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Peloponnese buying Heroin

What pushed me to come to Athens? Some strong student demonstrations which will finish to be dissolved under unusual rainfall. Here I am with nothing to do and unwilling to play tourist. The names of the streets call to mind famous men from a glorious past : Diogenes, Sophocles, Socrates, Euripides, Menandres. What I find there is the complete reverse, milling about; stolen cellular phones, phone cards, cloths, kickers and cheap watchs sellers, and here and there drug dealing and fixing. Nothing would have prepared me to that. The last five days of my sojourn are spent that way. I will have to come back, I already know that. At the bottom of a dark and dirty corridor, the madness of this place appears clear-minded in the words of a prostitute. She asks me what I am doing here. I splutter out almost nothing. I get sixty euros. I buy drug from black men. I drink it. When the day is over, no money. She finishes to spread her make-up. I help her get up. She walks back to the pavement where the crowd swallows her skinny silhouette. And loneliness appears boundless. As the wheels of the plane are leaving the Greek soil, I know more than ever I will have to come back. In unlikely circumstances, I manage to block some time. Meanwhile, the Peloponnese is gone, or almost all of it, in flames, and the dog days have made casualties. What am I about to find? But, as an echo, I also hear : what am I looking for? Let chance act. I am tolerated, innocence saves me. I begin to strike up a friendship with some of them : Makis, Dimitris, Giorgos. They are my smugglers, guides, translators. Despite their help, I always look like an intruder to some or an informer for others. The pictures I took from the C. At the first misunderstanding, doubt or threat, I display them. These pictures go from hands to hands — two or three are stolen — and earn me friendly slaps on the back. I take pictures of what I can, the difficulties grow : hostility, light conditions, narrowness of the place. I skim over the subject, I labour an obvious point, the unknown remains. A chronicle of the place reveals nothing which is not already known. Though, with this, I still am out of focus. I have to focus on a peculiar case which spreads to general. To do so, I must become one of them, to be a regular in the gardens, merge into the scenery. I succeed so well that drug dealers fawn on me and police officers often go through my cloths and bag. But neither one nor the other lets me take pictures of them. Drug dealers fear denoucement and police officers want to keep their impunity. The only physical threats come from some drug addicts who wants the drug trafficing to go smoothly. Then there is the other one, more diffuse and omnipresent, weraring the name of rossopodi : greek people who spent their entire lives in Russia and came back to the land of their ancestors. They are considered violent and silent. One morning, the occasion is given to me to see some of them in action. In a corner, voices raise up. An afghan drug dealer is punched by four of them. An annoyance is enough to make blows fall. Around heads are shaking incredulously and one picks up what fell off the pockets of the drug dealer. Some onlookers excited by the view of blood go and give an hand. No one pretends to calm the situation down and the molesters disappear at the corner of a street with their booty. Everything takes place in front of the City Police Department where nobody moves, but whose windows are suddenly crowded I will learn later the only police able to act are the national ones. Although I am warned : it could come from everywhere and, except running away, putting up resistance is in vain. Filth of all kinds is added to this : blood, vomit, spit and used syringes are spread on the ground and stuck in every innermost recess. I often hesitate to breath, swallow my own saliva or shake hands. Once in a while, some drug addicts are close to overdose. The others try to « wake them up » in their own way, by slapping their face or pouring water on them, at the end they go through their pockets. And round one goes on fixing. Every night, I go back home with a single idea : wash myself. Then I relieve my eyes of what they have seen in a small notebook, I evacuate disgust, powerlessness, lassitude. It is primordial, because the day after, once again, everything has to be under surveillance. It is difficult, but day after day my attention sharpens more. I laboriously get the patience which allows me to anticipate gestures, comings and goings, and any possible negative reaction; I spend all the time on the lookout. My attention focuses on three men who show an uncommon solidatity. They live together. Two of them are named Giorgos, the third one Idris. They live in the streets and, having no source of income, they found their own way of survival. They shared the different tasks among themselves. Once in a while, one of them touts for customers for a drug dealer who rewards them with a dose of heroin. Some new syringes are sold fifty cents apiece. But as it is not enough, they save the heroin which soaks into cigarette filters used in its preparation. When they get hungry, they stand in the queue at the Sisitio, which distributes free lunch to homeless people. What remains of their day is punctuated with their injections. Despite all of this, they are friendly and cultured, and try to explain me to those who consider me an embarrassing witness. I focuse my shots on the three of them without neglecting what is happening around. The most difficult part is to leave the streets where they are part of the crowd of drug addicts, where it is hard to distinguish them. With a lot of patience and after many failures, I follow them one night to where they squat. In the staircase, on the first floor, they rebuild a home. A couple of mattresses, some blankets, an occasional table. The whole lit with candles after the nightfall. I come back one morning to seize this confused moment before their day really starts. I break their intimacy, but they give their agreement to me. They trust me. Giorgos the oldest one, is only 35 years old takes care of his appearance : every morning he combs his hair while his legs are covered with scars where blood or pus is dripping of. Suddenly, the situation worsen. The two Giorgos quarrel about a missing syringe full of heroin and their five months old mutual aid ends. They split. I shuttle from one to another, but they keep their position. Little by little the relationship between Giorgos and Idris follows the same path since Idris had begun to take sleeping pills and heroin together, which make him forgetful and paranoid. Arguments burst. I try to work about them the best I can, each in one corner. In the streets, the situation also changed. Many drug addicts had been pushed back to Theatrou Street. Then the shopkeepers and police patrols clean the street. From Threatrou Street, they go to Theatrou Square. Then fed up with police brutality, they find a shelter in a small passage between Sophocleous and Menandrou Streets. The stench and filth are awful. One morning, I see a couple having sex in a cardboard box while syringes are being emptied around. It is impossible to work in such a place like this. I can step in because everybody knows my face now, but taking a picture makes me exposed to the growing anger and violence of the crowd. My sojourn is coming to its end, as is my reportage. Do their portraits mean their origins, their pain, their broken dreams, their ruin? I hope so. What does one read in these maps which stare at us? Perhaps something else than the prejudice too quickly attached to drug addiction. My glance changed. What I thought seven months ago desintegrated more or less. The horror remains. But there is also sadness, joy sometimes, a boundless solitude and, despite everything, humanity. Click Here for shoot4change. Articles Dr. Richard H.

A Socratic Dialogue on Love

Peloponnese buying Heroin

A dialogue soon develops Carmen Sandiego: Oh my! This is an ironic situation. Waldo and Carmen Sandiego, the two most elusive people on this planet, have walked into each other by mere chance. Carmen Sandiego: So, Waldo, what brings you to this place? Are you on the run from another attempt to find you? Waldo: No, Carmen Sandiego, I am searching for something. It is most likely why nobody can find me; because I will go anywhere in order to find it. Waldo: I am searching for what many others have sought, yet I do not know if anyone has found it. Carmen Sandiego: That can't be. All of this time, you have just been searching for love? Carmen Sandiego: Well my love, you are in luck today. As you more than likely know, I am an art thief. And I love art so affectionately that I will even steal it. It is clear that love is obtaining whatever makes you happy. Waldo: I am surely in luck today, Carmen Sandiego. Is your knowledge of love so exact that you do not fear that your love may not actually be love at all? Carmen Sandiego: Why of course, Waldo. My robberies are often designated as crimes, but they are actually the labors of love. If love did not motivate me, then I would not take such great risks to obtain art to secure my happiness. Waldo: You are indeed a rare woman, Carmen Sandiego. But why do you hide this knowledge from the rest of the world? Let me travel the world and share your knowledge. If anyone challenges me, I shall tell them to seek you. Waldo: Yes, yes. However, I believe I do not fully understand what you mean by obtaining whatever makes you happy. Carmen Sandiego: Waldo, why are you asking me these bizarre questions? Are you alright? Waldo: Let us say that someone finds unending happiness in murder, torture, and rape. Clearly, this person does it in the name of love, correct? Carmen Sandiego: Certainly not! That is not what I meant when I said love is obtaining whatever makes you happy. You have twisted my words and turned them against me. However, let me gather your knowledge of love, so I may properly instruct you. Do you believe that you should do everything that you can to bring happiness to a person that you love, Waldo? Waldo: Well, I suppose I could say that I love my family, and that I would do anything to make any of them happy. Carmen Sandiego: Imagine that your family is affiliated with the mafia, my dear Waldo. And let us say that your mother begged you to drown your father in a kiddie pool; because it would bring her endless happiness. Would you do it? Carmen Sandiego: Now you have contradicted yourself, sweetie. If you would do anything to make one of your family members happy, then why would you not murder your father to bring happiness to your poor mother? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, of course. If I did not value my life, I could easily take it. Carmen Sandiego: No, the human condition is improved by good and it is degraded by evil. Waldo: Therefore, love improves the condition of another person. Earlier, you said that murder is terrible. Do you also consider it evil? Waldo: So, do you not see that by murdering my father to bring happiness to my mother, I would be working with evil and against love? Waldo: Good and evil are opposites. Something that is good cannot be evil; and something that is evil cannot be good. Waldo: Therefore, murder cannot be good; and love cannot be evil because murder and love reside in opposite spheres. And since murder is evil, murdering my father cannot be love because something that is evil cannot be good at the same time. Carmen Sandiego: That may justify why you shouldn't murder your father. However, earlier you said that love is improving the condition of another, which confuses me. Carmen Sandiego: If you were to win the lottery tomorrow, would you say your condition has improved? Waldo: Definitely Carmen Sandiego, the winnings could support me until my death. Carmen Sandiego: Do you agree that if a random someone were to receive money, then his or her condition would be improved? Waldo: I don't see why not. Even the richest person can live in greater luxury with the help of a larger budget. Carmen Sandiego: So, let us say that your best friend has gone mad, and he wants to purchase a gun. However, he cannot afford to buy one. Would you lend him money? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, but you said that if someone were to receive money, then his condition would be improved. How can you handle this contradiction, my love? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, how could one love another if he or she cannot love oneself? Waldo: Is it possible that my best friend could use the gun on me; despite the fact that I gave. Waldo: And if love of oneself requires looking after oneself, then would I contradict self-love by enabling my mad best friend to purchase a gun that he could use to shoot me? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, but would that not imply that the love of oneself supersedes the love of another? Waldo: No, of course not. Do you believe that harm is part of the great whole of evil? Waldo: Therefore, if the love of one object were to harm the love of another object, then it is not love at all since it is evil because it causes harm. In this case, the love of my best friend would harm the love of myself. I don't understand it. Carmen Sandiego: What is there not to understand? Wouldn't you buy a heroin addict syringe needles if you truly loved her? Waldo: No, but I might if she told me that I would buy her syringe needles if I truly loved her. Waldo: Answer this question for me first: why do most parents ignore their kids when they ask for random crap everywhere they shop? Carmen Sandiego: Because their kids usually ask for candy that will ruin their health, or toys that they will forget about in less than a day. Carmen Sandiego: But if parents bought the random crap that their kids asked for, wouldn't that show their love for their kids? Waldo: Do you believe that the kids ask for the random crap because they want their parents' love, or because they want the random crap? Carmen Sandiego: Of course, kids who ask for random crap are selfish and don't care about their parents' love. And unfortunately, this same concept applies to adults. Carmen Sandiego: Maybe you have, but what would you say if I said that love is doing what God wants you to? Carmen Sandiego: Let us say that God is an unconditionally loving God; and since love — which is part of the greater whole of the good — cannot be evil, then He is always good and never evil. Waldo: If God is always good, and what He wants can be found in sacred texts; then His wants would always be good and never evil, yes? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, but do you believe that humans may misinterpret the intended meaning of sacred texts? Waldo: Easily, humans even often misinterpret the intended meaning of books written by other humans. Carmen Sandiego: However, since God's wants would always be good, then we could double-check God's wants with what is good. If God's wants do not contradict goodness, then our interpretation of the sacred texts would not contradict the assumption that God is always good, correct? Waldo: True, but in this case whatever God wants is synonymous to what is good; that which is good and that which God wants are one of the same. Do you believe that wisdom is good? Carmen Sandiego: Yes, because wisdom allows us to separate truth from half-truths and lies. Waldo: Therefore, wisdom is good because of a tangible purpose that it serves. In this case, something can be proven to be good because of a reason that is independent of what God wants. Carmen Sandiego: That seems to be the case, Waldo. However, I am growing tired of all these examples that we are listing. Saying that love is obtaining whatever makes you happy is like saying that driving is whatever car you're in. Saying that love is doing anything to make someone happy, is like saying that happiness is doing anything that you love. I'll spare you of further examples, my precious, but give me a definition that explains the universal essence or purpose of love. Everything has an essential characteristic or an intended purpose. The essential characteristic of royalty is royal-birth. The purpose of a shovel is to dig. Provide me with a definition of such nature. Waldo: Do you agree that diet and exercise improve the health and condition of a body? Waldo: Therefore, the soul can be improved by certain means; just as the body can be improved by medicine or exercise. Love is part of the greater whole of virtue, and virtue is that which improves the soul; therefore, an essential characteristic of love is that it improves the soul. Carmen Sandiego: That definition makes sense, but I have noticed a flaw. The greater whole of virtue also improves the soul, so while that is an essential characteristic of love and the other virtues; it is not a unique characteristic that distinguishes love from the other virtues. Waldo: Then I suppose that love is that which can improve the soul of both oneself and others. The Platonic virtues of wisdom, courage, moderation, and justice stem from the self. Someone cannot make you wise. Someone cannot make you courageous. Someone cannot grant you moderation. Someone cannot make you just. These virtues are contained within oneself. But of course, someone can love you. Love transcends the self. Carmen Sandiego: That definition is more satisfying. However, how can you prove the ontological existence of mind-body dualism? And if you are able to prove the ontological existence of mind-body dualism, then how can you prove the ontological existence of other people beyond the self? But before you prove the ontological existence of people beyond the self: how can you prove that the self ontologically exists, and that it is not merely an illusion created by the ego? I also would not mind if you defined the nature of consciousness. Furthermore, how can you validate the inference that claims virtue is that which improves the soul? Aftermath: Unfortunately, we will never find out the conclusion of the dialogue between Waldo and Carmen Sandiego; for Athens was invaded shortly-thereafter by Sparta, starting Peloponnesian War in BC. You could say that the Spartans loved war. Waldo: Yes, it is a shocking coincidence. Carmen Sandiego: Coincidence? This is by the hand of fate. Waldo: That is a debate best saved for another day. Carmen Sandiego: And what do you happen to be searching for, my dear Waldo? Carmen Sandiego: And what may that be? Waldo: Love. Waldo: Yes, that is true. Carmen Sandiego: And they shall quickly realize the strength of my argument. Carmen Sandiego: What confuses you, Waldo? Waldo: Let me ask you; are you happy when you hear of a murder? Carmen Sandiego: Of course not! Murder is a terrible crime. Waldo: What about torture; do you find happiness in learning of that? Carmen Sandiego: Not at all! Torture is evil. Waldo: And what of rape; would you be happy if you were raped? Carmen Sandiego: Do you agree that the mafia has strong family values, Waldo? Waldo: Certainly; they would die for each other. Waldo: No, I would never murder my father! Waldo: Well Carmen Sandiego, do you believe that most people value their lives? Waldo: And do you not agree that most people enjoy pleasure more than pain? Carmen Sandiego: That depends what you're into, Waldo Waldo: Do you find the human condition perfect and stable? Waldo: And would you consider love as something good? Carmen Sandiego: Why certainly! Carmen Sandiego: Yes, that which is terrible implies evil. Carmen Sandiego: I don't understand. Waldo: Love is part of the greater whole of the good, yes? Carmen Sandiego: Yes. Waldo: And murder is part of the greater whole of evil, correct? Carmen Sandiego: Clearly. Carmen Sandiego: That is true. Waldo: Come now and get to the point, so I may clarify. Waldo: No way! He might harm someone. Waldo: Do you consider the love of oneself important, Carmen Sandiego? Waldo: Valuing and protecting one's own life is part of loving oneself, agreed? Carmen Sandiego: Very true, Waldo. Love of oneself is looking after oneself. Waldo: Is it possible that my best friend could use the gun on me; despite the fact that I gave him the money that he purchased it with. Carmen Sandiego: That is possible. Carmen Sandiego: Yes, it is. Waldo: And we agree that evil cannot be good, and that love is good, yes? Carmen Sandiego: Out of curiosity, Waldo, what have women told you about love? Carmen Sandiego: But isn't love giving someone what he or she wants? Waldo: Yes, and unfortunately the same concept applies to adults. Carmen Sandiego: They want the random crap. Waldo: Finally! A woman that actually realizes this. Maybe I have found love. Waldo: It depends on your concept of God. Waldo: And how could one find out what God wants? Carmen Sandiego: Sacred texts. Waldo: Alright, love is that which improves the soul. Carmen Sandiego: I fail to grasp the meaning of your definition. Waldo: Medicine improves an ailing body, yes? Carmen Sandiego: That is correct. Carmen Sandiego: Indeed, that is true. Waldo: The soul requires maintenance, as does the body; correct? Carmen Sandiego: I suppose so. Waldo: Give me a moment to think about that

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