“I’ve brought you something boss. . . from the widow. . . A basket of oranges. She says they’re the last from her garden. . .” He emptied the oranges on the bed. The whole hut became redolent with their smell.” Zorba The Greek, Nikos Kazantzakis 1952
Forget books. Live life. The excitement that this book plunges you into – the dancing, the drinking, the arguing, the loving, the music. The energy of this book has always stayed with me. I love to dance, to move. I met my wife dancing – I was in college, she not yet. I still find myself going for a run when I need a physical outlet for emotional overload. The fascinating character of Zorba. It’s totally absorbing the way this book ricochets between despair and enlightenment. And amidst the zeal of this book comes this wonderful delicate little scene. The widow leaving the oranges on his bed is everything and nothing. Great possibilities and great destruction. He writes the scene in such a way that you feel like you just rubbed your face in a crate of oranges and the scent stays with you. But the lingering scent, lingering life, leads to so much despair. What is the message? What is the perfect way to live?