It's one thing to write and portray the creatures of your imagination, and another to write without pretense, with no ambition other than to capture the moment. You write about Dimitris Chatzis, Giorgos Cheimonas, Melpo Axioti, Aris Alexandrou, and Giannis Ritsos.

You write about the publisher Nana Kallianesi. You design three small pieces that could be prose. You write with full anger about the post-dictatorship era - "anger is not from the sacrifice and boiling of the soul if this is its name," says Socrates in Plato's Cratylus. You write two pieces about prose that might not have been written that way if you didn't have a rather critical review in mind for one of your books, and see, how drastic and substantial reviews can be. And one piece about Cronus who ate his children. Thirteen pieces in total, in chronological order, over ten years, with calendar notes, as if you wrote a prose about yourself...

M.D.