Someone, drawing inspiration from fantasy literature, argues of islands that are not there.   My demon speaks to me of an island that does not exist but in consciousness, in literature, in the soul, because that is where the Poet of myth placed it.

It crosses the millennia the idea of the wonderful island, protected from all winds, sheltered from every sea, lush and sunny, the island of Calypso.    Who knows where Homer wanted to think of it or place it.   Little does it matter, it is a play of fantasy and poetic imagination that makes her eternal and desirable, happy and perfect, Mediterranean and a place of the heart, which is why she is so connected to our seas.   
It is a beautiful idea to think that Ogygia could be one of ours. Looking at J.H.Draper’s painting of her, in his creation, one cannot help but strike the imagination of the cliff in the background so similar to the many that hem our islands.  It is just a fantasy, nothing more, but so natural and reassuring.

We want to tell ourselves that our navigation, after long voyaging, may find ending when we set foot on Ogygia.

Odysseus stayed there seven years, eventually Zeus persuaded Calypso to let the hero go so that he could return to his home, leaving the island to rise, in myth, to a place of blissful immortality.