Two weekends ago, the only Greek orthodox church in town had its annual Greek Festival. The music can be heard from blocks away as it wafts from a tall hill overlooking the river. We went on Saturday night, the busiest of the three days. We laughed, talked, people-watched and tried not to lose each other in the densely packed crowds.
The primary activity at the Greek festival is waiting in line for food. I think I spent at least an hour and a half standing line, which is kind of typical, but the wait is always worth it. Delicious baklava, kadaifi, gyros, trigonas, moussaka, doulmades, dyples, olives, meats and cheeses. We stuffed ourselves silly.
My sister and I stayed to watch the last dancing group of the night, which is made up from the most experienced dancers.
I've never been at the festival that late at night before, so I've always missed this group. It was wonderful. Unlike the little kids, who are just trying to get it right and/or not be bored silly, these adults are clearly enjoying themselves. It's clear that they practice together and enjoy each other. They laughed at each other and passed comments as they snaked their lines of dancers around the dancing area.
I brought my camera, and was so entranced by the way that the lights from the stage created these mysterious color fields. I am quite happy with these photos. They have a strangeness that is sometimes hard to find in a photo. Photography can be so obvious: the camera records what is in front of it. The most interesting photographs to me are the ones that have a mystery to them, that record more than what was there, or record how something feels rather than merely how something looks.
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