A Travel Journal of Disquiet           I got this pamphlet in a flea market in Athens. I first thought it was a manual on traffic signals or electrical symbols, as I can't read Greek. But the bookseller told me that it was actually a military code manual from the 1950s, probably passed down through a veteran, an estate sale, or a quiet archive clearance. Its cover bears a warning: The contents must not be disclosed to the press or presented to any unauthorised person.
          I know the prohibition has long since lost its legal power. Yet, the power it held probably hasn’t entirely faded. It seems to be warning not to the captain it once belonged to, but to me who picked it up by chance half a century later.
          As I travelled, I began using it to clip my photos. A strange gesture, maybe. Just to soften the relic of Cold War disquiet still lingering in its pages, by leaving behind the private, intimate traces of an individual life. However, the dust mites dwelling in those fragile pages still make my skin itch.

Ch, July 2025