Paths of my angel

Notes that i have kept all my life. I wanted to record every solitary moment I lived, so they won't fade away. Now that the trail reaches the end and time erases my footprints, I felt the need to seek those memories that were mine. The moments that were mine. My anxieties about the books I wrote. Today, I feel that I have nothing of my own anymore. The thousands of pages I wrote feel like the shredded pieces of my soul scattered in the wind. And they were loved. This book is a gift for my readers. For those who loved my books. It is the sanctuary that I have kept in my soul. My intuition about the world and about existence. I walk again on the Paths of my Angel. These daffodil covered paths that the pain of initiation, the unrelenting pain of love, transformed them into ivory and Orphic song.

 

Reviews

Στα μονοπάτια του έργου και της ζωής της Μαρίας Λαμπαδαρίδου Πόθου
Άντα Γκίβαλου, Παλαιά Βουλή Αθηνών, 31 Μαρτίου 2018

Η επανάσταση της μνήμης
Eleni Gkika, ΕΘΝΟΣ της Κυριακής, 26 Ιουλίου 2016

Απροσδόκητη συνάντηση
Ελένη Χωρεάνθη, fractal, 29 Ιουνίου 2016

Οδοιπορώντας στους δρόμους της ψυχής
Καλλιόπη Εξάρχου, κριτική, Έκθεση Βιβλίου Θεσσαλονίκη, 2016

Τα Μονοπάτια του Αγγέλου μου – Τα φιλντισένια μονοπάτια της ζωής μου
Γιώργος Κιούσης, συνένετευξη για το presspublica.gr, 17 Ιουνίου 2016

Author's thoughts

This “adventure of life and writing,” the Memory of the Water”, as I have called it, has been the route of my life through the diaries I have written, and now I think it has ended. Because, if I connect the two ends of time, I will find myself again at the beginning. And I could write another book from the diaries based on moments different from the ones I had chosen. And it would still be me. This is to say, what we have lived, however we have lived, they have infinite possible viewpoints and perspectives. An event or experience remains the same, but also altered, depending on the way that it will be enlightened or lived through poetry. Today I know that none of these belongs to me, nothing is mine. As creatures of an ephemeral existence we cannot determine what we are. And only that which we give is ours.

 

Excerpt

From Patakis Publication site

 

Book presentation at IANOS bookstore (video)