There is nothing such as a “final conclusion”. At least that’s what we decided resting by the lake and looking in front of us at the blue mount Vitsi turning gradually into purple in the quiet summer evening.
Neither is there a “final conception” of this mountain, where nowadays with the first autumn rain local peasants collect delicious mushrooms to pleasurably accompany their night feasts.
How can we ever talk “finally” about prehistoric land-workers crossing the Murgana and Alevitsa gorge, about Neolithic potters meeting somewhere between Devoli and Dunavec, between Dispilio and Aliakmon River, if we cannot “finally” conceive the illegal immigrants crossing the borderline which leads from “there” to an attractive “here”?
We are unable to talk about the “final conclusion” since the mysterious prehistory was made from materials found either in an unknown “here” or in a “there” full of hope and dreams.
Therefore, we will keep mumbling theory oriented answers to this serious torturing question. Answers that would trigger a hilarious laughter to the Neolithic farmers, if they could ever listen to them. And they must have been laughing quite loud in that era, having tasted maybe the delicious mushrooms of Vissinia but ignoring the bleeding bodies of the Greek civil war. So, resting by the lake, we may not have at our disposal the “final conclusion”, but we have deeply inside us inscribed the short history of this excavation and the toughness of its potential.