I have returned to a strange Greek reality which I m trying to decipher. but it is a familiar reality, soothing in a way. the funeral was a lovely affair which I am certain my mother would have enjoyed (or did she?). schoolmates of hers from seventy years ago showed up, boys who were in love with her still carried their adoration in their old eyes. Trikeri has now become the home she never had.
Athens is a sad poor city. Its children still find the strength to smile and dance. I swim, I write, I do something that doesn't sound like singing but is. my friend George still insists that his guitar, a cello and my voice could change the weather. you know maybe I am the one who should stand up and do something about it. miss your laughter.
Giorgos Trikeri
charliemj94@gmail.com
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