Ma solitude

When Moustaki gave a concert in Lisbon last year, the voice was not the same, but nobody cared. It was a memorable concert. It was touching to see that small figure on the stage, dressed in white, looking so old and frail, singing some of our favourite songs and 'taking us home'.

After the concert, my nationality opened the doors and I was the only person he accepted to see. He looked very tired. He greeted me in french, but then he asked me in greek where I was from. I answered; he smiled and said his grandmother was from my hometown.