In between talks on geopolitical doom, one woman says I put her off journalism, while another thanks me for doing the same for her son
I’m at a literary festival in Greece, standing by some sort of colonnade, drink in hand, fulfilling my role as a non-luminary. Ahead of me, hands are being shaken and warm words exchanged. The sun has just set, and there is a faint glow coming off various luminaries.
“Why are you just standing there?” my wife says, coming up behind me.
