Kyriakos Vamvakopoulos

What does it mean to truly know a place? To claim ownership of a moment, a view, a slice of earth? The world outside is not static, not a postcard frozen in time, but a living, breathing entity in perpetual metamorphosis. The structure, I thought I knew yesterday, is not the same today. Each ray of sunlight, each whisper of wind, each passing cloud transforms it, imperceptibly. My memory and perception are nothing more than incomplete snapshots, fragile constructions of consciousness. How could I declare, with any certainty, that I know this place, this moment? The valley I observe is not just rock and earth, but a dynamic system of geological and seasonal shifts. The river is never the same water, never the same current, always moving and changing. And I—the observer—am equally fluid. My mood, my perspective, my very consciousness. The angle from which I watch, the emotional lens through which I perceive, the accumulated experiences that color my interpretation—all of these are in con...

Nestled 56 km north of Preveza town, Greece, Orraon stands as a testament to ancient engineering prowess and architectural grandeur. The monumental buildings, with their imposing walls and meticulously crafted small windows, echo tales of an era when construction wasn’t merely functional but an art form. These structures, towering and unyielding, have stood strong and vertical for thousands of years, sparking curiosity and admiration. Why did our ancestors choose this location? What explains a settlement in Greece without a theatre? Why were walls on the periphery constructed from three rows of massive stones, designed to fend off powerful enemies wielding more than just arrows and spears? What drove them to carve such massive blocks out of the earth and polish them to perfection? The precision in arranging these colossal stones is nothing short of extraordinary, leaving us to wonder: where has this technology vanished? Descending into the depths of Orraon , we encounter the water cha...