Two loves give birth to and nourish this book. The first, the homeland, the miracle and curse of it. The most unexpected and unbelievable miracle of its wounded continuity, its half-dead spirit, its defamed spiritual flame. Who still knows where it breathes from and how it still drags its steps on the crossroads of History? Delivered for centuries to the Turk, delivered, then and even more today, to its good and chaotic, to its unreal and dreamlike and excessive self with the ambition of sudden memory of greatness and the nocturnal terrors of the future that always-belong-to-others, it still hesitantly waves its flag in the depth of the galaxy.
[...] (from the book's prologue)