Children of Achilles: The Greeks in Asia Minor since the Days of Troy

I remember still:

He was journeying to Ionian coasts, to empty shells of theatres, where only the lizard slithers over the dry stones, and I asked him: 'Will they ever be full again some day?' and he answered: 'Maybe at the hour of death' And he ran across the orchestra howling, 'Let me hear my brother!'

And the silence surrounding us was harsh, Leaving no trace at all on the glass of the blue.