The café has understood that in our case milk is as pointless as the straw.
It is sad to leave now when we finally have tuned them right.
Still some time left to read. I finish Asimov and continue with Marc Aurel. We empty the fridge, wave to the café people and take a salad close to the port.
From the ferry company’s office we get the magical forms that protect people from Covid. We have come a long way from spraying holy water and crossing ourselves. Later on the ferry they interest no-one and the only miracle is that I happen to sit next to a man who reads the same Marc Aurel's book in old Greek.
In darkness we arrive in Piraeus and take the metro to Spata. A suburb of Athens. The metro station is located on a motorway bridge where the locals take their cars and drive off into the night. We try to get a cab but the driver doesn’t stop after we have waited for him for 15 minutes. So we get another. He is very polite and brings us to the right street to a wrong house.
After some marching around we find a lovely garden house with old books and ready-made sandwiches. Flowers smell outside.