Twenty-five years ago, Eric and I traveled to the tiny Greek island of Folegandros for our honeymoon. We could never have known then that something he left behind would call us back a quarter of a century later—or that it would one day inspire an album.
Folegandros felt magical to us from the beginning. Perched above the blue Aegean, the island was quiet, beautiful, and wonderfully removed from the pace of ordinary life. During our stay, the powerful meltemi winds swept across the island and stranded us there for a time. Our plans had to wait, but somehow that only made the island feel more memorable—as though we had briefly stepped outside the usual movement of time.
High above the village stands the Church of Panagia, reached by a winding path that climbs the hillside in a series of graceful turns. The walk itself is unforgettable: the white church above, the sea and island below, and the wind moving through it all.
Somewhere along the wall beside that path, Eric found a secret place and hid a time capsule.
We eventually left Folegandros and returned home, but the time capsule stayed behind. Over the years, its hiding place became part of our shared history—a small mystery waiting on a distant island. Was it still tucked safely into the wall? Had someone discovered it long ago? Or had the island and its relentless winds reclaimed it?
Now, for our 25th anniversary, we are returning to Folegandros to walk that path again.
Of course, the island may have changed. The path may look different, and after so many years, our memories may not lead us as precisely as we hope. The capsule may still be there, or it may have disappeared long ago. But finding it is only one part of the story. Simply returning together—older, changed, and carrying 25 years of life with us—feels meaningful in itself.
There is something moving about revisiting a place that holds an earlier version of your life. In a way, the island is its own time capsule. We will be walking beside the people we were then: newly married, stranded by the wind, and unaware of everything the years ahead would bring.
This story has also begun finding its way into my music. During this trip, I’ll be recording in New York City and Athens for a new album called Time Capsule. The music is inspired by the hidden capsule, our return to Folegandros, and the strange and beautiful ways that memory can remain with us across time.
Music can hold a moment much as a time capsule does. A melody can preserve a feeling, carry it through the years, and return it to us when we least expect it. As I began imagining this album, I found myself thinking not only about what Eric left on that hillside, but also about everything we have gathered since: the places we have traveled, the life we have built, and the memories that have quietly become part of who we are.
Soon we will stand once more at the beginning of that winding path and make our way toward the Church of Panagia. We don’t know what will be waiting for us along the wall. That uncertainty is part of the adventure.
Whatever we find, the real gift will be walking the path together again—and bringing the story home in music.
