There was a gap. After months that seemed to stretch into an eternity of being locked down, bolted in, and burnt out by COVID-19 restrictions, a gap appeared. It was only small and narrowing even as I looked through it, yet I saw enough of the cyan sky and sea that glimmered beyond to know that I could resist Greece’s siren call no longer. I booked my flights and accommodations immediately. Four days later, I was in a taxi, making the one-hour drive from Aktion Airport in Preveza, Greece, to the secluded, silver-gray olive groves and sun-baked bays of the quiet resort where I would be staying. I had chosen this spot, between Parga and Sivota in the northwest of the country, primarily because it still seemed so close to its past. Even looking at photographs online gave me a palpable sense of its history; of its lands, which appeared …