Pharos and Pharillon

The book opens on a landscape that feels half‑myth, half‑geology: a solitary limestone spur jutting from the Egyptian desert, its leeward side cradling the silty birth of Alexandria’s great harbours while the seaward side watches the Mediterranean roar. From the earliest floods that turned sea into fertile delta, the narrative weaves together the natural forces that shaped a city where Greeks, Jews, Africans and later Arabs would each leave their mark. It is a place both timeless and fragile, a reminder that even the most enduring monuments rest on shifting sands.

Against this backdrop, a displaced Menelaus and his queen find themselves forced ashore on the isolated island they misname “Pharos.” Their uneasy stay introduces an elderly hermit, a confused exchange of mythic names, and the hint of an ancient, sunken harbour whose ruined quays are now only reachable by swimmers. From these first misadventures the story expands, tracing the rise of the legendary lighthouse, the later, obscure “Pharillon,” and the layered memories that still echo through the rocks of Alexandria.