(Greek inscription on the painting from the unpublished manuscript of Dimitri Tsavalas, Sophia’s father.  Translation below.)

Prologos

“The years pass. Inexorably onward.  And there comes an instant when you stop to take a breath.  You turn your head to see your brothers, sisters, friends, grandchildren, nephews, kin who have been traveling life alongside you.  Then the breath-taking surprise, you are left alone.  It is at this moment that you realize at last that the years have gone forever.  A life has been lived.  An overpowering urge comes upon you – somehow to relive that life together with all those who have loved you and whom you have loved.

Then you sit down, mop your forehead, close your eyes, and attempt the futile gesture of embracing the tree of the family, digging your nails in the bark, down the trunk, down to the roots, down – deep – deep to Souli, to Epirus, there where the Tsavalas seed began.”