ιδ is the other realm of Idonika. The two tend to overlap; sometimes they are confused and at other times they are clearly distinguished, yet each leads to the other and both are timeless, driven by our fervent desires. It is our childish game in search of a revelation that can only emerge in the actual search.
ιδ is our promised Ithaca, perhaps the finest example of the genius of our civilisation: solid yet not heavy, great yet not colossal, down to earth yet with a will to fly. A huge grassland, round yet open, where vessels filled with home-bound visitors dock. Its language doesn’t contain words like ‘foreigner’ or ‘native,’ ‘guest’ or ‘host,’ because all those who arrive there are at once residents and strangers. There are no frontiers between sea and countryside, between countryside and town, because it’s all the same—the one doesn’t exist without the other. There are no map-makers for everything begins, ends and begins again here, so there is no need for maps—suffice it to look and in the distance glimpse a lighthouse that shines brightly and guides our journey.
ιδ projects new cities every day, encouraging the birth of communities, giving a voice to all views and articulating their thoughts in words. It suggests new systems, gets it wrong, gets it right; gets it wrong again before getting it right once more. Everything is possible … Yes, ιδ is our Ithaca, the heart of Idonika.