Manolis Rasoulis used to travel a lot to explore the world and write music. We are close friends and fellow travellers in some journeys and found out we have a common artisitc purpose. He had his pen and I had my camera to express the world and people's lives. We met for the last time a few days before he died, when he was reciting a prologue during a music event for Manos Hadjidakis at the haunt of "Ianos" bookshop. "When one loses limits one must take measures" he said among other things to the audience, referring to the economic crisis that's plaguing our country.

When you knock on someone's door in Crete a smiling face comes into sight saying: "Welcome, have some raki". Offering raki is like an invitation to a more intimate approach and communication among people. Especially people who take part to the production “ritual” of the drink reach high levels of comradeship.

"The greatest satisfaction for me here in Venice is when I see the joy on young scholars' faces, every time they discover files related to the historical course of Hellenism in the Institute's libraries".

"I have written fifteen books and four more containing articles I wrote and were published in newspapers. I don't try to publish all of them because I couldn't sell more than twenty or thirty. I am satisfied with giving a photocopy to my children and some friends".

"I don't fear the sea at all and the possibility of me drowning never crosses my mind. Whenever I can't see the sea, even from afar, I feel afraid and think I'm dying. I was once taken to Panagia Sumela church inMacedoniaa and I hardly managed not to go crazy in the mountains. I suppose that Holy Mary saved me".

"I studied economics and my dream was to work with agricultural associations, but I ended up being an accountant in a plumbing association. I didn't like this job, I didn't like Athens either, and I was always looking for a chance to leave. I couldn't feel free in this city, I couldn't assimilate the images and the messages, and I was totally lost. When I became 28 years old I realised that I had been walking the wrong way and decided to reset my odometer. I was done with education and I was done with the jobs that didn't offer any meaning to my life".

"I dig with a pickaxe and make a cave in which I keep my wines. Among other elements, Santorini's soil contains pumice stone. The pickaxe I use is slightly different than the standard ones; it was specially made by a Roma blacksmith. The island's caves remained intact after the catastrophic earthquake of 1956; they're safe and cool. The day before yesterday the temperature in my concrete garage was 29 degrees Celsius while in the cave it was only 19".

“I woke up one morning and found a small camera next to my pillow, a gift from my uncle who was a photographer. I immediately went out and took photos of the neighbourhood. I remembered that film is light-sensitive, so I entered a closet and unfolded it, thinking that this way I will get to see the pictures. But I wasn’t able to see in the dark so I opened the closet's door a little, but still I couldn’t make them out. Completely disappointed, I headed to the neighbourhood photographer, in Heraklion of Crete. I showed him the unfolded film but instead of photos he 'treated' me to a rude gesture. He teased me relentlessly for years, even more so when I became a known photographer”.

"Since I was a child, olive trees used to remind me of ancient crowns. It was a long time untyil 2004, when on the occasion of the Olympic Games, the Academy of Athens asked me to make two wedding wreaths out of olive branches. They wanted to expose them in the "In Praise of the Olive" exhibition which connected the olive tree to birth, marriage and death".

"I'm not a gold-silversmith, just a silversmith. Since my youth I didn't like school, maybe it was because of the way teachers treated and punished us. In 1971 I went to Athens and apprenticed for two and a half years near a craftsman from Ioannina. I remember him advising me: Put 70% of artistry and 30% of manufacture. He was right, if I put 100% artistry I wouldn't find a buyer, but if I cared more about the manufacturing process I wouldn't keep the art alive".

"In order to understand an art you have to study its roots. That is the reason why, on numerous occasions, I travelled to Thrapsano of Heraklion Crete, the “centre” of pottery from the ancient times. I also went to Margarites of Rethymnon where I had the chance to study under Nicholaos Kavgalakis, also known as Mastrokavgalakis, a great craftsman and a good man willing to talk to me. Others don't answer questions fully. I was trained to Charokopio, Vounaria and Compoi of Koroni, under George Aggelopoulos. There they make jars using only local soil and in a completely primitive way. They don't even use a wheel. The jar doesn’t spin around in front of them, the craftsmen go around it”.

Ever since he was a child, lyre player Manolis Diamantakis, from Fourfouras village of Amari, Rethymnon, had an inclination to music. The only problem was that he had neither a lyre nor a bow. In the beginning, he made a makeshift lyre out of pear tree wood, with strings made of leather straps. He used horsetail hairs for the bow and struggled to play.

“I play music many hours a day. I start in the morning with the violin and then I go on with the piano. During the summer I stop for a while to swim and then I play the violin again”. Antonis Prekas from Emporio of Santorini is the son of the famous lute player Kyriakos and the grandson of the great violinist Antonis.

"I used to be naive and romantic. I thought that through music I would be able to share the pain and the joy with my friends, but I was disappointed. Some people use music as a weapon and they fight amongst themselves. We don’t want any part of this. We close our eyes and sing, not looking at the cameras when they turn towards us".

Into the deep fir forest of Maenalus, which looks like a jungle, there's the small village called Elati. One of the ten residents left in the village, is Leonidas Zafeiropoulos, the man who has raised a flag portraying Theodoros Kolokotronis at the entrance of his shop.