“In a country where more than half of the population lives in the capital, province is more than a local identification, province means roots.
Greek province used to be in contradiction with the dominant European modernity, this western fantasy that turned out to be a nightmare. 
People where forced to migrate to find jobs, make money, consume, create status, become part of the modernity and finally hope to return. 
Greek summer was supposed to be the returning period of migrant workers with the longing dream of not having to leave again, just stay to their roots.
Finally this day has arrived and Greek province has become the biggest national industry. Coasts, mountains, valleys are now available for rent or even sale.
Its ethics are printed on plastic menu, its culture screeches from a prehistoric synthesizer and its child is serving your well-rotten roots on a special wage of 2,45 $/h.
Now our touristic spots are promoting our coasts but not the refugees we let drown. The mountain summits but not their destruction from industrialized green energy. The running crystal springs but not its privatization.
The first day that Barbito and I travelled to the province he instinctively managed to capture its wholesome portrait. A misspelled handwritten land-selling sign hanged on a tree in the middle of nowhere.
Holy Greek Province on sale in such a special price”.