted to teach him everything about the magic of this sacred place. She spoke to him about the differences between linear and cyclical time, about Greek philosophers, particularly Heraclitus, and the idea that “everything is in constant flux and opposition.”

Meanwhile, she tried to understand—or rather feel—what his psyche offered her. Gradually, she began to realize that precisely this contrast between their cultures was an invaluable gift to her. Through Joris, she understood her own psyche more deeply.

“Your country is a refuge for me, a place that gives me the momentum to fly,” she often told him.

Driven by respectful love she felt for him, she started talking to him about humanity’s heritage, the enigma of the Sphinx, the traditions of her ancestors, such as the symposium.

“What is a symposium?” he asked one day.

“It’s the habit of gathering with friends to enjoy each other’s company and exchange ideas about life. There’s no purpose behind it—or maybe the purpose is so sacred it can only be experienced empirically from a young age,” she replied.

His rigid soul began to soften, absorbing the “divine” drop by drop. Eleftheria continued to speak about Socrates’ daimonion and the parts of the soul.

Joris made the bold decision to quit his corporate job and pursue theater. Over time, through theater, he saw his soul find peace. He began to live without being on autopilot. His country, being quite wealthy, and given that he had evolved into a successful director of visual theater, provided him with generous funding for research.

He decided to invest this funding in a journey to Greece to discover moments steeped in the flow of Heraclitus and, upon returning, to incorporate them into his performances. In other words, he wanted to capture moments of happiness and bliss.

Through his travels in Greece, he realized that this country was not merely a place, but a nation—a cradle of ideas, a gift to Western civilization. He desired to explore it further. He had come to understand that life is worth living with a focus on humanity, meaningful and profound interactions with those around you, love, and harmony.

He resolved to approach life every day with this attitude, to embrace spontaneity and authenticity. “Perhaps in this way, I can also contribute my little part to the harmony of this world,” he thought.

Thus, through art, he began to see more clearly and to gradually unfold his own wings to take flight.