The narrator reflects on yearly visits to a clifftop temple with their father, a man of ancestry intertwined with oppression and exploration. Capturing memories through photography, the father admires the ruins, while the adult child grapples with unexpressed emotions and the need for restraint. Conversations are formal, hinting at deeper tensions, as they share meals and observe the beauty of the ancient site. The sunset transforms the Aegean Sea, illuminating the complexity of their bond and the weight of unspoken truths.
My father captures all on film: leafless fig trees, then the marble column engraved with Byron's name. Graffiti from 1810! he exclaims, as if it is the first time.
Now I'm an adult, restraining the impulse to elegize what is still alive. And yet this is what I will remember him as, I decide: the black camera steadying his hands.
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