Μητέρα Ελλάς...είμαστε μαζί σου...

Tα λόγια είναι περιττά...είμαστε μαζί σου...και ας είμαστε μακριά...και ο νοών νοείτω...Ελλάδα μου πονάω μαζί σου...καταραμένοι όλοι εκείνοι οι ανεγκέφαλοι που σε πονάνε... μην τους φταίς...απλά είναι μωροί...κάποτε θα σφίξει το νιονιό τους...ελπίζω μόνο να μην είναι αργά...

Note to Nikola Gruevski

Note to Nikola Gruevski: National identity is a construction; a narrative. Not a primordial fact. Ακούς μαλάκα?

Ίδιοι δεν είναι? The look-alikes!

BLISS by Constantino Kouyialis

BLISS

June. A breezy evening. I am late to meet a friend, after just finishing from a meeting. Having just parked I am walking towards my destination where I see a bunch of guys playing basketball on the courts of Faneromeni Gymnasium. It reminds me of my younger years, when we used to stay late, long after the sun went down and we used to hang white t-shirts on the hoops so we could see them in the dark. I stop to take a peek. I have to be honest. What strikes me the most is the agility of this big guy with his stomach overlapping over his waste. I am bewildered. I want to see it moving. I want to see how it flaps when in motion. I am thinking, as an animator is my task. Then I recognize an old friend. Then a voice too familiar rings in my ear. I turn to see. Its my best friend. He comes close. We joke for a few seconds. I tease him for not calling me up for the game. I couldn't anyway. "Gotta run"; he goes back to his game.

Then i pass through some immigrant kids, looking way too conspicuous for a second look, sipping beer from the same bottle. I turn to my left, some more kids breakdancing around the corner. I smile, and I make my way into the church's courtyard. Full of people. Grownups, kids. Some flirting, some talking, some playing cards. Colorful, alive, peaceful. I am liking it. I finally arrive at my destination. The cafe is full of people. I am scanning the place for Dennis. I see him, he smiles back. He is way too tipsy to complain for my late arrival. He offers me ouzo as i sit down, and a pair of drawings to go with which I have to admit are rather nice. One of them describes exactly my…late entry. Before long my other best friend arrives from nowhere to nick a fag from Denis and then he heads back to a girl. Good, I think to myself, otherwise we'll never get anything done.

We are suppose to work but before long we are joined by Carlos and his wife; an ex US army captain and his assertive latina-looking wife on the search for a free table. They offer us cigars, which I gladly take although I seldom if almost never smoke, and then we talk about Cuba. We talk about Fidel, and Raoul, and the Commadante,  the music, and the changes that are taking place as we speak. The consensus is: go to Cuba now. I light my cigar and I lay my head on the wall as i puff out a big heavy could of smoke.

Work can wait a bit….

Constantino Kouyialis