Amorio, may 2010.
This is where the story ends..., or does it begin?
Returning for the funeral of my father to the village he has left more than 50 years ago, a small village in North-Eastern Greece, I have been haunted by the atmosphere of the secular Thraki, where the strong culture is blending Greek & Eastern heritages.
Being born in Brussel, I was not raisen up in this culture. It was the reminiscence of my father's story, something far away which didn't mean so much for us.
In Amorio, I was invited by a musician of the village to perform with him on the long summer nights some old greek tunes I heard in my childhood.
I realize suddenly I was just walking on my father steps, just in another way, like travelling his way on the other direction, with my background as a reggae singer and my personal rendition of greek songs.
It compelled me where was truly my home... Was it this ancestor's place to which I was rather a foreigner? Was it the place and culture where I grew up?
And finally... where can ever one say he's feeling home...?
Where was that?
I found an answer with this musical project: Home(s) of Blues