Do I really have nothing to fear but fear?
At the start of our Greek holiday, Freddie, the owner of the house we’re renting, arrives to welcome us. He keeps a respectable social distance, standing just outside the door and rolling a cigarette. Behind him is a hill covered in pines. Out the window to my left, the Ionian Sea sparkles.
“You should keep the doors shut when you’re here,” he says.
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