So, I wait, thinking if not Crete then maybe I will call Martin in Amsterdam and hold up the winter there, or maybe I should start making my way to Thessaloniki and Mt. Athos so that I may visit the monks that Andreas reversed me on. They themselves are unjust to women and hide their light under a footstool instead of placing it in the window to guide the way. They say come to us but only the men. Some even leave the mountain to lecture at universities or work as doctors. Maybe the mountain is their sanctuary, where they get rejuvenated, all I know is that I must not judge them in their deficiency for not only have I meet them not but also who am I in my daily failures.