To meteoro vima tou pelargou (The Suspended Step of the Stork)

Travelling on an assignment to the frontier,

I kept thinking about the incident at the Pireas.

Bodies of asian refugees in the sea,

after Greek authorities

refused to grant them political asylum...

Their determination to jump to their deaths, from a greek ship

abord which they had been discovered,

in the open seas, while crossing the Pacific...

How does one leave?

Why? Where to?

Is it like in that old song?

"And don't forget that the time to leave has come."

"The wind will carry your eyes far away"

- How are you, Lieutenant ? - Very good, my Colonel.

I'm not afraid of the border

but of a misstep that could be fatal.

The time has stopped here.

I can't hear anything but the river's roar, the night.

Do you know what a border is?

Greece ends at that blue line.

If I make another step,

I am 'outside'...

or I die.

Can you hear it?

No.

Come with me.

This is the third time I catch you doing this.

Be careful. If I find you once more, I'll book you in.

Don't you understand or what?

A year ago, a carton of cigarettes flowing in the river

caused a collision with those from the other side and... ten deaths.

Can you see where the trade here leads? Nothing can stop them.

Go, scram. Beat it!

- How are you, son? - Very good, Sir.

Can you see that snow-covered little village?

That village is the closest to the border.

People around here call it "the waiting room".

Why?

An abandoned part of the village has been a shelter

for a few years now, to refugees from various,

neighbouring and other countries;

Kurdes, Turks, Albanians,

Poles, Romanians, Iranians;

who crossed the border illegaly.

The Greek government housed them in that part of the village,

but, over time, their numbers increased

until they took over the whole village.

They are waiting for visas to repatriate elsewhere.

And, for them, that 'elsewhere' acquired a strange meaning...

Mythical.

Where have you been, old chap?

I was just looking around at the market.

Are you with them? Do I know you?

Ah... I saw you on TV, is that right?

That's right...

That's right?

One

Three

Seven... seven... seven...

...Nine

- Are you filming? - Yes.

A Kurd:

We had to leave our country

under the threat of chemical weapons.

When we arrived to the river at the greek-turkish border,

we could not go any further.

An Albanian:

My Calvary started at the moment when I crossed the border.

As I knew that I had left the death behind me

and that I was to regain freedom,

I ran like never in my life. I could not belive

that I had the strength to run so fast.

An Iranian: I would have never imagined

that one day I would want the Moon to die.

I can clearly remember

how, at one moment, I wanted that the Moon would die,

so that she wouldn't show, and betray me with her light

and get me caught.

Without doubt, that was the fear of death.

No doubt because the road behind me

was a synonym for death.

The death that awaited me...

had I not been able to escape...

Why twice?

I'm sure that I know that man.

So what?

Nothing. Continue.

When you are done, return to the same image.

Here are other Region E photos, and there too.

Do you need anything else? - No.

Excuse me, but I never mastered Greek.

Shall we go?

Our tonight's programme presents an event...

The leaders of the three major political parties,

assembled together for the first time:

a meeting of historical importance:

That could change...

"Melancholy of the end of the century".

Instead of a preface.

Why couldn't we assume that at the moment that I'm writting this,

it is December 31, 1999?

Let's start again.

Should we play the music, or keep on with talking?

I repeat.

Our programme...

One.. two... three..

Are you still there?

What about the big boss?

He is trying to outdo politicians' desires.

There he comes.

I was looking for you.

I need the crew for another two-three days.

We'll see.

I uncovered something.

Something very important.

Why are you sitting in the dark?

I'm dead tired. Ten hours of repetition.

I've never seen anything like that.

And then, the music was out of synch.

Are you leaving again?

Listen how his book ends,

with a question:

By which cues could we spark

a new collective dream?

I wish you good health and happiness,

but I can not join in your voyage.

I am just a visitor.

Everything I touch hurts me deeply.

And I don't feel I belong:

The door was open. We are waiting for you downstairs.

"I don't have anything that is mine"

as I arrogantly said one day.

Now I've learned that nothing is nothing.

Who was that?

Ah... sorry!

- That's screwed. - What are we going to do?

We'll carry on.

How does one leave?

Why? Where to?

- Hello. - Hello.

Listen, I'm looking for an old man

who sold you some potatoes some time ago.

What do you want me to say?

Do you know who I'm talking about?

From what I know, he's a refugee from Albania.

He lives in the refugee quarter.

Every two-three days he sells me some potatoes.

That's all I know.

Why don't you go to the coffee shop he frequents?

- Which coffee shop? - That one there.

Us locals, we don't have much contact with them.

That way..

Lately, you can't stay out of trouble.

But then...why did he leave?

Why one leaves and lets all fall to pieces?

If it is really him that you are looking for.

Just a moment! What are we interested in?

Whether he left or if it was him at all?

- Billiard! - Right on!

- Let's go! - Where?

We'll see.

- And you? - I'll catch up with you.

Excuse me.

I've been told that the refugees of Greek origin

frequent the tavern back there.

I'm looking for some information about one of them.

Do you understand me?

We're waiting for you.

OK, I'm coming.

It's day already.

You called me by some other name. Who is that?

I cried again?

I have to go.

I'm soaked and I lost my way...

I wouldn't want to disturb you.

I've brought the bread.

This time it wasn't a pain.

Take off your shoes.

Bring me the straw

These plants, they like the silence.

They are born and grow in obscurity...

You promised you'd tell me the story with the kite.

- Now? - Yes, now.

A bit more straw.

When the earth starts to burn,

because it is scorched by the sun,

humans will have to leave.

Then, what history will call

"The Great Migration" will happen.

They will leave the countries

where they live,

each as best as they could,

and they will gather again in the desert of the Sahara

There, a child will have released a kite,

very high in the sky.

Big and small will cling on to the cord,

and all the humanity will fly away

in search of another planet.

Each one will carry a small plant,

a rose tree, a handfull of wheat