“Still walking” — I haven’t arrived, nor have I stopped. A continuous motion, where the body keeps going while the soul lingers behind.
A man in a suit walks mechanically along the seafront of Thessaloniki. His pace is hurried, his body confined in a uniform that feels out of place — a “man of the city” dragging with him the speed, pressure, and silent erosion of daily life. Beside him, the sea — still, indifferent, almost ironic — offers no comfort. Are we walking toward something, or simply moving forward so we don’t collapse?