Ariadne's Thread

Imagine the soft sound of distant bouzouki. Imagine the soft wind that gives that double-stringed lute its true Cretan accent, breathing through pungent herbs. The sound is slow and languorous at first, but the wind picks up a rising tempo. LIGHTS! CAMERAS! ACTION! A film crew labors outside the harbor at Agios Nikolaos as a weather front sweeps in from the Levant, darkening our Cretan sky and piling waves against the breakwaters. Now, sing you tragic chorus! Sing of the rescue helicopters and of anxious villagers watching from the cypress tossed cliff top and on the television in Yannis' taverna. Sing then of the two who dove into the sea that fated day. Sing of the dark-haired Ariadne and the fair free spirit Amee, of the young actor Joel and his lost father, of the aging matinee idol William Severinghouse and the directeres of this "send up of reality," Jean Paul Yablonski. Sing of the manipulating Seth and the seeress Madam Metis. Spin now this tale of Eros and Thanatos, of murder and revenge, of destruction, catastrophe, love and resurrection. Speed us now to that season when it all began—
Join me on this wild vacation from "reality" as we travel from the stages of Ashland, Oregon, to the cafes of Paris and thence to Florence, Italy, Assisi, the French Riviera and finally to the mystic island of Crete.