EPIDAURUS

If perfection exists in our world then the Theatre of Epidauros is one such example. It can be reached via paths and stairways hidden by thick undergrowth and vegetation. Here, Greece well and truly recalls Arcadia, with the thickets of mulberry and myrtle, the dark cypress trees and water that springs from the fountains. No flowers here, just green against a green backdrop. It is in this appropriate, if somewhat conventional, setting that the temple appears in all its splendour. Nesting on a hill’s welcoming incline as if resting against a mother’s breast, this majestic yet contained and immaculate semicircle seems an intrinsic part of the landscape, born by the very hill itself. This is a location that had to be, a place that could not have been born elsewhere. Rose-coloured patterns contrast with the ring of trees that shadow the upper reaches; flights of stairs become trapezes united within the faultless elegance of the semicircle. This was the site where tragedy was re-enacted. The site of catharsis, from where the public exited free, absolved, and purified.