Smugglers, prisoners, gamblers, fugitives, murderers, children of murderers, killer mothers, defeated rebels. And also: a Japanese author who commits suicide with his pen, a desperate Russian woman who crosses the country's borders in a Mafia wagon full of weapons.

What connects all this diverse world of "Smugglers"? Answer: corruption as a way of life. Corruption as a natural extension of Evil. Corruption as the driving force of History, since in reality, the heroes of Andreas do not belong to the marginal types. They simply experience a marginalized, from the official perception of History, dark period of Greece. The protagonists of Andreas constitute the black History of a corrupt state and the tyrannized consciences of its citizens, the micro-history of a world where the boundaries between honesty and dishonor, consciousness and unconsciousness, heroism and betrayal, responsibility and corruption are fluid, almost non-existent.

Logically, if you are on the side of the hunted, you do not think like a hunter, and if you are corrupt to the core, you cannot preach ethics. And yet, this is precisely what makes Andreas' book fascinating: the ease with which some characters can transition from one state of affairs to another, literally as if nothing is happening or, more accurately, as if this ethical backtracking does not depend on themselves; as if this peculiar smuggling of consciences is defined by some natural law beyond and above themselves, which, however, the reader is called upon to judge its validity again and again...