The monastery at Mateora represented a world within a world. Access was provided by a basket pulled up by a monk. The monks had their own justice system, hospital and administration. None of what was done or not done was subject to the Greek government at that time. I was allowed to take a picture through an opening in the door of the room containing hundreds and hundreds of human skulls that were set on wooden shelving from floor to ceiling. This underscores just how remote we were. It was a small city complete to the finest detail.

The Greek government has recently required that a narrow causeway be built to a nearby public road. Before this, I am told, the ride up in the basket was an out of this world experience. Some fruits and vegetables were grown, but I did not see any animals. There are few people living there now, but the structures remain as they were. It gave me a feeling of being in a place that no longer fit its destiny. It now seemed so out of place. Yet those that were still there were serious and dynamic, with the energy to keep the place alive. It seemed it might never completely die.

On reflection, I began to wonder about the few young people leaving our world and entering into this world. What was their feeling - one of deliverance or abandonment? What were they finding that the world was overlooking?