The Extraordinary Hidden in the Ordinary Mohammad nikpour

Watching out at the Mediterranean Sea, I get a kick out of each nibble of the kolokithakia tiganita my Yiayia had made for lunch. In the little angling town of Methoni, Greece, my grandma meanders through her garden every day, choosing stout tomatoes, peppers, zucchinis, and eggplants from their individual vines. My Pappou voyages far into the Mediterranean Sea, confident that his well used yellow angling net will bring him fortunes that day. Proceeding with this day by day routine from a far distance, my Baba hand-picks deliver at the supermarket and nearly assesses filets at the fish counter. Every fixing he purchases is purposeful, and overabundance is debilitated. At home, my storeroom comprises extra odds and ends, typically bringing about unbalanced, yet deliberately created open-confronted sandwiches after school. In spite of living 4,697 miles from Methoni, the Greek qualities imbued into my childhood fill in as a subliminal manual for my regular daily existence.

Each late spring day in Methoni closes with a rush of fulfillment, an inclination once in a while felt toward the finish of conventional days in Massachusetts. In Greece, there may not be anything to appear for toward the day's end other than the enduring...