Quiet streets of Athens… a parallel world that lives almost autonomously in a blanket of tranquility. On Agrafon Street, under the Philopappos ring road, I paced back and forth, contemplating the quality of life that Athens could unexpectedly bring. A street that meets others like it, in a network of pre-war houses and post-war tenements, in a rapprochement that creates – at least at the time – a sense of reconciliation. Above the hill, a timeless landscape, under the highways, Callirois, a distant world.

Agrafon Street, along with many other small streets of Athens in all its districts, in Patisia, Petralona, ​​Thisio, Pagrati, Kolonos or Acharnon, is registered as an element of local culture. I was led there by a recent photograph of an impressive three-story house at 22 Agrafon Street, a house built around 1930, with impressive Art Deco doors, impressive ledges on the floor, a harmonious and majestic composition. .

I stood and looked at it. It was like a ship ready to sail. Rows of small, because of their height, apartment buildings and such cute one-story houses of the 1930s stretched right around, all with compact autonomy, with courtyards, with entrance doors in the popular Art Deco style. While I lived the atmosphere of this area, I wanted to walk back and forth. It has streets with philhellenic names, Mircievsky, Beraniovsky and Miniak, with memories of the terrible battle of Peta in 1822, diagonal and vertical, which end with the main street Gennaiu Kolokotronis. There, on the main street of the quarter, several mansions, flooded with light, look as if from a belvedere on a distant city.

But in the confusion of small streets, I felt that the greatest virtue is silence. Trees behind patios, closed facades, well-maintained doors – a mixture of Athenian life that contained them all. Walking along Agrafon to the church of St. Nicholas, I stopped, after crossing Miniak street, at one of the most beautiful outer doors, at number 10. You stand dumb and pass by. The grandeur enveloping the house, so sunny and sparkling in the sun and wind, gave me the taste of sea milk. Opposite are four one-story houses of the 1930s. I stood at the point where Athens interpreted herself.

Nearby, in the area of ​​Agios Nikolaos, I stumbled upon this unexpected “balcony” of Athens. It’s a beautiful walk through this otherworldly square with its well-kept facades, with a sense of openness and freedom. There, on the cornice of a makeshift belvedere, next to the church, you will see Devunioti Street, with its roofs and terraces, houses that look like dollhouses, the middle walls of residential buildings, like sails, from a high slab, everything was sparkling in the light at that time, the wind gave them movement. Creaks and rumbles were heard, life was there, though invisible.

How many images the neighborhood can give you, how many sensations, especially when everything is quiet, but you feel the pulsation of life. Can this feeling be preserved, recorded, become part of a common experience?