 
DIARY OF A HUMAN TARGET

### [From the Beginning to the End]

written by ISIDORA VEY

Includes all three books of the series

"Diary of a Human Target":

Book One (Tainted Youth)

Book Two (The Path Towards the Inside)

Book Three (Homestretch)

This diary is a work of fiction.

Any similarity to persons and events

is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2018, Isidora Vey

All rights reserved.

This book may not be reproduced,

in part or in full, digital or otherwise,

without prior written permission from the author.

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1: Distant Innocence

I don't know when I first started feeling like a target; maybe on the day I was born, on 21st June 1963, a Friday with a new moon, after an eight-month-gestation and artificial throes. Everybody was taken by surprise because, as it is known, babies born at the end of eight months don't survive.

But maybe not; anyway, my first years were very innocent. My infancy memories fade away in a hazy nirvana, as time seemed flexible and non-linear and space stretched languidly to infinity, since children of that age can hardly tell the difference between dreams and reality.

Back at those times, my parents and I often used to go to the local cinema. I was particularly fond of watching Greek of foreign movies, although I had a small problem: I always got scared when the screen lit up, the moment when the blackness of the dark canvas was dispelled by the blinding light of the projector. For this reason, just before the film started, I stood up on my chair, turned my back on the screen and waited for the movie to begin. In the meantime, those sitting behind me were pretty annoyed: "Turn round and be seated!" I often heard but paid no heed. My parents told me the same but I just couldn't face the screen unless the film had started for good. What was I really afraid of? What did I fear that would flash before me on the black screen?

I was about three and a half years old when a doll of mine lost a leg, which made me very upset. I took the toy in my hand, got out in the yard and threw it away with might and main. The doll flew over the two adjacent building plots and bumped against the wall of aunt Penelope's garden, about thirty metres away. That seemed strange to me and I ran into the house to fetch my mother. I told her what had happened, but she did not at all believe that I had managed to throw the doll so far. "That's impossible! Don't tell lies!" she scolded me and got into the kitchen again.

During those years I was quite innocent and credulous, always ready to trust anybody about anything. I also had no problem giving my toys away to other children, although they usually didn't let me even touch theirs. Pretty soon, they all started calling me "stupid" and I could not understand the reason why.

It was a warm spring morning and I was walking along the street, together with my mother, when two boys of my age, sitting quietly in their garden, called me: "Hey you, come here, we want to give you a present!". My mother attempted to dissuade me but I wouldn't listen.

"So, where is the present?" I asked.

The two boys giggled but said nothing.

Then, a sudden slap on my face gave me quite a jolt.

"This is the present!" one of the kids said and then they both burst into wild laughter. I started crying and got away at once, more bewildered than sad. This was just a prank, alright, but why don't I ever come up with such tricks? Why can't I ever think of making fun of anybody? I wondered. I was only four years old then, but I could already sense I was different from the other children.

In the mornings I used to play alone and carefree in the open field next to our house. However, there were two older girls who passed by quite often. As soon as they saw me, they always stopped and sought to scare me, telling me that they were witches: "We come from Africa and we know all about magic! If you don't sing to us, we shall make you like this!" they hissed and showed me an olive-tree leaf. Fearing that I would be either beaten up or turned into a leaf, I started singing immediately.

One day, when I was four and a half years old, my mother and I paid a visit to Mrs Daphne, who lived nearby. While the two women were chatting in the balcony, I spent my time exploring the garden, the yard, the stairs. I had ended up on the terrace, when I saw a girl of my age playing in the next garden. I smiled to her spontaneously; she looked at me angrily and called me "pig". I didn't get it at once; I thought I had heard wrong.

"Hi! How are you?" I asked politely.

"You, pig!" she cried again.

I walked away sad and returned to my mother in the balcony. Ten minutes later, the bell rang and the hostess went to answer the door. It was another friend of Mrs Daphne, together with her daughter. I was really taken aback when I recognized one of the two African girls who took pleasure in frightening me. Hardly realizing how it started, we soon had a bad fight; she pushed me down and hit me, shouting in a strident voice: "I am African, I know how to cast spells and I can kill you!". I burst into crying and I wanted to leave at once.

One winter night, as I was riffling through my father's medical book, I saw a picture that shocked me more than anything else in my life till then: It was a drawing of a human skeleton. I was scared out of my wits at the thought of some horrible illness that could reduce a man like this! I asked my father immediately and he explained to me that all people are like this inside and this is what remains when they die. Speechless with terror, I ran to my bed at once, determined to fall asleep at once and forget all about it. However, when I woke up next morning, I realized that a traumatic experience is never forgotten.

On 12th November 1967 my younger sister was born. She was brought home a few days later; I remember, the weather was incredibly cold and the wind was blowing with a vengeance. Some months later, she took her name, Alice.

At first I didn't have any particular problem with her. Nevertheless, as time passed, I could see that our parents and relatives liked her more than me because she was "such a smart girl", "all airs and graces", "a cutie". Moreover, no matter what mischief she was up to, she was always excused because she was "the little one". I, on the contrary, was often thrashed over a trifle and nobody ever excused me for anything. Let alone I almost forgot my name: I was no longer Yvonne. I was "the big one".

My best friend was Gregory, my father's godson, who was two years younger than me and lived in the same neighbourhood. Sometimes I can still hear his shrill voice ringing in my ears: "Let's go out and play!". I also used to play with Urania, the baker's blue-eyed daughter, who was two years older than me. The three of us had great fun together playing in the fields every day, living the most wondrous adventures in our imagination. I reminisce a scene, when I was about five years old and I was leading four other children into a field, all of us holding thin twigs in our tiny hands, as though they were scepters.

In contrast to the other girls, who could hardly wait to grow up, get married and have children, I openly expressed my aversion to the role of housewife and mother. I simply liked running around and exploring the fields instead of helping mum with the housework. I used to avoid dolls; I preferred playing "Indians and Cowboys" with the boys rather than "mother and children" with the girls. For this reason, the housewives of the neighbourhood disliked me a lot and had no problem in showing it to me. In fact, they foamed with rage anytime they saw me playing in the streets and called me "tomboy". Especially aunt Pauline, Gregory's mother, kept on trumpeting forth that when she was at my age she could manage the whole housework by herself. As about her mother, a fat old hag always loaded with fancy gold jewels, she literally hated me. She called me names and threatened me to beat me up, whenever she saw me. One day, while Gregory and I were playing quietly in his yard, the old hag rushed out and took him quickly inside the house, shouting to me: "If you don't disappear at once, I will tear you asunder!"

My father was seldom at home because he worked as a captain in the merchant navy. I remember, it was a sunny summer day when he and I paid a visit to a colleague seaman. First, we gathered olives in a green field. Then, we went to the seaman's house, which was a nice traditional cottage with a spacious whitewashed yard. As soon as I entered the bedroom, I saw an old rifle hanging on a wall. I raised Cain to make them give it to me. After a lot of hesitation, the host's black-dressed mother took down the gun and handed it to me. Beaming with happiness, I took it out to the yard and started aiming at stuff. The old woman brought me a chair. "Oh, the girl may faint!" she exclaimed full of concern, but I couldn't understand why I may faint. Because I'm a girl, maybe? Anyway, I found out soon that I couldn't hit anything because the rifle had no bullets. I definitely wanted bullets, I made a song and danced about it, but they refused to do me that favour. In all probability, they didn't have any bullets at all.

Another day I was feeling bored because my friend Gregory was nowhere to see. Namely, I was looking forward to playing with some impressive cowboy pistols he had – a recent gift his aunt Calliope had brought from America. After lunch, I decided to visit him. I entered the house through the back door and found nobody in the kitchen. I slowly walked to Gregory's room, there was no one there either. I peeped through the ajar bedroom door and saw that the whole family was fast asleep inside. Being very careful so as not to make a sound, I searched among Gregory's toys, found the two shiny golden pistols, took them in my hands and went off at a run. As soon as I arrived home, my mother saw my new toys and she started shouting:

"Tell me right now, where did you find these guns?"

"I found them on the road!" I replied quickly, with my most innocent face.

"These pistols are too expensive to be Greek! Start talking, did you steal them from an American boy?"

"No, no, I found them!" I insisted.

A little later, aunt Pauline rolled up; my mother showed her the guns and aunt confirmed that they belonged to Gregory. I awkwardly excused myself that I had taken the toys "by mistake", I said I was sorry and gave them back. "Never mind, but Yvonne left the back door open when she left!" aunt Pauline said calmly.

A few days later, I met Gregory in a big building plot next to his house; we decided to play stone-throwing battle and barricaded ourselves behind two opposite heaps of gravel. All at once, I grabbed a huge flat stone and hurled it at Gregory. Yet, borne along by my own impetus, I didn't aim well; the stone flew really high and landed behind a two-metre wall at the far end of the field. Right then, a pained woman's voice was heard: "Oh, my head!". Gregory ran quickly and disappeared behind some thick leafage; I didn't find the time to escape, so I just hid behind my heap of gravel. In no time, an old man appeared and yelled at me angrily: "I know you are hiding behind the gravel, show yourself or I'll come and beat you!" I hesitated for a few moments, but I finally exposed myself and was obliged to get a blasting from the old man, for ten long minutes.

It took me many years to realize the oddity of the event: the stone had covered a distance of about 30 metres, at a height of 2,5 metres. Even as an adult, I doubt whether I could throw a stone that far...

Wondrous things used to happen to me back at those years: Sometimes I emptied my mind from all thoughts and spontaneously had a strange feeling that I were hollow inside, as if my body were devoid of inner organs; or I felt like sinking in a dark vortex, only for a split second, before I started up agitated. Some other times, I had the odd impression of being cut off from the world that surrounded me; everything and everyone else seemed to turn up around me in coordination, like a sinister three-dimensional kaleidoscope. Almost every night, when I went to bed and closed my eyes, I had a weird yet delightful experience: I felt like whirling deeper and deeper under a vertiginous night sky; at the zenith of my virtual universe, thousands of colourful stars sparkled like fabulous treasure.

Too bad that such experiences will become rarer and rarer as years go by, and they will disappear for good with the advent of adolescence.

Chapter 2: Class A Junior

My first day at elementary school, in mid September 1969, proved to be a rather disagreeable experience: I had never been with so many children together before, and I felt like a fish out of water. However, the other pupils seemed to have no problem at all. As soon as I realized that I was going to be glued to a desk for hours, away from my friends and my games in the street, I decided to play truant in the very first break. I approached a girl and told her to come home with me. She was worried that a teacher might see us (so what?), but I finally persuaded her. "If the bell rings, we are finished!" she kept murmuring all the way home and I couldn't understand why she was so afraid. When we arrived, the girl left at once and I lied to my mother that classes had been dismissed. However, after an hour or so, a boy from the sixth class showed up and took me back to school.

A few days later, when I returned from school, I noticed there was something different about our house: Until the previous day, we had been living at 30 Nereid st., in the north of Glyfada. However, all the numbers in our street had just changed and from then on we would be living at number 13. I knew the superstition about the unlucky number, I felt a little uneasy, but I refused to regard that as a sign of fate.

Anyway, I soon got used to the school routine. I particularly singled out Fotis Armaos, a boy in my class, whom I liked a lot: He was a tall, blond, nice kid and an excellent student. Two or three times I ran to him and hugged him, but he found it strange and tried to avoid me. Once he shouted at me: "Leave me alone! I'm Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk!" I preferred to keep a distance ever since.

Nevertheless, I am sure that the feeling of being targeted got stronger and stronger ever since I started school. For some strange reason, it was not easy for me to get into groups of children and play with them. In fact, they didn't show any willingness to include me in their games. Once, I spent the whole break watching a group of girls playing skipping-rope. More and more girls joined the game, I kept on asking them to let me play too, but they didn't even deign to answer. Only when I went to the teacher and complained, did they finally let me play -just for a few seconds; then, the bell rang.

The first friend I got at school was Duchess, a very beautiful girl with voluminous black hair falling to her shoulders. I had not at all noticed her worn out clothes and shoes, nor did I care about her complete incapability of learning. Three months had already passed, but she could not write a word, not even the alphabet. All the other children avoided her -and me as well.

One day, another classmate approached and talked to me during the break: it was Louise Hoidas, a short, chubby, curly-haired girl, who suggested I should get rid of Duchess and join her large party. She explained that the other children didn't want to play with me because of Duchess and that if I left her, I would find lots of friends. Soon I became the object of a funny tug-of-war: Louise was pulling my right sleeve and Duchess the left one, until I decided to follow Louise.

Some days later, Louise didn't want my company anymore, although we still sat together, at the same desk. As about Duchess, she was never seen at school again. I didn't manage to find any other friends during the rest of the year, so I spent most of the breaks wandering alone in the schoolyard; and more often than not, I bumped upon those nasty African girls who never lost a chance of making fun of me.

I am not at all sure whether the teacher liked me or not. Once, Louise and I were talking continuously during the lesson; at a moment, we both laughed at a picture of a crab in our reading-book. The teacher was annoyed, she yelled at both of us but whacked my palms four times with her wooden ruler. It hurt a lot, a lot more than I had expected; I burst into tears and didn't stop crying for the rest of the lesson. For the next five days, that painful experience kept coming into my mind again and again, filling me with fear and agony.

Despite the above mishaps, I managed to pass the class with full marks. As I was walking up Hymettus Avenue together with my mother, both feeling happy about my success, a red-haired boy suddenly darted out of a yard, pointed a finger at me and shouted maliciously: "You, shit!"

"Isn't he a fool, mum!" I said loudly and kept on walking, as if nothing had happened.

Just for a moment it occurred to me that the incident might have been a bad omen for my future, but I dismissed the thought immediately.

That summer, my grandma Jane, my father's mother, came from Cefallonia and stayed with us for two months, because she wanted to see some doctors in Athens. One day mum grumbled to dad over the wine that grandma drank all the time (for she was too fond of the bottle), and then she went on an errand. When she got back, my father told her that in the meantime he had asked his mother to leave and return to the island as soon as possible. So, the very next day the old woman packed up and got ready to set off.

"Are you leaving, grandma?" I wondered, as I saw her in our veranda with her luggage in hand.

"Yes, I'm leaving because your dad sends me away!" she replied.

"But why?"

"It seems that he doesn't want me here," she answered frigidly.

A few days later, my father signed up as a captain on a merchant ship. Soon mum received a letter from him, commanding her to send her mother off too, otherwise he would never return home. My mother obeyed at once. However, grandma Alice didn't have her own house, so she ended up in an old people's home in Athens. A month later, she had a stroke and died. "Because of too much happiness," said mum bitterly.

On the day of the funeral, the coffin with the dead body inside was left on the big table of the sitting room, according to the custom. The lid of the coffin stood by the front door, as a sign of mourning. From dawn till dusk relatives and neighbours came along to pay their respects to the dead woman. As about me, I showed a paradox frivolity all day, playing with Gregory in the yard and stealing flowers from the wreaths. It is not that I didn't care about grandma Alice; she was a quiet woman, who never bothered anybody. Yet, it was impossible for me to feel sorry for her loss, as if I refused to accept the reality of death.

In general, my mother has always been the model of self-sacrifice, constantly occupying herself with the household chores and the increasing demands of my father and his family: From the very first day of their marriage, my father's relatives (usually his parents or his six sisters) used to land on our house and stay for months each time, even when my dad travelled abroad because of his job. While they were here, my grandpas demanded to be taken to a different doctor every day; as about my aunts, they came just for fun and tourism. They were all obsessed with Athens, the capital of Greece, maybe because they had all grown up in an isolated mountainous village of Cefallonia.

Note: After the above dramatic event, the long lasting visits of my father's family became even more frequent.

Chapter 3: Class B Junior

Thursday, 12th November 1970

Most pupils still find difficulty in reading and writing, but I'm quite fluent. Starting from this month, I will be keeping a diary; I feel the need, maybe because my problems have begun to accumulate: Day by day, the other children prove to be more cunning than me, with a natural inclination to deception. Since I've never had such qualities, I have already become a sitting duck for many rascals. As I am rather credulous, it is very easy for them to talk me into giving them my toys and stationery. On the other hand, I never think of fooling anyone. I have no gumption, they often say.

During the breaks, I usually stand alone in a corner and watch the others playing around and having fun. The only classmate who talks to me is Dimitri, a neurotic mischief who accosts me because he wants my pens, rubbers, pencils, or toys. As soon as he gets what he wants, he disappears. This morning he told me -probably sincerely: "Yvonne, If anyone annoys you, come and tell me!". I don't intend to do so, of course.

Tuesday, 24th November 1970

During the first break, Penny and I were walking and talking in the schoolyard, when a party of four children hastened towards us, shouting: "Look, stupid Yvonne is friends with Penny!" They all started hitting me, then they pushed me down and mocked: "Now Penny is coming with us!" Finally, the gang went away, laughing ironically. Penny let them take her off without saying anything, as if she had not realized what was happening.

Monday, 14th December, 1970

I was a little late today at school. When I arrived, the bell had already rung and the pupils were in their classes. As soon as I sat at my desk, I realized something was wrong: There was no lesson; all the children were crying, shouting, bewailing. I was told immediately that two of our classmates, Penny and Helen, were run over by a car on their way to school this morning. They were in hospital now and they were about to die. Yet, what astonished me most, was the fact that I couldn't feel any sorrow.

A little later, we were informed that Helen was out of danger, but Penny was still expected to die any moment: "Penny's left only six minutes of life!" cried the girls around me. I tried hard to shed a tear, but I just couldn't.

"How many minutes?" I only wondered.

"Six! In six minutes Penny will die!" answered Angie, the girl sitting behind me, while a storm of tears and sobs was raging all around.

As about me, still nothing. The imminent death of a schoolmate caused me no emotion at all. I had to really force myself into shedding one or two tears, just for the sake of appearances.

Finally, Penny was saved "at the last moment". It was a great relief for everybody to see her returning from the hospital in a taxi. Most probably, she had never been in danger at all; my classmates were just being hysterical.

Sunday, 27th December 1970

I have recently discovered the reading-book my father had when he was in the sixth class of elementary school. I enjoy reading its stories but I like especially the poems, which I usually learn by heart. What has impressed me most is a poem about the Labours of Heracles: it has big verses written in puristic Greek, and it takes two and a half pages. I've read it only twice and memorized it already. I take great pleasure in reciting it wherever I go. Some people look at me in wonder. Others, mostly neighbours, get annoyed and make a wry face. For example, aunt Pauline was not at all happy to hear me reciting the poem this afternoon. "Why don't you wash the dishes instead?" she scolded me.

Tuesday, 9th February 1971

Back to school, after having my tonsils removed. Early in the morning, as I was walking unwarily across the yard, I heard fat Yanni shouting to his skinny friend: "Let's go and beat Yvonne, who is always sick!" They both approached in skipping steps and started hitting me, just like that, without any reason. I put up a sturdy resistance, I even managed to overpower the skinny boy, but I wasn't strong enough to beat the fat one too. So, I had to retreat crying in pain, feeling defeated and humiliated.

Monday, 15th February 1971

Away from school, things are a little better for me: Almost every day, I meet my friend Gregory and other children of the neighbourhood and we play lots of games like hopscotch, hide-and-seek, tag, the statues, the apples. We have a nice time, although Gregory is always playing tricks on me and then he tells the others that I am a fool.

As about aunt Pauline, his mother, she always trumpets forth that "Yvonne is silly. When she sees me on the road, she doesn't say ''hello'' or ''how do you do''. She is too foolish for that!". By the way, is there a seven-year-old child, who cares about greeting the adults while playing in the street?

This afternoon, I had a really bad fight with Gregory, because he insisted that one of my toy cars was his. Our mothers soon got wind of the fuss and they both came out to see what was wrong. The two women had a sparring match and in the end my mum cried: "Everybody tells me that Yvonne is stupid! If only all children were as good pupils as Yvonne is!" These words will be echoing in my ears for decades...

Friday, 5th March 1971

This morning we went on a school trip to Porto Rafti: After I had spent a lot of time vainly trying to join any party of children, I finally ended up alone on a pebbly beach. I stood there and watched the frothy waves for a while, experiencing a rare tranquility. Suddenly, all the others seemed to be far away; there was only me, the dark blue sea and an empty packet of cigarettes pitching on the foamy waves. I was blissfully immersed in the natural environment, when some children approached and giggled obtrusively. One of them pushed me hard and I stumbled clumsily; they all mocked at me and walked away quickly.

Later in the afternoon, when it was time to leave, all the children lined up in threes near the coaches. All at once, I had a strong premonition that the girl standing next to me would fall in the narrow ditch which yawned a few metres ahead. We started walking towards our vehicle, and when we reached the ditch, the girl did fall into it up to her thighs! She burst into crying, and I wondered how she had actually managed to fall into a hole which was not wider than the length of her feet.

Saturday, 27th March 1971

Unfortunately, I am growing into a very sickly child: Either I cough, or I have the flu, or I have childhood diseases (measles, mumps, chicken pox etc), but I always have a cold. However, for some strange reason, my mother never gives me paper tissues when I go to school; she only gives me a small fabric handkerchief. After the second hour, I start wiping my nose with the sleeves of my blue pinafore.

The nasty colds (nose and eyes running non-stop) first appeared when I was four years old and they last from October to April every year. Strangely enough, no medicine can relieve me. Moreover, I have also come out in pimples. My whole face is covered with them and my classmates wonder:

"What on earth are these?"

"Maybe an infection!" some of them suppose.

"Or mosquito bites!" some others say.

Tuesday, 30th March 1971

This afternoon my parents took me to a dermatologist to see my pimples. After a short examination, he diagnosed acne and prescribed an ointment, which will soon prove to do little good. This means that at the age of seven I have a symptom that normally appears during adolescence.

I really don't know what's happening to me. Sometimes I think I am under a black magic spell: I am obliged to go around always with a red runny nose and lots of greasy pimples all over my face. No wonder that my classmates dislike and avoid me...

Friday, 2nd April 1971

Hoping to reduce the frequency of my colds, my parents decided that I should undergo another operation, the third one in eight months: First I had my tonsils removed, then my appendicitis, today my nasal adenoids.

As soon as we arrived at the hospital this morning, I was surprised to see that it was just a cheap clinic. A little later I found out that the operation would be performed without any anesthesia, which scared me out of my wits! I tried to fall asleep, so as not to be awake during the operation, but I was too stressed to have a wink.

When the time came, I had to wait outside the operating-theater together with twenty other children. They all entered one by one, stayed there for some minutes and then came out quietly. I didn't hear any of them cry or even complain, in or out of the operating-theater. Obviously, I was the only one who was frightened, but I didn't dare show anything.

When my turn came (I was the last one), the doctors made me sit on a white metal chair, where they tied my arms and legs with leather straps. I wanted to show courage, but I just couldn't. Almost immediately, I burst into crying and fought so hard that I eventually managed to free myself. They tied me to the chair again and started picking my nostrils with some kind of lancets. It didn't last more than five minutes, it didn't hurt much, but I kept on screaming and crying until I saw my blood streaming down the white cloth I was wearing. I was shocked, yet I felt relieved because it was over at last.

... At the end of the school year, despite my being an excellent student in all subjects, I didn't manage to be upgraded with full marks because I had been absent for too many days (more than 60), as the teacher explained.

Friday, 25th June 1971

Returning from her village in Mani a few days ago, Mrs Lemony, our new neighbour, brought us a bottle filled with handmade liquid butter. This morning the bottle was half-empty and we found a small knitting needle inside! My mother mentioned that to Mrs Lemony, who apologized and excused herself by saying that it was done by mistake. Strange mistake, though...

Saturday, 17th July 1971

Mrs Lemony has become a very good friend of ours. Almost every day she comes and keeps us company. Even when mum is not at home, she comes and talks with my father for hours. Ten days ago she brought us a strange, ugly flower. She told us that it is sacred and considered to be "the flower of Virgin Mary". It must be kept in a basin of water, where it grows continually. "But don't you ever throw it away, or Virgin Mary will be angry," said Mrs Lemony.

However, this morning my mother decided to get rid of the so-called "flower of Virgin Mary", because it is very ugly and gets bigger and bigger every day. The water basin is already too small for it. Moreover, as we have recently learned, it is not at all sacred; it is just a fungus of dubious origin.

Sunday, 8th August 1971

Just like last year, I am spending the summer in Lixouri, on the island of Cefallonia, where my father's kin live. Surprisingly, all my problems disappear miraculously when I am here. Nobody makes fun of me or calles me "stupid" here. Every day we go for a swim at nearby beaches with aunt Domna and her two daughters, Jenny and Niki. We spend the rest of the day playing in the earthen streets. I get along very well with Jenny, who is two years older than me. I wouldn't say the same about Niki, who is a year younger: Sometimes she gets angry about the merest trifle and she is in the sulks for the whole day.

This afternoon we were hunting butterflies. While playing, I accidentally ruined the wings of one by mistake. "That was a queen butterfly, and God will send you to hell for that! You hear? You will go to hell for that!" exclaimed Niki grimly. I don't know why, but that sentence struck me really bad...

Chapter 4: Class C Junior

Monday, 8th November 1971

I am in the third class now. My only friend at school is Tonia, a quiet, obese girl, who is repeating the same class for the third time. During the breaks we usually play jacks.

Unfortunately, this year I happen to be sitting at the same desk with Lisa: she is a stocky, cunning girl, who does nothing but make fun of me all the time. "If you don't give me your pen, I will tell the teacher that you talk smut!" she threatened me this morning. I didn't respond immediately, so she put on an air of anger and raised her hand ostentatiously. I had no choice but do her the favour immediately before she told the teacher, who usually believes Lisa's lies and whacks me with the ruler.

Wednesday, 17th November 1971

This morning we went on a school treat to the nearby mountain. I was playing quietly by myself, since Tonia was absent today, when I was suddenly surrounded by a gang of children. Shouting and giggling mockingly, they destroyed the little house I had just built with stones, and then they went away laughing. A little later, as I was wandering aimlessly among the pine trees, I found a small wallet on the ground. I was naive enough to show it to a boy. He took it from me by deceit, telling me that it was he who had lost it. And I believed him.

A little later I saw Anastasia, a corpulent girl from my class, coming towards me weeping. She was accompanied by a rabble of vociferating children. Full of wrath and threats, they accused me of having stolen that wallet from her! Then they grabbed me all together and dragged me to the teachers, as if I were a criminal. I was crying all the way, telling them that I had found the wallet and given it to a boy, because he had said it was his. Nobody listened. Before even realizing it, I was standing before the teachers, who immediately scolded me "Where did you soil your your hands like that?", while the bawls of the rabble were ringing unintelligible in my ears. Anyway, due to lack of evidence, I was finally acquitted by the "court", although Anastasia and her friends still insisted that I was a thief.

Friday, 19th November 1971

As soon as we entered the classroom and sat at our desks, Anastasia came to me and apologized because, as she had discovered in retrospect, she had forgotten her wallet in her schoolbag. "Well, never mind" I told her. Anyway, I don't think that Anastasia herself had thought of blaming me. In all probability, it was somebody else's idea to accuse me of stealing, because they wanted to cause me a problem.

When I returned home, my mother informed me that she had had a bad quarrel with Mrs Lemony this morning. In fact, mum accused our neighbour that she has been flirting my father for months now and this was confirmed by an anonymous phone call last night. "If only it were true!" said Mrs Lemony to defend herself. In any case, I believe that this woman is jealous of us because my father is a captain while her husband is only a fisherman.

Starting from tomorrow, and for many years to go, we will often find broken eggshells dyed dark purple, right outside our front door...

Monday, 22nd November 1971

This morning the teacher announced something peculiar: "A number of cholera cases have recently been identified in northern Greece; therefore, all Greek children must be vaccinated against this disease! And the vaccination will take place here, at school, tomorrow morning!". Once I heard it, I spontaneously had some queries: Why, indeed, is it necessary for all Greek children to get into this trouble, just because of a few cholera cases? Besides, as far as I know, cholera is curable nowadays, isnt' it?

However, I have a bigger problem than that: Ever since I was a small girl, I have always been terrified of injections and needles. Whenever my mother takes me to the doctor for a blood test, I cry my eyes out, I make a din and it takes four nurses to hold me and get the job done. In this case, however, acting like that is out of the question.

Tuesday, 23rd November 1971

When the time came, all pupils lined up in threes in the school yard, each one waiting for their name to be heard and go into the teachers' office. Normally I would have already started crying, but this time I had no other alternative but keep my temper at all costs. Woe is me if I dare scream or cry in front of everyone: Right from the next moment, I would become the laughing-stock of the whole school.

However, what impressed me most was the fact that none of the other children looked scared. As I was waiting for my turn, full of anxiety, I kept observing all faces again and again, expecting to detect a sign of fear in anybody's eyes. Nothing. All the pupils looked carefree, as if nothing was going on. Only when short Lucy entered the teachers' office and got injected, I heard a classmate shouting: "Look! Lucy is trembling!". Many children laughed. The girl was obviously trembling of fear but she didn't dare make a sound.

When my turn came, I clenched my teeth and kept my temper perfectly. So, nobody got wind of my being afraid. Fortunately, the needle was very thin and didn't hurt at all. Moreover, I was surprised to see that there were hundreds of ejections, one for each child – an unprecedented luxury in those years.

Tuesday, 30th November 1971

This afternoon I had a strange accident: I was studying in my room, when suddenly I heard a voice calling me from the yard. I thought it was Gregory, so I stood up and got out of the house at once, leaving the door of the kitchen open. The weather was cold and the wind was blowing hard. As I was passing by the shut window pane of my room, it suddenly broke into a thousand pieces and some of them were hurled against me. A sharp glass blade hurt the side of my right leg, opening a deep wound, while smaller pieces scratched my calf. It took us a long time to stop the bleeding. In all likelihood, it will leave a scar. Anyway, no serious damage was done; I suppose this could have gone a lot worse...

Monday, 6th December 1971

On the way to school this morning I met Martha, a blond girl who comes from Sweden. She is in the fourth class and happens to be a real ignoramus, since the highest of her marks is 6. We were talking calmly, when she suddenly spat out: "Yesterday I met Urania and she told me that she doesn't want to play again with you and your sister, because you are both stupid!".

I was taken aback because Urania had come to my house on Saturday afternoon, we had played for many hours and we had had a nice time. So, where was the problem?

Yet, that was not all: As we were walking past the church of St Tryfon, which is opposite our school, Martha glared at me and said:

"You are not a Christian!"

"Why do you say that?" I wondered.

"Because you don't make the sign of the cross!" she roared and crossed herself in an ostentatious manner, to show that she was a Christian. I felt obliged to do the same.

Tuesday, 18th January 1972

It's hard to say why but, for a few months now, whenever it rains I'm seized with fright! That's because I fear that the slightest rain might end up in a cataclysm! Perhaps I have been overly influenced by religion. If the rain lasts more than an hour, I start crying wherever I am.

It has been drizzling all day today. Yet, as I was returning from school early in the afternoon, the drizzle became a downpour. I really tried to contain myself but it proved to be impossible for me. Finally, I started weeping in the middle of the road. The other pupils wondered and I had to explain:

"I don't like the rain! What if it becomes a cataclysm?"

"You don't need to be afraid Yvonne, because the rainbow always comes out after the rain. This is God's promise that there will never be another cataclysm. Don't you know that?", Tonia reassured me and I felt better immediately.

From that moment my phobia started to fade away, until it disappeared completely after two or three days.

Saturday, 29th January 1972

I have another problem too, which first appeared about a month ago: I have a strange feeling that my parents don't love me and that they intend to kill me! "I was told to slaughter her in the backyard!" I heard my mother confess to a neighbour the other day, and I was scared stiff. A couple of days later, I was really relieved to learn that she meant one of our hens, which had cackled like a cock -a bad omen. "You will die!" dad told me this afternoon because I didn't want to eat my dinner. That spoilt my appetite completely. Fortunately, this obsession will not last longer than a few more days.

Saturday, 18th March 1972

In the evening aunt Wilma and her mother paid us an unexpected visit. The strange thing is that they came from Piraeus without uncle William, who is her husband and my mother's cousin. Then, something even more peculiar happened: While mum was in the kitchen making coffee, the two women grabbed a large decorative doll we had on the couch and pulled it apart! They took the head, the legs and the arms off and then they threw all the pieces out in the rubbish bin, on the grounds that the doll was too old! While this was happening, the two women were bantering and screaming like frenzied. I was just looking at them puzzled and did nothing to stop them.

Friday, 21st April 1972

It's been exactly one month since the day my youngest sister, Jasmine, was born. Everybody says she is a very beautiful baby -like all spastics are. Due to the indifference of the staff in the maternity hospital, my mother was left all alone in a room for several hours. In the meanwhile, the umbilical cord broke and hang out of my mother's body for more than an hour, but nobody got wind of it. As a result, the baby was left without oxygen and eventually she was born with quadriplegia: Her whole body is paralyzed and she suffers from mental retardation too. Since she was thought to die soon, she was hastily baptized in the maternity ward. Her godmother is a Mrs Melina, who will never put in an appearance again.

When my dad first went to the maternity hospital, he came back very angry and said that the baby had a strange sag on her head, which means that it had been bumped! He wanted to sue the doctors, but everybody dissuaded him from doing so because "there is no way you can get to the bottom of this, there is no proof; let alone that doctors always back up each other, no matter what!"

Sunday, 16th July 1972

My cousin Annita has come from Cefallonia and she will stay with us for a couple of weeks. We usually get along well, but she keeps saying that I am in great danger of being killed by the police!

One day last summer, when I was in Lixouri, I dag a hole in her garden with my toy spade. According to her, lots of water came out of the hole and flooded the whole island, and ever since the local police have been looking for me, with the intention of killing me! "If they find you, they'll shoot you to death!" she says with a grim face and I feel a little scared, because I can't rule out the possibility of her telling the truth...

Chapter 5: Class D Junior

Sunday, 10th September 1972

This afternoon Alice quarreled with an older girl in the playground. "I will tell my big sister!", she moaned and pointed at me. I was on a swing, when I suddenly saw that girl standing beside me, waving her hand before me threateningly, as if she were about to hit me. "Who do you think your sister is? If I give her a slap, she will fall to pieces!" she yelled at Alice. My first reaction was to blink in surprise; then I decided to stand up for myself, so as not to be called "stupid" or "coward". There followed a battle royal, then the other girl ran to fetch her older brothers and I fetced my mother. I didn't really understand how, but we finally made it up.

Tuesday, 7th November 1972

Well, the above bully was meant to become my best friend during this school year. We happen to be classmates, her name is Barbara and she is already well known at school as a liar and a thief. Constantly trumpeting forth that her family is destitute, she has already fooled many children into giving her various things: stationery, clothes, shoes, toys, even jewellery. According to what they say, if she is not given anything, she steals it with dexterity. Everybody warns me about her but I don't pay much heed, maybe because I need her friendship; apart from boring Tonia, Barbara is the only child at school who is willing to keep me company. Besides, we do have fun together...

Wednesday, 15th November 1972

During the first months of her life, Jasmine didn't look any different from a normal baby, so I was not particularly concerned about her. Besides, I like to believe that when she grows up, she may overcome her problem. In fact, until recently Jasmine's health showed a steady improvement: She had already started to lift her head, she was also about to sit like a normal baby. The doctors who saw her were very pleased. However, about a month ago, she ran a temperature of 41.5º Celcius that wouldn't go down. The doctors diagnosed brain fever, which lasted for days and broke her once for all: She will never lift her head again, she will never sit; from now on, she will always be lying in bed.

As about my mother, she is not only devastated but she often receives malicious comments as well:

"It seems you have many sins, that's why God gave you this child; he wanted to punish you," aunt Domna told her the other day.

"Is this your daughter's baby?" she is often asked by other women, whenever we go to the playground.

"If I had such a child, I would kill it!" said aunt Penelope, my sister's godmother, when she visited us yesterday afternoon.

... As time passes, Jasmine's disability will become more and more obvious, while hope will be waning day by day. Soon we'll start taking her to a center for spastic children, where she will have kinesitherapy; in my opinion, this doesn't bring much result. But I always love my little sister, I take her in my lap, sing her songs and hope that some day she will get well, perhaps by a miracle.

Wednesday, 6th December 1972

Growing up, I feel it is not right to shun others and always retire into my shell. So, I often push myself into groups of children, even if their behaviour sometimes confuses me: When I avoid them, they call me silly; when I approach them, they make fun of me. I do my best to be friendly and pleasant, I often ignore teasings or I respond with a smile of understanding. I even do them occasional favours so as to become more likeable. Yet, I can see that this strategy brings poor results. Furthermore, I must admit that I am still very timid and I don't dare oppose anyone – maybe because I'm always alone against gangs of bullies. "Yvonne is stupid, she doesn't understand what she is told!" says Nora, the star of the class, again and again.

Unfortunately, this year I happen to be sitting at the same desk with Anna Harrisis, a corpulous girl who takes pleasure in terrifying me, using her large size and the high number of her friends. She always tries to be clever, she steals my things and derides me all the time, just to show how smart she is.

Yesterday I agreed to exchange my rubber jumping rope for her fancy pen. Today, during the first break, Anna suddenly appeared before me together with the horde of her lumpish friends. In her hands she was holding the rubber rope, which had now been reduced to a dirty rag full of knots. I really wondered, how she had achieved that so quickly!

"I want my pen back, Yvonne! And here is your jumping rope!" she said and stretched it before me in an ostentatious manner. "This is your rope, Yvonne!" she repeated pompously.

I tried to protest but I shut up quickly when I faced the angry looks of the horde. So, I returned the pen and got back the useless rope.

"You see how dumb she is? She always does what she is told!" I heard Anna saying mockingly, as she and her underlings were moving off. I just stood behind alone, feeling sad and humiliated.

Friday, 12th January 1973

Since the beginning of the schoolyear I have been collecting cards that depict various characters from animated cartoons. I find them in certain chocolates, I'm very fond of them and I have almost completed the entire collection.

However, there is a problem: Alice always wants half of whatever I have. She has often asked me to give her half of my cards too. This afternoon she grouched and grouched, so I decided to give her the cards I have in double. They are quite a few, but obviously not enough for her. She demanded to have exactly half of my basic collection and she wanted to choose which ones! I refused, we had a row, Alice turned on the waterworks (as usual) and mum came immediately to see what was wrong: "Give half of your cards to the infant, you big one!" she shouted angrily. I disagreed, Alice kept on wailing like a siren, and mum found it right to tear as many of my cards as possible, totally deaf to my entreaties and blind to my tears. Finally, something broke inside me and I tore myself all the remaining cards...

Tuesday, 20th February 1973

Early in the afternoon, at about 4:00 o'clock, I happened to meat Anna Harrisis on the road. She was going to the baker's to buy a loaf of bread. We walked there together, but we found the shop closed, since it was due to open at 5:30 again, like every day. "And this means that I must return home empty-handed? No way!" she growled.

Without hesitating at all, Anna made for the baker's house, which is right behind the shop, and rang the bell many times until the whole family got out of bed and answered the door. To my surprise, not only were they all smiles to her, but they also opened the shop before its time for the countess to buy half a kilo of bread.

Friday, 9th March 1973

As soon as I got into the classroom this morning, I noticed a big bunch of flowers lying on the first desk. Almost immediately I was informed that one of our classmates had been killed in a car accident two days before.

"Who is it?" I asked to know.

"Fotis Armaos!" answered Mary, who sits in front of me.

I was staggered at the terrible news. Fotis had been absent from school for two days, and we all had assumed he were ill. And he had always been my first love, ever since we were in the first grade.

We didn't have a lesson today. All the pupils of my class lined up in threes and we walked to Fotis' house, where we saw his black-dressed mother crying and sobbing, just before the funeral started. We followed the hearse to the local cemetery and we attended the burial rites. I was feeling a deep sorrow, like something sinking inside me. In all, I don't think it was a good thing that the class attended the funeral. In my opinion, this was not good, either for the children or for the dead boy's parents.

Tuesday, 13th March 1973

Almost every day Barbara coerces me into giving her various objects, such as pencil cases, drawing colours, pens, rubbers etc, taking advantage of my fad about the cards of animated cartoons. She has promised many times to provide me with rare cards that I don't have, or numbers over 150, which only she has and no one else. "I have just lost the cards, but I'm sure they are somewhere in my house. As soon as I find them, I will give them to you! Tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow!" she always says. Deep inside I know she is lying, but I need to believe her. Anyway, I can't be angry at her, because her family is very poor indeed.

This afternoon, while we were going to the grocer's together, she showed me her mother's purse with two drachmas in. "You see? This is all the money we've got!" she told me sadly.

Friday, 16th March 1973

Barbara's demands are increasing day by day. I can hardly anticipate her wishes. No longer contented with school supplies, she keeps asking for more and more of my clothes: blouses, skirts, jackets, shoes, gloves, hats, even embroideries!

This afternoon my mother lost her patience completely, as soon as she saw that my beautiful new shoes were gone. And not only that:

"My gold medallion has also disappeared from the drawer, where it was locked! She stole it!" shouted mum, fume and fret at me.

"Barbara never takes anything unless I give it to her!" I protested.

However, my mother was adamant: "Listen well! If I ever see her in our house again, I will kick her out and I will beat you black and blue! Got it?"

So, I have to make up my mind and start keeping Barbara at a distance. Anyway, she will soon make herself scarce, as soon as she realizes that she isn't going to get anything else from me.

Sunday, 30th April 1973

Gregory and I were playing quietly in his yard this evening, when Martha and a friend of hers passed by. It was Gregory's idea to start teasing them; soon we started calling each other names. All of a sudden, aunt Pauline rushed out of the house, complained about the fuss and took her son inside, slamming the door in my face. This means that I was left all alone in the yard, against the two Swedish cows, both older and bigger than me. "You are a nitwit! Why were you laughing?" roared Martha, with her arms akimbo. I sought to blame Gregory, he had started it anyway, but Martha wasn't listening to a word I was saying. She just pushed me down violently and shouted: "Get out of here now, you idiot!". Then, the two lumps got away laughing. I ran home at once and didn't stop crying until late at night.

Wednesday, 3rd May 1973

Once again, mother demanded that, right after lunch, I should eat two slices of bread, spread with butter and sugar. That's because, according to her, I never eat enough. After many quarrels about this, I have finally figured out what the right thing to do is: I don't argue with her anymore; instead, I take the two fatty slices of bread eagerly, then I go out to the yard and throw them into the adjacent building plot. Mother suspects nothing and we are all happy.

Food has always been a settled stress for me: Since my early childhood, I have always refused to eat my meals, usually saying "I don't want any more" after the first spoonful. As a result, I often got spanked. One day, when I was four, I got so much spanking that I cried myself to sleep; mum was worried and vowed never to beat me up again -because of food.

As long as I can remember, mum has always been stuck in the kitchen, incessantly cooking and cramming our mouths with food, for fear of our being undernourished. I reckon that just like most of her peer women, my mother suffers from the "postwar syndrome" (my term!), that is constant fear that the German Occupation might return any minute. Whenever I refuse to eat some disgusting dish, macaroni with chopped cuttlefish for instance, she frowns at me and says: "Eat up your food! Thin people don't survive an Occupation! What will you do if the Germans come again?". In general, mum is convinced that if someone wants to be healthy and happy, they should eat lots of meat, lots of fat, lots of oil, lots of butter, lots of bread, lots of pasta, lots of milk, lots of everything, all the time.

Wednesday, 12th September 1973

This summer proved to be the happiest of my life. I spent three wonderful months playing on the road with old friends such as Gregory, Urania, Tassos and others. From time to time a friendly neighbour, who used to work for a travel agency, invited all the children to get on his coach and took us to the Diamond Beach, in Glyfada.

Every day there were about fifteen children in my neighbourhood, especially outside my house, playing football, volleyball, rackets, the soldiers, hopscotch, hide-and-seek, tag, the apples, etc.

We all stayed out till midnight, and during all those hours the whole place reverberated with cheerful voices, songs from radios, or thumps from balls and rackets.

I do enjoy our street being full of life; nevertheless, I find it a little strange that in the rest of the city you will seldom see even one child playing out on the road. As if there were no kids in other neighbourhoods...

Chapter 6: Class E Junior

Wednesday, 14th November 1973

I'm in the fifth class now, I am growing older and taller and my problems grow bigger too. And the worst of all: Two months ago I had my first period! I am only ten years old, I still feel like a child, my body is absolutely childlike, yet I menstruate!

I still play on the road and go to the playground, but the persistent admonitions of the adults spoil all the fun: "You must not go to the playground ever again, you are a woman now!" ... "Don't run like this, you are a lady now!" ... "You are so tall, you must be over eighteen, and you still play with the little ones?" someone told me this afternoon, while I was on a swing.

Tuesday, 20th November 1973

This morning we went on a school treat to the mountain. When I got bored of wandering alone, I asked to play "the apples" with a group of many children. They didn't refuse at once, however it soon became clear that there was a player too many. Somebody had to leave the game, but who?

"Yvonne!" they all shouted in unison, pointing at me aggressively. Only Christina raised a mild objection: "Not Yvonne, why?..." but she shut up quickly, as she saw that the others were glaring at her.

Fortunately, right at that moment another pupil came and joined us, so I wasn't obliged to leave – although the team that had to include me was not very happy about it. Anyway, I must admit I'm not so good at this game, since I am a little sluggish. The rival team always leaves me last for the ten final rounds; I rarely manage to finish them without being hit with the ball.

Friday, 18th January, 1974

This year our teacher is Mr Kakoyannis, a podgy obnoxious man who doesn't seem to like me at all. He always scolds me or whacks me with the ruler, usually for no reason. This morning, during the history lesson, I unconsciously started playing with a piece of paper, making a characteristic sound that could be heard all around. Suddenly, the teacher's eyes almost popped out in anger and he roared: "Who is doing this? I will put it her mouth!" All the children burst out laughing. I was embarrassed and stopped at once, but I didn't avoid being thwacked with the ruler.

Saturday, 23rd February 1974

I hate physical education. It's the most thankless and boring lesson. This time, the teacher made us do a very stupid exercise: We sat down, fixed our hands back on the ground and stretched out the whole body, while the head should be falling back. "Throw your head back! Back I said!" Mr Kakoyannis screamed, but I had no idea he meant me, although I was the only pupil who hadn't thrown the head back. "Just look at her, isn't she like a viper!" he roared and ran towards me furious.

Before I could react anyhow, he grabbed my head in his two hands and pushed it violently down, with all his strength. I heard a terrible "crack" and my neck ached incredibly. I started crying immediately, for fear I had just broken something, and I didn't dare move.

While this was happening, my mother happened to be in the schoolyard. She had come to ask the teacher about me, and she was waiting for the gymnastics lesson to finish. She saw everything but didn't react at all...

Tuesday, 12th March 1974

As we have recently been informed by the teacher, a Pan-European painting contest has been organized for children of the fifth and sixth grade and I decided to participate. It took me three afternoons to paint my picture on cardboard and today is the day I must submit it.

I feel satisfied about my work: I have painted a girl and a boy playing volleyball in a country field. I have left the vast sky uncoloured but I think my painting is not at all bad for an eleven-year-old child. However, when I arrived at school this morning, my enthusiasm began to wane as soon as I found out something peculiar: Many children, about whom I didn't even know they can paint, had brought amazing paintings made with great detail and wonderful colour combinations -as if they were professional painters!

When we entered the classroom, the teacher called us one by one and asked to see our works of art before giving his approval for participation in the contest. As soon as I showed him mine, he frowned and shouted: "It's half-coloured! Take it back!". I ran to my desk at once and spent the rest of the hour colouring the vast sky in a frenzy. The blue pencil marks looked rather sloppy on the smooth cardboard.

Once the bell rang for the first break, Marina (the prodigy of the class, she paints very well too), gathered all the paintings except mine and set out for the teachers' office. If she arrived there before me, it would be too late: The teacher had said that all paintings should be submitted in class; he wasn't going to accept any others in his office. Working frantically, I finished my work and rushed to the stairs looking for Marina. I had to climb down a torrent of children and fight with some of them in order to reach her in time, but I finally made it.

Strange, however: I was the only one in the whole school who had to struggle so hard in order to take part in the contest. All the other paintings were accepted without any problem, although some of them didn't meet the requirements: We were allowed to use only pencil colours on cardboard, but many participants had used water colours, temperas, oil colours on canvas, and who knows what else. Yet, none of these works was rejected as inappropriate. On the contrary, one of them even got a prize: it was an oil painting of a girl by a waterfall, fine but not anything amazing...

Saturday, 23rd March 1974

Some of my classmates, like Nora, Anna, Mary and others, are almost fully developed women. They already have the right curves and they also flirt boys, which makes them even more popular and puts them higher in the class hierarchy. I, on the other hand, keep growing taller and thinner: I am 1.62 m tall now but no heavier than 40 kilos. Moreover, everybody agrees that I am very ungraceful.

As a result, there is a general outcry against me: "You look like a telegraph post!" ... "You are as thin as a rake!" ... "You look like a skeleton!" ... "You walk too fast and you jump up and down, like a stork!" ... "You can't talk, you gibber!" ... "The giraffe is coming! Come and see the giraffe!"

"Hey, you, do you still go to elementary school?" an unknown woman asked me, as I was going to school this morning.

"No, I go to the kindergarten", I answered.

Thursday, 4th April 1974

Almost every afternoon I meet my old friends in the street, but this year my best friend is Angie. She is a new neighbour, with whom I get along very well. We have great fun together, when we play hopscotch or rackets, for hours every day.

Today, however, Angie and the others were nowhere to find, so I agreed to play dice with two neighbours and classmates of mine: Theodore and Alex (cunning foxes, both). The prize for the winner would be twenty old comics. I felt really surprised when, after a lot of playing time, fortune seemed to be smiling at me. Little by little, I finally won all the magazines -to the boys' great disappointment.

Friday, 5th April 1974

This evening, Theodore and Alex appeared in my yard unexpectedly and they suggested we should dice those comics again. I wondered about their further relish for dice but I said yes, taking into account my good luck of yesterday. What a strange thing, though: Right from the beginning, it was impossible for me to win anything – in contrast to the other two, who kept throwing double sixes exclusively! As time passed, I kept losing more and more magazines. I hoped in a positive twist of fate but in vain: Before even realizing it, I had lost all my comics!

I am really bewildered, since I don't know how to explain that mystery: I managed to beat them yesterday, but certainly not with double sixes exclusively! So, what went wrong this time? Had they done something to the dice maybe? Were they using a magnet or what? But how? I can't say I noticed anything suspicious during the game...

Wednesday, 24th April 1974

A new nightmare has come in my life: It is a very ugly boy of my age, with an unnaturally red face, who seems to dislike me a lot. His family has recently moved to an outhouse, only three building blocks away from from my neighbourhood.

This afternoon, while I was going to the baker's, he and that cow of his sister happened to see me. They were in their backyard, pretty far from me, yet they began pointing at me, screaming hysterically: "Aaaaah! Look how she walks! Hey, you camel! Haaa haaa haaaa!" The cow started walking with huge steps, in a caricature manner, and both siblings kept laughing at me. I just walked away hastily.

Tuesday, 28th May 1974

Unfortunately, the above psychopath has eventually learned my name. So, whenever I see him or any of his friends, they start screaming my name sarcastically, right in the middle of the road – just like they did early this morning, while I was going to school: "Yvonne! You giraaaaafe! You cameeeel! I'm talking to you, bloody loseeeer!". I hastened my steps and disappeared from their sight.

In the evening I met Urania and went for a walk together. Suddenly, I heard a nasty crowing voice yelling my name again and again derisively. No doubt, it was him again. I pretended I heard nothing but Urania paused right there, turned round and shouted to him stern:

"What's wrong, Vlassis? Why are you screaming?"

"I'm just calling a name!" he answered mockingly.

"Stop calling this name!" she ordered him and then we walked away quietly.

I was impressed that Vlassis shut up immediately and that my friend knew his name.

"You never talk back, they make fun of you and you never say anything, that's why such things happen to you!" Urania admonished me. Of course, she has never faced similar problems.

Tuesday, 2nd July 1974

Jasmine is growing up, she is already two years old but she can neither sit nor lift her head. She looks like a four-month-old baby. The only thing she does, is smile sweetly when we talk to her. She is still very beautiful.

This morning we paid a visit to my mother's relatives in Piraeus. My cousin Diamanta, who is a year older than me, thinks she is a lady now and she doesn't fancy playing any more. In fact, she barely talks to me. As a result, I feel very bored whenever we visit her family.

At a moment, I took Jasmine and went upstairs, to the attic. I found Billy there, who is Diamanta's nine-year-old brother and a regular jack-in-the-box. He never stops screaming and jumping around, often giving the impression that he can't control his movements. He never rests, not even in his sleep; almost every night he falls off his bed.

After I had made myself comfortable in an armchair, with the disabled child in my lap, cousin Billy grabbed a big cushion and threw it at Jasmine. The baby laughed nonsensically, and Billy repeated the offense again and again. Jasmine kept on laughing, actually having fun.

I, as usual, thought I should show humour and adaptability, by taking the whole thing as a joke. Before long, Billy started throwing the cushion more and more violently, until Jasmine burst into crying. Billy was laughing foolishly and kept on attacking the infant, who was crying frightened. Finally, I realized that the "joke" wasn't going to end soon, so I got up and left, with Jasmine in my arms, while Billy was wondering why.

Saturday, 6th July 1974

Almost every afternoon I go to the playground, where I have fun on the swings for hours. Anyway, I don't go there only for that. I have singled out a very handsome boy of my age, whose name is Chris. He is thin and lissom, with a clear white skin and black curly hair. As soon as he arrives with his friends, I run and sit on the next swing. I never have enough of watching and admiring him, as he rises very high and then jumps down, surprising everybody with his agility and boldness. He never pays any attention to me, sometimes I even have the impression that he laughs at me. I don't care, though; just seeing him every day at the swings, is enough to make me happy.

Sunday, 21st July 1974

We have been on vacation to Cefallonia for a week now. This morning I became a godmother to Jenny and Niki's little brother, who is only five months old. The sacrament took place in the church of St Gerasimos. I named the boy Vicenzo.

Initially, aunt Domna had wanted my mother to be a godmother to the baby, but mum refused because she would like to have a goddaughter rather than a godson. So, it was decided that I was the one who should do this job.

Anyway, I think it was a strange christening: Apart from my cousin Annita, there were no other guests present, although we have many relatives in Lixouri and the nearby villages. There was not even a photographer – which is quite odd, taking into account that this was the baptism of the long-desired male successor to the Fezarris family.

Chapter 7: Class F Junior

Tuesday, 26th November 1974

Being in the sixth class now, I think it's time I got rid of my bad reputation. In general, I try to control myself, so as not to occasion being mocked by the others. I also try to contain my nervousness and I refrain from talking much; I prefer to keep my mouth shut. However, this technique doesn't seem to bring significant results: Sometimes, when I am with other children, I crack bad jokes and the others make fun of me. It is just too difficult for me to always contain myself; as if there were a sinister force inside me, urging me to say what I shouldn't.

Coming home from the English tutorial school this evening, something odd happened: While I was walking under a bright street lamp, I saw the enlarged shadow of a man, which rose about 3,5 metres high. The man seemed to be wearing a coat and a hat. I found it odd because the shadow wasn't formed on the road or on a wall, but it was standing tall before me! I stopped walking and tried to discern who was really there, making such a big shadow, but I saw nobody. Apart from me, there was no one else on the road.

When I got home and told my mother about it, she said it were nothing and that I should forget the whole thing; then, she started crossing me, praying "Jesus Christ wins and dispels all evil".

Monday, 10th February 1975

Is something changing in my life? The truth is that I've been feeling a lot better about myself lately; I have become more sociable, I have gained some self-confidence, I even dare talk back when somebody makes fun of me. Not that I have a choice: When I try to ignore them, they fight me even worse.

This afternoon, as we were returning from a school treat, suddenly two girls started teasing me:

"You walk too slowly, go back!" exclaimed Mary, who was walking next to me, and pushed me to the back line.

"No, stay where you are!" shouted Nora from behind, and pushed me to the front line.

"No, go back!" Mary pushed me again.

"Stay in front, I said!" cried out Nora and pushed me too.

For a few seconds I let them push me around passively, while some other children were giggling. All at once, as if I had just woken from torpor, I made so bold as to yell at them: "Leave me alone, both of you!". Mary sought to say something but I anticipated her: "If you want to run on a marathon, here, the road is empty! Get out of the line and run as much as you like!". Both smart alecks shut up.

Friday, 21st February 1975

Strangely enough, my position in class has risen lately. I am no longer everybody's beck and call. First of all, I have become a very good pupil: I excel in all subjects and our teacher, Mr Panos, likes me a lot. Even my classmates often show their admiration for my overall knowledge.

This morning, the teacher asked the whole class: "Does anyone of you know the names of the three American astronauts who first stepped on the moon?"

Only I raised my hand, gave the right answer and left everybody speechless.

"But, sir, is it possible that she knows everything?" some children wondered.

Saturday, 19th April 1975

It's happening more and more often, and I have been thinking about it: Every time she sees me, aunt Penelope sends me on errands. This happens almost every day, sometimes more than once in a day.

This afternoon she told me to go and buy her a water melon, which proved to be too heavy for me and my hands ached a lot. It really gets on my nerves when I have to interrupt my games and do her favours, but I just can't refuse.

In the evening my godmother paid us a visit and brought presents and Easter candles for me and my sister. Weird, though: Just before unwrapping the candles, my godmother's seven-year-old daughter exclaimed: "Watch out! One of them is broken!" Indeed, as soon as we took the candles out of their cardboard cases, we saw that one of them, in fact mine, was broken in two pieces. I wondered how the kid had known that, although I had expected it: Every year, the Easter candle my godmother brings for me happens to be broken; maybe because of the long car journey from Piraeus to our house...

Monday, 12th May 1975

This afternoon aunt Penelope came to our house steaming with anger. Obviously, she had some grievances against us.

"You are making us curse!" she snorted wrathful. "You have filled the two plots between us with building materials and Orpheus, my son, goes there all the time and he gets black with dirt! I demand that you do something about it as soon as possible!"

"But what can we do?" asked my mother passively.

"Fence the plots! Fence them both with wire! Otherwise, I don't know what happens!"

I wondered at Penelope's demand, as well as at my mother's promise to fence a stranger's land. For the last two years we have been building two more storeys over our house. Thus, we put the building materials in the adjacent empty plots. Where else could we put them? On the road? Besides, Penelope's son, the two-year-old Orpheus, is nothing but a handful. Neither his mother nor his father can handle him, and he usually goes around stark naked. That's why the children of the neighbourhood have nicknamed him "Adam".

Monday, 23rd June 1975

To my great disappointment, neither this year was I meant to be upgraded with full marks. I got the elementary school certificate with a 9, just like many other children who didn't deserve it at all.

"Their mothers come and tell me: Give him a 9 on the certificate, otherwise my husband will beat him up", explained Mr Panos to my mother.

Anyway, I can't see what this has to do with me: He could have given me a 10, because I deserved it this year, especially in comparison with some others.

There is another thing that's bringing me down too: Since the end of the school year, my good friend Angie has vanished. It is said that her family has moved to another city. This means that I shall never see her again...

### Chapter 8: Class A Gymnasium

Monday, 3rd November 1975

I am a pupil of gymnasium (junior high school) now and I can't say I like it: To me it's still an unknown place, with unknown faces. My old schoolmates are nowhere to see. Alone amongst hundreds of unfamiliar persons, I feel like a fish out of water. My self-confidence seems to be gone. I spent my first month here standing near the stairway for hours, while big parties of children were coming and going all around me, full of joy and liveliness. A few times I attempted to get into a circle and talk with the others, but as soon as I approached everybody got away at once, as if an alarm had sounded.

The only friend I managed to find was Lina, a beautiful, tall girl with long brown hair and good manners. She was very friendly to me and she also introduced me to her party. Yet, it's been a week now that Lina has disappeared from school and her friends have been avoiding me ever since. I will never see her again...

I sit alone at a desk in the left row. Right behind me, there is a corpulent lump sitting, called Nicky. All she does is pester me continuously, so much that I can hardly listen to the lessons. I often complain and tell her to get off my back, but she never lets me be. When I pay no heed to her, she starts hitting me or pushing her desk towards me, like a maniac. Sometimes she squashes me so bad that I can't even breathe.

This morning, during the ancient Greek lesson, she pushed her desk against me so violently that I got a terrible backache and spent the whole hour crying. I wonder, though: The masters here are very strict. If you just whisper to somebody during the lesson, they throw you out of the class immediately. However, Nicky makes a din whenever she pesters me, but the masters never make the slightest remark to her.

Wednesday, 19th November 1975

There are also some boys, who go to the second class; whenever I see them on the way to school, they start screaming like lunatics: "Hey you, nitwit! You walk like a stork, you hen!" Only this morning did I realize they mean me! I can't do anything about it, so I just ignore them. Still I wonder: Why do they have it in for me? I'm nothing but an insignificant pupil of the first class. And another thing: The same boys happen to be my classmates in the English tutorial school, where I go twice a week. They pay absolutely no attention to me there. Isn't this weird?

Friday, 12th December 1975

I was standing alone beside the stairway, as usual, when a group of three girls approached me unexpectedly. They are all in my class, and they are all disabled: one of them suffers from very severe scoliosis, another always wears a collar around her neck, and the third one is on a wheelchair because her left leg is half a metre shorter than her right leg; nevertheless, she is an excellent student.

All three of them are polite and friendly, I am doing my best to go along with them, yet neither this friendship is meant to last: It will end very soon, without any specific reason, in a vague sadness.

Monday, 26th January, 1976

During the breaks I often get pestered by two arrant vixens from a higher class. As far as I have heard, they bother other children too. Obviously, they take pleasure in causing problems to lonely, shy pupils. I, who always stand alone by the stairway, am the ideal victim for them. Almost every day, they come and make fun of me or prick me with a needle.

In the second break today, they suddenly snatched my hair clip and ran away at once. When the bell rang, I dared go into their classroom and inform the mistress in front of everybody. Finally, they were obliged to give me my hair clip back. As I was leaving, I told them ironically: "Many happy returns!" The whole class burst into laughing.

Tuesday, 27th January 1976

However, I was not meant to relish that rare victory for long: This afternoon, right after school, the two termagants happened to get on the same bus as I did. So, they approached me stealthily from behind and snatched my hair clip again. I had to stand up, leave my seat and follow them to the rear of the bus, in order to get my hair clip back. They laughed mockingly and threw it down, close to their feet; I had to bend down in order to pick it up. Once again I felt the bitter taste of humiliation, let alone I lost my seat in the bus.

Wednesday, 11th February 1976

As about the problem "Vlassis", it still exists and it is getting worse: The psychopath has taken great care of making me famous in the underworld of the city. More often than not, I hear my name being cried out by hoodlums I have never seen before. I have marked out four brothers, who often go around together with Vlassis: Each one of them is taller than the other, but none of them is taller than me; they all have the same nasty, angular, crimson face of a lunatic and whenever they see me they start calling me names: "Yvooooonne! You cameeeeel! You giraaaaaffe!"

I really don't know what's going on around me; as I grow up, the world is becoming more and more insupportable, entirely unsuitable for me. I can hardly bear it any longer, as it's getting too difficult for me to adapt myself to its demands. I often wish I were someone else, someone "clever", who can cope with life on this planet...

Monday, 1st March 1976

Today my class went on a day trip to Nafplio: I would have had a nice time if I had had company and if the boys sitting behind me hadn't been bothering me all the time. I was greatly surprised when I realized that they were those rogues who usually deride me on the road. But how indeed? They are in a higher class!

Anyway, to my bad luck they were sitting right behind me, constantly hitting my seat and making fun of me with aggressive cries and giggles. I just kept a stiff upper lip and didn't utter a word. There was nothing else to do. I couldn't even change seat, since the coach was chock-full.

Sunday, 14th March 1976

This morning I woke up in a very bad mood. I don't feel like playing on the road with my friends, or doing anything else; maybe because last night I accidentally eavesdropped a certain conversation between my father and his brother, uncle Andrew:

"What are you saying now about Yvonne? Alice is as sharp as a needle, Alice is a fly customer!" said my uncle, full of admiration for my sister.

"Let me tell you," replied dad. "Alice is cleverer than Yvonne, but Yvonne is a better pupil!"

"Big deal! Alice is better at everything else!"

I felt very sorry and started crying silently in my bed. It was almost midnight and everybody thought I was asleep.

Tuesday, 4th May 1976

As years go by, it gets more and more obvious that Alice is stealing the show from me. According to relatives and friends, she is always the "astute", the "lively", the "mincing hussy", while I am the "quiet", the "gawky", the "slowcoach". The truth is that I am getting taller and thinner: I am 1.67 m tall now, I weigh about 43 kilos and my body still remains entirely childlike.

Once again, this afternoon I heard compliments such as "You, beanpole!" and "Hey you! Lanky camel!" from strangers on the road. Moreover, I understand that pretty soon I will have to give up childhood and street games once for all. I neither want this to happen, nor become a "woman".

As about Jasmine, she has already turned four. She is still very beautiful, still quadriplegic. She can neither stand, nor sit, nor talk. She can't even say "mum". However, I don't mind spending hours with her in my lap, every time my parents need to be away from home -that is every day. I like rocking her on my knees, while listening to music for hours. If I leave her on her bed even for five minutes, she bursts into crying. I also accompany my mother to the center for spastic children, where we take Jasmine for kinesitherapy, although it has become obvious that these sessions bring no result at all.

In the evening I asked dad to help me with a maths problem. In the end, he told me bitterly: "I have a problem too: Jasmine has been ill ever since she was born; I have spent more than a million drachmas for her, but she has shown no improvement so far. When will Jasmine be cured?"

Wednesday, 5th May 1976

Something strange happened today at school, during the music lesson: The whole class was singing a song from our book, when suddenly I saw Mr Mantas, our fastidious music master, running towards me.

"Are you singing?" he asked the girl sitting in front of me, then the one next to her. They both answered affirmatively.

Finally, he asked me: "How about you? Are you singing?"

"Yes, I do", I replied.

He glared at me and ordered "Don't sing!", leaving me dumbfounded. "I heard a dissonance somewhere here", he explained quickly and returned to his seat at once.

So, I will never sing with the others in class again. Maybe the master was right about the dissonance, the truth is that I have never been sweet-voiced. Yet, I wonder: There are sixty pupils in my class; only I was so out of tune, that the master had to prohibit me from singing? And he noticed that now, after so many months? What did he fear anyway? That I might spoil the serious concert?

Monday, 12th May 1976

During the music lesson, Mr Mantas called some pupils on the blackboard and told them to do a singing exercise and beat time with their hand as well. He also called Ivy, the star of our class, who admittedly performed very well. Then, it was my turn. I did my best and I sang the piece as melodiously as I could, without making the slightest mistake in the notes or the tempo. When I finished, I heard the master's verdict: "Alright; but I asked you to sing the notes, not recite them!"

I stayed speechless and motionless for about five minutes. But why? I have the impression that I did fine! I wondered. In the end, I repeated the exercise hesitantly, with a trembling voice. "Sit now", said Mr Mantas finally, making a sour face.

Friday, 25th June 1976

I finished the first class with a grade of 16, which is mediocre, not so auspicious for my future. All year long I have been jealous of Ivy, who kept the attendance register and always got a 19 or a 20 in all subjects. During the whole school year, she never took a lower mark, not even an 18, in some minor test.

Strange, though: Indeed she always excelled in all tests and examinations, but she never raised her hand in class and she was seldom asked to say the lesson. And another thing: Ivy kept the attendance register because she had got into gymnasium with a grade of 17.5. However, there were two other pupils who had managed to take an 18. Nevertheless, Ivy was the one who was chosen to take the attendance register...

### Chapter 9: Class B Gymnasium

Friday, 1st October 1976

Now that I am in the second class of gymnasium, my life seems to be taking an unexpected turn for the better. I can say I have become almost popular, since I talk with many children at school; my best friend is Mary Tsamis, a lively short girl who often bothers the teachers with her mischief. Strangely enough, the two of us are well-matched and we have fun together.

Moreover, I have also been admitted to the school choir! I, who last year wasn't allowed even to sing in class! I can hardly explain this, but I must say there is no music master at school this year. It's the physical education master who has undertaken the choir.

This morning we had history with an extremely strict mistress; she is the terror of the school because she throws out of the class any pupil who dares even whisper a word to a classmate during her lesson. She bombarded us with lots of questions from the book of the previous class. I was the only one who raised her hand and answered them all.

"How do you know all this information about history?" a girl asked me later, during the break.

"I remember stuff from last year," I replied.

"I don't remember a thing from last year," she said smiling.

Saturday, 20th November 1976

Yesterday, as I woke up in the middle of the night and opened my eyes, I saw aunt Penelope facing me! She was standing beside my bookcase, with her hands on my schoolbag and she was glaring at me! She was wearing a long white nightgown; in fact she was all white, like an apparition! I sat up in bed and kept observing her in wonder for some seconds. Then I tried to get up and ask her what she was doing in my room at this hour, but she vanished into thin air. What was that, really? Do ghosts really exist, even ghosts of living persons? I'm sure that I saw this, it was not a dream, for I was not sleeping at the time...

Monday, 22nd November 1976

I feel very confident about my school performance this year, since I have done very well both in written tests and oral examinations. I'm such a good pupil, that some of my classmates smile to me in admiration and call me "a wiz-kid". However, due to certain coincidences (we were not given marks in most subjects), I got the first trimester report with an average grade of 12.2. I hope to have better results in the second trimester.

As about Jasmine, she is almost five years old and her health hasn't improved at all. "I will die soon if we go on like this, but that's the least; unless we find a reasonable solution to the problem, in the end we shall all perish", says my mother again and again, completely disappointed.

Eventually, my parents have decided there is no other solution but send Jasmine to a special asylum on the island of Leros. Taking into account that this asylum is the only one in the country that receives so helpless cases of disabled persons, we had to pull some strings in order to hurry things on. Otherwise, we would have to wait for ten years or so, and the consequences for my mother and the rest of us would be unpredictable.

Anyway, this is our last night together. Alice and I are sitting in the living room and we are recording Jasmine's favourite songs in two cassettes; she will take them, as well as an old tape recorder, to Leros. She is leaving home early next morning.

Saturday, 27th November 1976

Mum has just returned home, together with my godmother who accompanied her in that sad trip to Leros. Things proved to be really nasty there: My mother was shocked and started screaming as soon as she found out the wretched living conditions of the inmates in that asylum. Actually, it actually occurred to her to bring back the infant, but she finally got aware that this was not an option. Therefore, she decided to leave our little sister there but arranged for Jasmine to have her own room, away from the other inmates, most of whom suffer from indescribable physical and mental disabilities. We won't forget her, of course. We intend to visit her as often as possible and make sure that she is properly taken care of.

... Ten days later we shall be informed by phone that Jasmine died of intestinal disorders. Only my mother and father will attend the funeral; Alice and I will stay at home, together with old aunt Diamanta. As we shall be informed after our parents' return, Jasmine was buried with her eyes open. No matter how hard the nurses tried, they didn't manage to close them.

Wednesday, 26th January 1977

As times goes by, my class proves to be the most obstreperous in the school. Our reputation reached even the Ministry of Education, when a smart aleck threw two pieces of chalk at the French mistress. Our religion master, Mr Lazopoulos, gets into big trouble any time he gives us a lesson. All the children make fun of him because he is obsessed with religion and especially with St Nicolas. He always tells us to abstain from parties, popular songs, magazines, books etc because "these things are satanic!" He also says that all boys should become monks or priests and all girls nuns or nurses. At the end of each lesson, he wants us to copy a teaching and an adage from the Holy Bible and then he makes us sing a hymn of his inspiration to St Nicolas. The hubbub from the jarring notes and the rattles heard during that hymn, is difficult to describe. On the other hand, he never hesitates to whack the children really bad when they get on his nerves too much.

This morning Mr Lazopoulos gave us back the tests we had written a week before. Everything is perfect in my paper, there are no corrections, yet he has given me a mere 14 with two question marks. I wonder, what did I forget to write? "The teaching and the adage of the lesson," he told me when I asked him. But he hadn't asked for those in the test...

Friday, 25th February 1977

Since the beginning of this month, I have marked out a boy in my class: His name is George Franzis, and I am in love with him. He is tall and slender, he has big brown eyes with long eyelashes, voluminous brown hair and a nice smile. He is very handsome. He usually wears clothes that are all in tints of the same colour: one day he is dressed in green, next day in crimson, then in brown, and so on. He is goodhearted, humorous and friendly to everybody, but I think he is a little selfish too. He is also very clever, the best boy pupil in the class. He has got a sister, whose name is Rosita and she is one year older than us. She is an impressive blonde with blue eyes and a strong personality. Sometimes, during the breaks, I watch her as she walks around in the schoolyard together with a friend of hers, and she never stops talking.

Every day I befuddle my mother with George's achievements. This morning we were given our reports for the second trimester and mum came to the school in order to receive mine. I sought to show George to her (being careful so that nobody else got wind of that, of course) as he walked past us, this time dressed in white.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" I asked mum and waited for her affirmation.

Yet, she guffawed and said: "Who, him? But he is just a baby!"

"Isn't he handsome?" I insisted.

"He is fine, but he is only a kid! Almost a baby! What is there about him, to fall in love with?"

I was really bewildered at mum's reaction: George is 13 years old, just like I am, but he is very tall and good-looking. He certainly isn't "a kid". Anyway, what was mum expecting me to show her? Some thirty-year-old man?

From now on, any time I speak to mum about George, she will always respond: "Big deal! He is only a child! Next year you will have forgotten all about him!"

Thursday, 12th May 1977

It was a nice day today at school. The literature mistress asked us a question and I was the only one who knew the answer. In the third hour we had a French test and I did very well; I expect to be given an 18. When the bell rang, Franzis approached and asked me about the subjects of the test. He believed he had written perfectly, but I showed him that he had made a mistake. He started swearing at himself. He was funny.

We finished school one hour earlier, because the anthropology mistress was absent. All pupils had already left, except me, Mary, George and Mark. George kept calling me and Mary "traitors". We were still laughing, when suddenly the two boys had a fight. Mark, who is rather corpulent, was chasing George all over the classroom, with the wastepaper basket in hand. He finally managed to corner him, George raised his hands in surrender, but Mark made him wear the basket like a hat. We all laughed our heads off.

Saturday, 14th May 1977

Today we didn't have any lessons, because the masters had a meeting. Instead, we found a ball and played "the apples" in class. As soon as I threw the ball once, it landed on a boy's face and he started crying. In the meanwhile, the chemistry mistress was coming and we all fled after we had hidden the ball. As soon as we got out, in the schoolyard, the head master called me and asked me to dump about a dozen of cardboard boxes in a barrel. When my classmates saw me, they shouted: "Presents for Yvonne!"

While I was waiting at the bus-stop after school, George was standing a little farther, in the company of his friends. Soon, three girls were seen walking at the opposite side of the road. Each of them was holding an ice cream. George started kidding them: "Hey, you three, I want some candy too!". The girls didn't pay any attention but he insisted: "Hey, I'm talking to you three! I want some candy!". The three of them kept on walking down the street unruffled, while we were laughing. "Hey, you! I mean you three! Haven't you counted yourselves yet?" asked George humourously.

Sunday, 15th May 1977

This morning we had an unexpected visit from uncle Sebastian, my father's second cousin, whom I had never seen before. He arrived with his wife and his three sons, who are 14, 10 and 4 years old. My sister and I played with them cheerfully for many hours, turning the whole house upside down. We all had a whale of a time.

I think it's the first time in my life that I have played so freely, without worrying that somebody might mock or trick me! I can't explain why, but I could really be myself with these boys. In the afternoon, we went swimming in the beach of Glyfada, and then we ate fish and calamari at a seaside taverna. I felt very sorry when they left, late in the evening.

Monday, 16th May 1977

Today the literature mistress was absent, so we had no lesson for two hours. The children spent their time playing SOS on the blackboard. I showed them how many SOSes there were. Everybody said I am a live wire (good for me). Then I played SOS with Louise Hoidas, at her desk. We should have played on the blackboard, because I beat her by 8-1.

The last lesson of the day was physical education. After we had finished, there were only some boys, Mary and I in the classroom. George wanted to take off his tracksuit and asked us girls to leave. Yet, we weren't in a hurry to do so. "I'm taking it off!" George threatened. Finally we left, but when we got downstairs Mary remembered that she had left her jacket in the classroom. I was more than willing to fetch it. Franzis had not taken off his clothes yet. I just took the jacket and got away. "Yvonne is a good girl, she is leaving!" said George with a sweet smile.

Tuesday, 17th May 1977

Early this morning we set off on a school day trip to Costa. Our coach was an old flivver. At some traffic lights the driver applied the brakes too late and we crashed into another car. It was a funny accident. We all got off and pushed the other car forward. In the meantime, the oil reservoir of our coach was broken and the black liquid was spilt on the asphalted road. We waited there for about an hour, until they sent us another coach and another driver. Due to the unexpected delay, we finally went to Loutraki instead of Costa.

All pupils were left loose in a wood. Mary and I joined George's party. I was feeling on top of the world but I was so fluttered that I couldn't utter a word. All at once, Mary started throwing grits at George. He tried to reciprocate but Mary kept hiding behind me, so George hit me instead of her and then he said "sorry, sorry".

A little later we discovered an old restaurant that served nothing but beer. George drank a whole bottle of beer by himself and then he was complaining that his head was spinning. Later on, we all gathered together and took lots of photographs.

On the way back to school, Franzis came and sat next to me. I don't know why, but during the whole journey we didn't exchange a word. Someone joked that he and I are in love and that we shall get married one day. George grimaced in embarrassment and I pretended I hadn't listened.

In the rear of the coach, there were about ten children smoking. Suddenly, one of the masters went to them but instead of punishing them, he asked for a cigarette. One of the girls had a chest pain, probably because of the too many cigarettes she had smoked.

When we arrived at school, late in the evening, George was one of the first pupils who got into the classroom. As soon as he saw me coming, he raised his hands and cried out: "Hello, Yvonne!". I greeted him back, with a cheerful smile. Maybe he loves me too...

Friday, 20th May 1977

This is my luckiest day ever: As soon as I entered the classroom I saw that, for some strange reason, the rows of desks in my class are now five instead of four that were till yesterday. I found it a little strange because in all classes, in all schools, there are always four rows of desks, never five. Yet, the most surprising thing is that Franzis happens to be sitting right next to me now! We are very close, separated only by a 30cm-wide aisle! He smiled to me, I smiled back. He asked me about my mark in ancient Greek. He smiled again. He got the same mark too.

I had to change desk for the anthropology test and a classmate asked me if I would help him. When I said yes, he started chasing my hand so as to kiss it. Finally, we didn't have that test because:

a) The mistress was in a bad mood,

b) The boy she asked to fetch the papers came back too late, c) She got so angry, that she dismissed all the boys from the class. Only George asked to stay.

Then the mistress made a speech on how useless men are, until the bell rang and we all got away.

Monday, 23rd May 1977

We had a test in ancient Greek the other day, and this morning we were given our corrected papers back. My George was given an imperial 06. I'll never forget the wry face he made as soon as he saw it. The next lesson was history, and I was the only one who raised her hand and answered the mistress's questions. "You are a secret genius!" George told me smiling.

This evening, my sweet sister got on my nerves because she wanted me to give her exactly half of the photos of artists I have clipped out of magazines. She wanted them here and now, she grumbled and grumbled, until I flew off the handle and gave her a clout. She turned on the waterworks at once, mum ran to see what was wrong and Alice moaned that I hit her: "...and I have a terrible headache now!" -the usual performance. Mum glared at me, she ordered me to give half of my photos to Alice, I refused, and my sister resorted to her strongest argument: "If you don't beat her up, I will vomit!" and she started the act right away.

As expected, mum got furious: "You, big one, give those photos to the kid!" she groaned, while Alice was whining with crocodile tears: "Aaaaaah, my head!". Then mum pounced on me, shouting: "What did you do to the poor kid, she's only half your age, you big one, you gawk!"

In order to avoid repetition of the usual incident, just like the previous time when mum pushed me down on the floor and started kicking and beating me, I stood up immediately and ran away from home. I was absent from home for a couple of hours, and when I came back mum didn't dare utter a word -no kidding! With the above strategy, I managed not to get beaten up almost every day, at the age of fourteen...

Wednesday, 25th May 1977

I was given a 16 in the physics test of Monday, although I had written perfectly and expected a 19-20. Why, indeed? Anyway, during the lesson the mistress called me and five other pupils for an oral examination on the blackboard. That mischief of Jason was standing before me. As soon as his turn came, he suddenly pushed me in front of him and I found myself in his place. The whole class laughed. Yet, the mistress got wind of his little trick, so it didn't wash. I did very well in the oral examination and got an 18. As I was returning to my desk, Franzis smiled to me tenderly. In the fourth hour we had to write an essay with a free subject. I chose to write about "My best friend". George wrote about "Mother". I think his essays are silly.

On my way home by bus, the conductor had run out of 50-cent coins, so all pupils had to pay 4 drachmas for the ticket, instead of the usual 3.50. My George kept joking all the way, making happy everyone in the bus. Yet, when his turn came, he found out that he had only three drachmas in his pocket. "Your trick is too old!" the conductor told him sharply. George flinched as if he were scared. Then he received his ticket with trembling hands, while the other passengers were laughing.

"I'll get off at the next busstop and go home to get those 50 cents!" Franzis went on.

"Stop playing jokes on me!" said the conductor annoyed.

"Alright, I stop!"

Thursday, 9th June 1977

Today is the first day of the final examinations, starting with Greek literature. We had to write an essay with the subject "A chapel on top of the hill". We also had to analyze the Olympic Hymn. I had left my book at home accidentally, and the boy sitting in front of me was kind enough to lend me his for a while. So, I could study the hymn and write its main idea on a page for him to copy. Moreover, he kept nagging me to help him with the essay. Another boy tried to cheat in the exam, but he was caught red handed by the invigilator. Someone joked: "Miss, this is not a crib-sheet, this is a love-letter!". Everybody burst out laughing. Another genius had opened his book down on the floor and kept reading from it. He managed well, without being caught.

Anyway, this is the worst day of my life, since the school year is actually over. Unfortunately, George Franzis is writing in the next classroom. This means that we have been separated, and I don't like this at all. Yet, I like to think that our summer separation will only be temporary...

Friday, 17th June 1977

We had the history exam today. As I was handing out the sheets of paper, someone smiled to me and said: "You are giving me the sheet? I will get a 20!". This time I almost got disqualified because I let the boy behind me copy from my paper and the invigilator got wind of it. Anyway, I'm pleased with what I have written.

I was just leaving when I noticed about twenty sheets of paper which had fallen on the floor, at the threshold of the next classroom. The examination was over, the room was empty and the master had left without realizing that some papers had slipped off his hands. I started browsing among them anxiously, until I discovered that one of them was George's! I was tempted to run off with it and keep it as a memento, without telling anyone. However, I thought about it again, I saw it wasn't a right thing to do and I called a mistress who was passing by at that moment.

Saturday, 25th June 1977

This morning we had our last examination, on housekeeping. The subjects were a piece of cake. I expect to be given a 19-20. When I finished and got out in the schoolyard, George came near and talked to me -I hope not for the last time ever. He said that he was going to have the geography exam later because he was absent on Wednesday, when the rest of us took that exam.

After school, Mary Tsamis invited me to her house in Voula. It proved to be a nice villa with a tiled roof and a big garden. Her mother was not at home and her father had prepared chicken soup for lunch. Tomorrow, Mary and her parents are leaving for the island of Salamis, where they have a cottage. I will phone them as soon as the results of the exams come out.

Wednesday, 30th June 1977

My father arrived home this morning, after many months on a small merchant ship called "Tiny Luck". We were astounded to hear that three hours before he left the ship, fire broke out; unless he had been awake, they would have all been burnt to death. He has brought us a TV set, a tape recorder and other things from abroad. Yet, due to the slow customs clearance, the items haven't arrived in time and dad has been swearing all day.

In the afternoon, daddy took me and Gregory to the ship. We explored it from stem to stern and then we stayed in the captain's cabin, where we read books and ate roasted gourd-seeds. We had a nice time until it got dark and we returned home.

Thursday, 1st July 1977

The school results have just come out: I have passed the class with an average grade of 17 -better than last year. Especially the exams marks are very good, almost 18 in average. Mr Christopher, a decent veteran air force officer who lives with his wife right across the street, gave me 200 drachmas as a gift. He was very happy about my success. Anybody who hears about my good marks, hardly believes it. Why, really? The only sad mishap is that my friend Mary didn't manage to move up. One thing is certain: I'm never going to forget this wonderful school year...

Thursday, 7th July 1977

This afternoon my mother took me to an orthopedist in Athens. We wanted to have my back examined, because it doesn't seem to be completely straight recently. The doctor, a fat disagreeable man, told me to get undressed as soon as he saw me. I left only my underwear on, and after a quick examination he diagnosed: "cyphosis, lordosis, and scoliosis of 6 degrees! Also, thorax stenosis! Can't you see what a narrow chest she has?". As about the prescribed treatment, it is a nasty orthopedic belt that will cover my whole body from shoulders to pelvis! I will have to wear it until I am eighteen, said the doctor. Then he gave us the address of his brother's shop, where such belts are made.

As soon as we got out of the surgery, I burst into crying. "Don't cry like this, my girl, such things happen to lots of people," said an unknown woman who saw me and was interested. Lots of people? Really? How many people wear such an orthopedic belt? I wondered and kept on weeping all the way to the bus-stop.

Saturday, 23rd July 1977

Around noon my mother, my sister and I paid a visit to Mrs Lucy, a young neighbour who lives next door. After a while we started talking about ghosts, and Lucy told us that she knows how to summon spirits! We were very surprised when she fetched a Holy Bible at once. Amongst its pages there was a pencil sticking out and it was tied to the book with a string.

Lucy explained that spiritualism is dangerous because spirits absorb energy from those who summon them, rendering them prone to accidents and misfortunes. Then she told us about her sister-in-law, who had called a spirit the other day and three days later she was killed in a car crash together with her little daughter. "But you are in no danger, because I am the one who will summon the spirit; nor is it anything satanic, since we are using the Holy Bible," she reassured us and started saying The Lord's Prayer. She kept her index fingers stuck to the pencil, which was fixed vertically in between; both her palms were facing the floor and the book was hanging under her two hands.

As soon as Lucy finished the prayer, she called the spirit of my grandmother, Alice, who died six years ago. It was expected to answer our questions either with a "yes" (turning the Holy Bible to the right) or with a "no" (turning the Holy Bible to the left).

"Grandma Alice, do you love Marietta?" asked Lucy about my mother. "Yes", answered the spirit.

Then, Lucy asked the same about my sister and me, and the spirit answered gave positive answers again.

"Grandma, do you love me?" ... "No".

"She doesn't love me!" said the neighbour, rather worried.

"Will Yvonne finish the third class of gymnasium with a high grade?" my mum wanted to know.

The spirit answered "yes" very quickly.

"Will Yvonne get higher education?"

The book turned to the right, but very slowly.

"Look, how hard it is for her to say yes," commented Lucy.

At that moment, I thought of getting an answer to a tantalizing query I've had ever since I was an infant; yet, I didn't wish to express it aloud, but only mentally. After the spiritualist had assured me that this could be done, I concentrated and made the following question:

Grandma, tell me, am I clever?

The book didn't move at all.

I repeated the mental question.

Once again, the book stayed motionless.

"She didn't like the question", said the neighbour.

Then, my sister took the Holy Bible in her hands; some more questions were made and the book kept turning right or left, just like before. Therefore, it was not Lucy who was doing that somehow, as I had initially suspected.

"Are you tired, grandma?" asked Lucy then, and she got a positive answer.

"She has to go", said the spiritualist impatiently.

She took the book in her hands again, she said The Lord's Prayer once more and then she asked the spirit to leave.

"Grandma Alice, have you left?" asked Lucy finally.

The book turned to the left.

"She is still here! But she must leave!" she exclaimed anxious.

Lucy repeated the prayer and when she asked again, the book turned to the right.

"If grandma is gone, how did the book turn?" I wondered.

"That was the last turn, as the spirit was leaving" explained Lucy.

Sunday, 7th August 1977

During the summer, Mary and I have become better friends. She often invites me to her house, where I stay for two or three days; we play board games, volleyball or rackets in the street, we go on long walks to the park, or we watch nice films in the local cinema. Sometimes we meet Kate, a peer neighbour. She is a nice girl, with curly red hair and a suntanned skin. She has known Mary ever since they both went to primary school.

This afternoon I happened to see Mary's school report of the second trimester. It had been left under an ashtray in the living room. I couldn't resist the temptation, so I took it in my hands and when I looked at it, I could hardly believe my eyes: She had excellent marks, over 17, in all subjects! Yet, Mary has always been a mediocre pupil, usually getting a 13-14 on average! Moreover, in the end she didn't manage to move up and she has to repeat the second class! I looked again carefully, trying to make out if her marks had been "corrected" (for example, a 13 can easily become an 18); but no, that was not the case. Then I imagined that her parents had bought a report sheet from somewhere and filled it in with the desired marks, in order to show it off to relatives and friends. And the seal of the school? How had it been stamped? Isn't this a mystery...

Friday, 19th August 1977

I have been in Mary's cottage in Salamis for a week now. We are having a great time together, going on long walks, swimming, or playing board games. Every day we meet Kate, whose cottage happens to be nearby, and we have lots of fun. I have impressed everybody with my overall knowledge, as well as with my ability in doing crosswords. My self-confidence grows day by day, as I feel that the others are fond of me. This is one of the happiest summers in my life, yet I am looking forward to the new school year, so that I meet my George again...

Chapter 10: Descent

### Class C Gymnasium

Monday, 5th September 1977

Full of joy and optimism, my mother and I went to the school this morning so as to enroll me in the third class of gymnasium. However, mum had the brilliant idea of giving our true address (13, Nereid st.), instead of the fictitious one (24, Tyrtaios st.) we had given the previous two years. As a result, I was not admitted at the high school of Glyfada because Nereid street is out of its territory. We were told I should go to the gymnasium of Argyroupolis, miles from nowhere, at the foot of Mount Hymettus. Willy-nilly we took a taxi and went there, but I wasn't admitted to that school either; according to the masters, our address is in the territory of the high school of St Tryfon – which is the most reasonable thing.

We got away at the double and ended up at the above school, which is situated near the homonymous church. It looked rather gloomy, and it was full of pupils and parents who were trying to get stowed in its poky rooms. I didn't want at all to enroll in it, as it was ugly and in a bad state of repair; besides, it had a bad reputation. Last but not least, I was sure that George Franzis would never come here.

I was really relieved when I heard that neither in that school could I be admitted! According to the pudgy physical education mistress, who was responsible for the enrollments, I was supposed to attend the high school of Argyroupolis. We explained that we had just come from there but she wouldn't listen. So, we took another taxi and went back to Argyroupolis. To no avail, of course.

Finally, I was admitted in the gymnasium of St Tryfon, after my mother had begged a lot. I could feel my heart sinking, as the image of George was already fading in my conscience. When we took the way back home, we were both exhausted and sad...

Wednesday, 21st September 1977

This is my first day in the third class. I looked everywhere, hoping to see any old classmates from the unforgettable B4 of last year, I hoped to find some, but I only met the two Christides sisters, who were very friendly to me. Only they and I have ended up here.

This means I'm never going to see all those dear persons again, most of all my George! I have lost him for ever. The more I realize it, the more I get depressed. Let alone that all the boys here are complete nonentities in comparison with George. All I can have from him now, is memories...

Monday, 10th October 1977

I don't think I will manage to participate in the parade of the 28th October this year. For some strange reason, the nasty physical education mistress hates me and she just refuses to include me in the file.

"Won't Yvonne come to the parade?" a girl wondered.

"What is Yvonne good for?" answered the mistress ironically.

It's not that I'm looking forward to taking part in the stupid parade. However, if I don't participate, I will get a very bad mark in physical education, which will lower the average grade of the school report. Therefore, I had better inform my mother about this.

Tuesday, 18th October 1977

After my mother's complaints yesterday, the physical education mistress finally had to include me in the file, in the very first row because of my height. The other pupils have been looking at me askance ever since. In fact, the whole school has been talking about me, calling me a "mollycoddle". During the rehearsals for the parade, my schoolmates never stop admonishing me: "Move your arms higher!" ... "Make bigger steps!" ... "Go slower!" etc.

This morning they really got on my nerves, so I turned back and told Joanna, who was the lead singer of the serenade: "Why, are you jealous that I am in the first row?" They all shut up at the moment, but I could feel they were already plotting the reprisals.

... On the day of the parade, the whole school will gather along the coastal road of Glyfada, and wait for our turn to march before the town dignitaries. As soon as Nelly Christides saw me, she groaned sarcastically: "So, you are here! Couldn't you have broken your leg and not have come?". I didn't utter a word; I was only speechless at such malice from a person I considered a friend.

Thursday, 3rd November 1977

As soon as the bus to school came and the door opened before me, I came face to face with an unknown pupil, who was looking at me mockingly. All at once he saluted me like a soldier and shouted: "Heil Hitler!". The whole bus shook with laughter. I got on as if nothing had happened, totally ignoring the derisive giggles around me. Anyway, the trump was not alone, he was in a big gang. Trumps never go about alone. If I had reacted anyhow, things would have become even worse for me...

Friday, 18th November 1977

Frankly, I just can't understand what is happening to me: Although I have found myself in a foreign environment, away from the old good classmates and away from George, for the last two months I have been doing my best to show positivity and adaptability, so as to fit in my new school. I am one of the best pupils, and I also push myself to approach and talk to some children during the breaks. I try really hard to get over my innate inclination to solitude and shyness, which had abated last year; yet, now it has grown again because of the extreme hostility I have to confront every day.

Despite my endeavors to fit in, the result seems to be poor if not negative. I really don't know why, but I have become the laughing-stock of the whole school. For the time being, the only thing I can do is show indifference.

The only girls who talk to me are the two Christides sisters, with whom I return home every day after school. This afternoon they advised me to be more extrovert, cheerful and friendly towards the other children: "They think you are selfish and haughty. That's why some spread bad rumours about you, saying that you are uppish, foolish and obsessed with religion. Unless you change your attitude, they will never stop deriding you", concluded Stella, while Nelly was smiling enigmatically.

Saturday, 26th November 1977

Every day I have to wear this horrible orthopedic belt, which makes my breathing hard and gives my body an unnaturally straight posture; let alone it doesn't really hide my cyphosis, since it doesn't prevent my shoulders from drooping. Every morning, when I put it on, I feel like throwing up. Moreover, this belt has worsened my aerophagia, which first appeared last year. When I get sick with it, I can hardly breath, I feel like choking, and it doesn't go away unless I lie in bed.

I have some other health problems too: Since last month I have been suffering from a strange eye illness that makes my eyes blink continuously and uncontrollably. In addition, a stammer I've had since I was a child, has deteriorated remarkably. Also, my hair has become too greasy, wild and scanty; "diffused alopecia", diagnosed the doctor.

This morning, as soon as the bell rang for the third break, a classmate approached me. It was Peter, a well known trump and bully, together with four of his friends. He smiled ironically and sought to deride my blinking and stutter: "Do... do... do you know that... that... that... you are ve... ve... very beautiful?" There followed a torrent of giggles and jeers.

Monday, 5th December 1977

It has become a real torture for me to stand anywhere within the school premises. For some mysterious reason, I am a target for about 200 persons! No matter where I am at school, I always hear mocking giggles, malevolent hints like "a nasty giraffe" or "a stupid religious hen", jeers, vomit-like exclamations, ostentatious spits. It seems there is always something about me they don't like: my oily hair, my excessive height (1,77 m), my thin and still undeveloped body (45 kilos), the way I walk, the way I talk. When I answer back to the jeers, they call me "vixen". When I ignore them, they call me "stupid".

After the second break today, as soon as I got into the classroom, Dimitri Haribdis hastened towards me and got on my way, holding a broomstick in his hand (where did he find that?). "You ain't passing, you tart!" he said, chuckling maliciously. I don't know what that word means exactly, but it didn't sound good. Anyway, I wanted to go to my desk, so I pushed the broomstick away with all my strength. "You, tart!" he roared again and sought to stop me with his plump body. I pushed him aside and made for my desk. "You can't take on girls!" said someone, and the rest of the pupils laughed.

Wednesday, 7th December 1977

During the sixth hour, while we were having a lesson of religion, those rascals of my classmates managed to get on my nerves again: I was sitting alone at the last desk, as usual, when I realized that everybody was looking my way, guffawing irrepressibly. I blushed of embarrassment, unable to imagine why. After half an hour of giggles and sly looks, Helen, who's sitting in front me, decided to turn back and enlighten me:

"Your legs..." she whispered to me.

"What?"

"Close them!"

I obeyed at once and the whole class burst into wild laughter. The master didn't utter a word and waited patiently for the uproar to settle.

However, now that I am thinking about it more calmly, I wonder: I sit at the last desk, on the right side of the room; beside and in front of me there are rows and rows of seated pupils. So, how is it possible that somebody actually saw "something" down there, taking into account that my pinafore is of midi length?

Saturday, 10th December 1977

I never expected that to happen, but it happened this afternoon: My mother discovered my secret diary, a big red notebook, where I write down my everyday experiences (constantly being derided by the whole school), how I feel (sorrow, disappointment, self-pity), and what I can do about it (whatever I do is never enough). This diary is my only ally in life, since I don't dare talk to anybody about my problems in this wretched school. Every time I try to say something to mum, her only advice is "Don't be sad and don't pay any attention to them. You must always show good manners".

Anyway, as soon as she read my diary, she got out of control: "Come here, you, nitwit! What inanities have you written here? ''Dear red notebook, I am alone in the world, everybody hates me, you are my only friend''! What's this? Are you sick or something? Let me catch you at such nonsense again!"

Then, she tore my notebook to bits, she pushed me on the bed and started smacking and pinching me all over, shouting in a shrill voice: "Why are you complaining about your life, you ungrateful bitch? When I was at your age, I worked all day and gave all my money to my parents! I wasn't left a drachma! Are you listening to me, you fool? Non even one drachma!" – and she kept on hitting and pinching me, while I was begging her to stop. I spent the rest of the day crying and wondering why she hates me so much.

Monday, 19th December 1977

I was in a hurry to leave for the English tutorial school but the belt of my skirt was nowhere to find. I told my mother, she managed to find it after a lot of search, and brought it to me mumbling angrily "dead loss, you dead loss". Then she tried to help me put it on but she tightened it around my waist so furiously, that I could no longer breathe. I felt very dizzy, I lay in bed and finally missed the English lesson. "Have I really done so much harm to you?" whined mum, putting on her usual martyred look.

Monday, 23rd January 1978

This is the first day in our new school, which is situated at the site "Little Bridge", right opposite to the mountain. The building is very nice, painted in tints of beige and yellow, but the desks were dusty. My classroom is on the first floor. All pupils were dismissed one hour too soon this evening, because a light bulb caught fire and we were told to go away.

I am optimistic about this change. I feel that things will get better for me from now on. My alopecia has been cured and the blinking is gone. Even my terrible colds are not so terrible any more, thanks to some new antihistamines. This winter I got sick only three times and each cold lasted five or six days; not eight months non-stop, like it did until last year.

Moreover, I think I'm falling in love again: This time it's with Alex Tellos, the best pupil in the class. He is in the bad habit of sucking up to the masters all day, but he is very clever and handsome.

Tuesday, 21st February 1978

This morning we were given the algebra tests back. I got an 18. There were no mistakes on my paper. The only thing marked in red was the phrase "very good" written in the end. By the way, why an 18 and not a 20?

I think I have got two new problems: During the last break I noticed that two classmates, who hadn't given me a reason to think about them so far, were looking at me askance, gossiping and giggling continuously. I'll see what I'll do with them.

Saturday, 25th February 1978

This is the happiest Saturday of my life: I was the class monitor and Alex, my darling, lied to me that he had been given permission to stay in during the second break. Then, he looked at me tenderly and asked me to show him the solution to a maths problem. In the next break he told me the same lie. This time he wanted me to help him with a geometry exercise. I have the impression he loves me.

In the afternoon I told mum all about Alex and his growing interest in me, and she took the occasion to give me the usual lecture -the same ever since I was an infant:

"You must be careful with men, or some shrewd guy will fool you and then dump you like a squeezed lemon! Always remember that good girls don't go out on dates. You must never go to a cafeteria with a man. If you do, he will certainly put drugs in your drink and then he will do to you whatever he wants!"

"Really?" I wondered. "All boys do that?"

"Yes, they all do that!"

"You mean, all these young guys who go to cafeterias with their girlfriend, put drugs in her drink? All of them? At the same time?"

"Yes, this is exactly what they do, all of them! That's why you should never go out with a man! A woman must be clever, not be fooled by trumps. So, listen to what I'm saying: When you grow up and get into university, you will meet some handsome undergraduate, but you won't go on a date with him. You will only sit with him on a bench once or twice, just for some minutes. Then you will explain to him that you are a decent girl with moral principles and that you can't be knocking about with someone who's not your husband -and risk being seen by a neighbour! So, you will tell him to come and ask your father for your hand! If he is worthy, he will understand and he will marry you as soon as possible. If he is not, let him go!", concluded mum, with an air of expertise. I guess she could be right, yet I wonder: Why doesn't she ever say these things to my sister?

Saturday, 11th March 1978

This morning we had no lessons at school; instead we had a fancy dress party, on the occasion of the carnival season. Panos and Peter came dressed up as women and Joanna as a beggar. They went to the headmistress's office and she kissed them. All pupils were dismissed at 11:00 o' clock. I left with Virna, with whom we sit together at the same desk, and another friend of hers, whose name is Kate. As we were walking down the road talking and laughing, suddenly Kate confided in us that Alex is in love with her and that he has told her so! Good heavens!

In the afternoon I paid a visit to my good friend, Mary. We listened to some records and talked about the new cinema films. Later on, we went to a party thrown by a friend of hers. It proved to be a flop: The hostess had invited fifteen girls and fifteen boys from her class, but only eight girls turned up. Anyway, that was the first time I danced in front of other people. While I was dancing, an unknown girl accosted me:

"Sorry, do you go to the gym?"

"No," I answered.

"To a dance school?" asked another one.

"No, nothing like that."

I began to wonder where they were getting at.

"To a swimming pool?"

"Neither."

"You should have answered ''yes''," was Mary's opinion, when I told her.

Obviously, the ladies were making fun of me...

Saturday, 18th March 1978

Aunt Penelope has started her old tricks again: Every time she meets me, she sends me on errands: "Go there and buy me that". More often than not, when I return from an errand she immediately sends me on another one. I can't put up with this any more.

Yesterday evening she happened to see me in my yard, as I had just returned from school.

"Yvonne, come here!" she called but I was not at all in the mood for running here and there at this hour.

"I can't, I have work to do!" I replied sharply and made for the back door, without even looking at her.

This morning aunt Penelope came over and began to complain at once: "I called Yvonne last night because I wanted to give her some pastry, but she told me she had work to do and she refused to come. So, those delicious cakes were finally eaten by other people! Bad for you!"

"I was tired," I excused myself awkwardly.

The good thing is that it will be a long time until she sends me on errands again.

Monday, 21st March 1978

Finally, I have realized that Mr Tellos is a mean little man, full of vulgarity and selfishness. I've heard so by many girls but I refused to believe it, until I saw it my own eyes this morning: The great lover is in the habit of sending love letters to all the girls in the class. During the geometry lesson, I stole a glance at a written message he had just sent to Virna: "You pussy is very nice", it read. When I saw it, I was taken aback. The other girls seem to be flattered with messages like this, but I don't want to know him any more!

Saturday, 1st April 1978

April Fools' Day today. According to the old custom, people tell any lies they want so as to trick the others and have fun. As soon as the bell rang for the first lesson, we changed classrooms with C3, hoping to miss physics. Nevertheless, the physicist came and gave us the lesson although we were in another room, while the mathematician went to the others who had occupied our classroom. So, our little trick didn't wash.

In the second hour we had algebra and we came up with a new plan: All girls from C3 and C4 gathered in the classroom of C4, while all boys were in the classroom of C3. However, when the mathematician and the literature mistress arrived, they made us return to our classrooms. So, neither this time did we shirk the lesson.

During the next break I met Dora, whom I've known ever since we were in primary school. Sometimes we talk, but we've never been close friends. I was surprised when she invited me to her birthday party, which is tomorrow.

In the fourth hour Mr Tellos sent me a love-letter signed with the name of another classmate. It read "You are very beautiful, I love you". I gave no answer. In the sixth hour, during the history lesson, Alex sent me three more messages but I didn't even deign to read them.

Poor thing, he thought that all girls were dying for one of his famous love-letters! Let alone it's already the talk of the class that the "lady-killer" keeps sending me letters that I just ignore. I had lots of fun today!

Sunday, 2nd April 1978

At 7.30 in the evening I went to Dora's party. Firstly I was astounded at the size of her house, then at its luxury. It is a real palace! Yet, the most unusual thing was that I felt quite comfortable there: Strangely enough, it was easy for me to talk to many of the guests, most of whom I had never seen before. Someone was telling hilarious jokes and we were all laughing, while waiting for Dora's older brother to give us the record player. He and his friends were behind closed doors, in another room, and they needed the record player because they were in the middle of a strange role playing game called "President of the USA" or something like this.

A little later, when the game ended, the older boys came out of the room and danced with us. A tall, gorgeous man asked to dance with me. I felt somewhat embarrassed because I'm not used to dancing, and when I do I am a little clumsy. I left the party at ten o' clock, according to mum's advice. When I got home, there were two delicious skewers waiting for me on the kitchen table.

Thursday, 6th April 1978

This is the most revealing day of my life: Only today did I finally realize what kind of "angels" all my classmates are, but most of all three bitches who seem to have all the strings in their hands. What happened to me this morning, was not a simple hoax. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I am awfully ashamed of myself and scared stiff of what I am going to face. Now I'm certain that all of them have been trying to destroy me, especially my soul. They eventually managed it today. I am already full of hatred. I want to take revenge. I want to kill, not only the three bitches, but all my classmates.

Let's take things from the start: During the whole week, that "lady-killer" of Alex kept sending silly love-letters to me as well as to all the girls in the class. Not only did I refuse to answer them, but I also avoided even to open them, because he often gets vulgar.

This morning he didn't send me anything; however, these three harlots thought it would be funny to write some false love-letters for me, signed with his name. It was evident that the first three messages were phoney because the handwriting didn't match. However, the fourth one was so perfect that I believed it was really Alex who had sent it. In the meantime, I was under tremendous pressure from all the other girls: "If you don't answer the messages, everybody will think you are too silly to understand!" Antonia told me and the others seconded her promptly. So, I decided to reply, asking him never to bother me again.

The disaster reached a peak during the break: Those three rascals wrote another message for me, Tellos happened to see it and he started pulling my leg. I felt extremely ashamed and disappointed. I wished I were dead. But it didn't stop there: Now the whole school is deriding me, they are calling me names, they all believe I'm stupid, and I have no idea on how to prove the opposite. The only thing I really want, is to blow up the classroom with everybody inside! I hate them all! I don't know how to get even with them. What can I do? Who can help me? Nobody, I'm afraid.

As soon as I got home, I went to my room and burst out crying for the rest of the afternoon. My mother saw that something was wrong and she urged me to tell her everything. After a lot of hesitation, I told her the whole story. To my surprise, she didn't advice me to "forgive, forget, and show good manners", as usual. Instead, she listened to me with interest and understanding; she even persuaded me to write down on a piece of paper the names of the three harlots: Helen Fourakis, Mary Tripis, Anna Tsaldaris.

"...but I want you to promise that you will neither come to school and complain, nor mention anything to anybody about them," I said.

"Don't worry, I know what to do," she reassured me.

Friday, 7th April 1978

I had the time of my life at school today: We were having a chemistry lesson, when Antonia suddenly started whining "...but we've knocked it off..." (apparently, she had done something too), while many of my classmates were fidgeting at their desks, full of worry. I wondered why and then I saw my mother in the schoolyard, heading for the headmistress's office.

When the bell rang, everybody came to me, one by one, and asked anxiously: "Did you mum say anything about me?" ... "Or about me?" and so on. I assured them that I had no idea about my mother's initiative, probably they didn't believe me, I couldn't care less. Even Alex Tellos was pale with fear:

"Did your mother mention anything about me? That was not my fault!" he said timidly.

"I don't know, maybe!" I replied.

He was scared stiff but he tried to play it cool. As about the three rogues, they almost admitted their guilt; and they were no longer in the mood for tricks and nonsense.

When the headmistress got into our classroom, she showered abuse on everybody, she also said she knew about the three ladies; then she gave us a geography test, I didn't know a thing, I couldn't care less either. Oh, yes, It was a wonderful day today!

Saturday, 8th April 1978

The three bitches had tantrums all day today. Why? Yesterday afternoon, right after classes were dismissed, the headmistress called them in her office and hauled them over the coals for three hours, as Mary Tripis complained this morning, still whining. I certainly can't say that I feel sorry for them.

... However, this rare victory of mine will bear serious consequences: Right from the very next day, I become a target for the whole school. Not only my classmates, but also pupils from other classes despise me openly and call me "mollycoddle" or "sneak" all the time. Wherever I am, I can hear torrents of mockeries, catcalls, jeers. The whole school has turned against me because I dared talk to my mother and because the three whores got a blasting from the headmistress (so much of a punishment). What did they expect, really? Put up with their wickedness for ever, without reacting anyhow, finding it even amusing? They are lunatics, all of them!

Thursday, 4th May 1978

This afternoon my mother, my sister and I went to see an oculist in Kolonaki, because all three of us have eye problems. We arrived half an hour too soon, and Alice kept nagging mum because she wanted a toast here and now.

We entered a big cafeteria which, strangely enough, was absolutely empty. As soon as we got in, the waiters started looking at us askance, whispering to each other. Some other people came in, but they didn't sit at the tables; they went down the stairs next to the bar and disappeared into the basement. Mum walked to the bar and ordered three toasts: one for my sister, one for me and one for her. The bar-woman prepared them quickly, she asked 150 drachmas for them (!), and then she said to mum, in a low voice: "Take your children and get out of here at once!" We got away at the double.

According to the doctor's diagnosis, my mother has presbyopia, and my myopia has risen a little. As about the small brown tumour my sister has in her left eye, thank God it has stopped growing. Fortunately, it is at the side of the eyeball and can't be seen by others.

Sunday, 7th May 1978

Mum, Alice and I took 100 drachmas and walked to the funfair witch takes place in Sourmena square (about a kilometre away from our house), on Sunday after Easter. Firstly, we got a lottery ticket and won a toothbrush. Then we went to the mirrors; I had great fun there, because some of them showed me short and fat, just like an ordinary female. A little later, we went to the swinging boats. Whom did I happen to see there? George Franzis, the most handsome man in the world! He looked taller and thinner than he did last year, he was dressed in crimson, he was simply gorgeous! He saw me too, we looked at each other, I thought he would stop and talk to me, but he just kept walking. I didn't dare speak to him. I just glanced at him and kept going...

Sunday, 21st May 1978

This morning I went to Mary's house in Voula and stayed there all day. I can't say I had a bad time, but the truth is that my friend has been acting like a diva lately and this gets on my nerves.

In the evening her uncle and aunt turned up. They have a son at our age. At their presence, Mary became even worse. She was always trying to be clever, she was rude to me or even ignored me completely. At a moment, I disagreed with her about something and she let fly at me:

"I've had enough of you! Go to hell!"

I was dumbfounded at her insolence, but I stood silent and checked in my anger.

"Has she abused you like that before?" her cousin asked me.

"No," I answered embarrassed.

"That was a good start!"

Later on, it was revealed that Mary's cousin and I attend the same gymnasium but he is in C2 class. I have never noticed him so far and, as he told me, I didn't remind him of anything either. "That's weird! How come don't you know me? The whole school has been talking about me!" I let slip but then I shut up immediately.

All night long, in my bed, I kept wondering: What's wrong with Mary? Once we used to get along so well. It seems my friend has changed; she is no longer the carefree girl I used to know. Day by day she is becoming a woman, while I obstinately remain a child. Mary likes flirting all men around her, while I don't give a dime. I am still in love with George Franzis. Mary enjoys going to the park and swaying her hips to all the boys there.

When I frowned at the whole performance this afternoon, Mary looked at me scornfully and said:

"You are a girl, too! You should sway your hips a little!"

Yet, this is impossible for me, maybe because I'm still tall and thin like a rake, not at all in the mood for airs and graces. Female mincing and simpering is just not my cup of tea...

Sunday, 18th May 1978

This time it was Mary's turn to come and stay with me for the weekend. I can't stand her any more. She's become such a smart aleck! She thinks she is the most beautiful and shrewd woman in the world. All she is interested in is throwing herself at any man she meets, including my friend Gregory who is twelve years old now.

During these two days, she was constantly itching to go to the local park and flirt any man she found there; moreover, she kept shouting English or French phrases so as to be heard by everybody. "Don't try so hard, we can speak English too!" a boy pulled her leg yesterday. Then, she was in the sulks and hardly talked to me from Saturday afternoon till Sunday evening, when she left with a long face.

Monday, 19th June 1978

I considered it weird that Mary called me this morning and asked me to visit her at 1:30. "We'll take lunch together, and we'll have a nice time! Bring your sister along, if you like," she said and I agreed, thinking that she wanted to make up for her bad behaviour at the weekend.

So, Alice and I arrived on time, we rang the bell three, four times, but nobody answered the door. We walked around for a quarter or so, into the heat of the summer, then we rang Mary's bell again, still nothing. We repeated the walk, we tried again at 2:05, to no avail. In the end, we took the way back home disappointed and exhausted for nothing.

Later in the afternoon, when I called her on the phone, Mary excused herself that she had to go somewhere for five minutes, right at the time of the appointment. Nonsense. I've been very patient with Mary, but I think enough is enough. I don't like these comings and goings anymore...

Thursday, 22nd June 1978

It was about noon when Mary phoned me and, without dropping the slightest hint about my birthday which was yesterday, she started boasting that she had passed the class with an average of 16. I congratulated her, though I know she barely got a 12. Then, she suggested we meet in the afternoon, but I told her straight out that we had better put an end to our friendship, since we can't communicate any more.

"Why, Yvonne? Why can't we communicate? Did we have a row? What happened?" she sounded sorry.

"We didn't have a regular set-to, but you hardly talked to me during the whole weekend and you always wanted to have the upper hand. You can't bear the slightest objection."

"Nobody likes objections!" she said sharply.

"Anyway, that was it, we are through!" I concluded.

"Shan't we meet again?"

"No. Goodbye, Mary."

"Goodbye..."

Wednesday, 28th June 1978

This is the last day of the entrance examinations to lyceum. I would take an exam in ancient Greek and I had to go to the high school of Argyroupolis, at the back of beyond. I don't know why, but I was confused and got off the bus five or six bus-stops before. As soon as I realized it, I started wandering in the streets in a frantic condition, desperately looking for the huge building. I knocked on many doors answered by drowsy people who had no idea where that high school was. Finally, after a frenzied trek through thorny fields, I found it at last! My relief was indescribable.

I was more than half an hour late, but fortunately the subjects hadn't been given yet. Helen, who was sitting behind me, wanted me to help her and kept nagging me all the time, just like she had done in all the previous exams. I had no other alternative but literally shout to her "Leave me alone!". The invigilator turned round and gave us a stern look, but she didn't say anything. Phew!

In the end, after all papers had been collected, the pupil sitting in front of me turned and talked to me. It was Helias, a polite boy with blond hair and blue eyes, one of the few good children in my class. He took a deep breath and, without beating around the bush, asked to get off with me; I found him agreeable and nice, yet I was not at all in the mood for such things and I discouraged him immediately. Besides, I found it rather strange that he chose to talk to me today, the last day of the exams. During the whole school year we had never spoken to each other, we didn't even say "hello".

"Shall I give you my photo, so that you will remember me?" he asked sadly.

"I can remember you without it!" I replied flat.

Friday, 30th June 1978

The school year is over, and I feel very happy about it because this was the worst year of my life. The whole school sucked, but especially my class (C4) was a regular bedlam, full of mad rogues who thought they were the eighth wonder of the world. They just couldn't put up with anyone different from them. "They are trumps and if they see a good child, they seek to make his or her life miserable", as the headmistress herself had said to my mother.

I passed the class with an average grade of 17.7, and got into General Lyceum with an average of 85%. Not so bad for someone who was derided by a whole school incessantly, vulgarly, malevolently. On the other hand, many "geniuses" in my class, popular and sexually experienced, didn't manage to move up. To name just a few: Anna Tsaldaris (a harlot), Dimitri Haribdis (help! A dragon at large!), Peter (a trashy Don Juan), Joanna (a bimbo), Vanda (a sly fox) etc. In all, 14 out of 38 children in my class will have to repeat the class...

Monday, 10th July 1978

The best and the worst day in my life: The school year has just started and I have to go to that awful high school again. On arriving there for the first time after three carefree months, I hope to meet some of my old schoolmates from the gymnasium of Glyfada. None of them is there, apart from George Franzis! We are looking at each other, we start talking cheerfully, he is gorgeous as always. I feel great, but then something nasty happens: I wake up and my frustration is beyond description...

In the morning I decided to walk to the high school of Glyfada and have a look at the results of the third class. I didn't see George's name anywhere and I was very disappointed. In fact, there is not much left of the unforgettable B4 of last year: Out of 61 children, I saw the names of 30 only – which means that my hopes are lost once and for all.

Wednesday, 12th July 1978

This afternoon my mother and I went to see a local physiotherapist. After he had examined me, he said I would need ten sessions of physiotherapy for my back. He also showed me some exercises to do at home, and I must keep doing them until I'm eighteen years old.

I'm really bored even at the thought of physical exercise, but at least I will get rid of that horrible orthopedic belt, since the physiotherapist considers it to be completely unsuitable for me:

"The belt immobilizes the body, while such cases of scoliosis require motion! Who prescribed that thing?" he wondered.

As soon as he heard the name of the other doctor, he gave us a meaningful look and said:

"And he sent you to his brother, right?"

Right...

Friday, 21st July 1978

This afternoon my dear sister managed to get on my nerves again: We were both lying in bed, watching TV. Alice was about to eat an apple and I was looking at an interesting poster of a Greek singer, which I bought the other day.

Suddenly, Alice began whining: "I want you to give me this picture, right now!"

"I won't give it to you, it's mine!"

"You are evil! Give it to me!"

"No! Why do you want it, anyway? You don't even like these songs!"

"I want it! I want it now!" she shouted and I refused again.

"I'll show you now!" she roared and hurled the apple at my belly with all her strength.

It hurt a lot, I burst into crying with pain and Alice snatched the paper cover from my hands and tore it to a thousand pieces. There followed a battle royal, I made a strongly-worded protest to mum about my sister's achievements, but she looked at me stern and said: "She's only half your age, you shouldn't pay her any heed" -the same old tune.

I ran to my room furious; a little later, mum came and told me that Alice was sorry about all that: "She tore your picture by mistake, she didn't mean it, she didn't know what she was doing, don't be so strict to her, try to understand..."

"Alright, now leave me alone," I replied and mum walked out with a long face.

Wednesday, 20th September 1978

This is the last free day for me, after three months of relative insouciance. During August, my family and I spent twenty days of vacations in Spain on my father's ship; nice, amusing holidays which I deserved after a horrible school year. We even had the chance of watching live bullfighting! It was very interesting, yet I was astonished to find out that the whole thing was a foul play. All six bulls were obviously sedated. Especially the first one could hardly walk. The matador's victory is preordained. The bull doesn't have the slightest chance of surviving the successive, coordinated blows of the bullfighters. I don't know why, but I identified myself with the bulls...

Unfortunately, schools are starting again tomorrow. Why do I have to return to that bedlam? I had a wonderful time in the summer, and I'm not at all in the mood for meeting all those rascals again. How shall I face all those hateful persons?

Chapter 11: Class A Lyceum

Saturday, 30th September 1978

Thank God, there aren't many of last year's schoolmates in my class, now that I am in the first class of lyceum (senior high school). For the time being, I don't think I'll have a problem.

This morning more pupils appeared, some of whom I thought I would never see again: Vanda was the first to turn up. She treated us to lollipops, she told us jokes and we had a laugh. By the way, isn't she one of those who failed to move up last year?

A little later, Mary Tripis came to join us. She greeted us in a friendly way and then she asked me smiling:

"Do you remember me?"

"Yes, I remember you," I replied.

How could I ever forget you?

The nightmare of last year's C4 seems to be only a sad memory now, but I feel I have already been stigmatized somehow. Nadia, a new pupil, came and talked to me right after the bell had rang for the first break. She appears to be a nice, quiet girl. I think we'll get along well. However, when I mentioned that I don't have many friends here, she was taken aback: "Doesn't anyone talk to you?" she asked, almost frightened.

And a really nasty surprise: Only this evening did I find out that as a lyceum pupil I could have enrolled in any school I wished! This means I could have chosen the lyceum of Glyfada but I didn't, because I thought I weren't allowed to. Therefore, I've lost all possibility of seeing George again -but I guess he won't be attending that lyceum either...

Monday, 2nd October 1978

As soon as I got to school, I looked for my new friend, Nadia. She didn't seem happy to see me. From the very first moment she treated me with frigidity and displeasure. I had to screw every word out of her.

"Shall we join Nina's party?" I suggested finally.

"No, they are having a discussion now!" she said sharply.

I stayed with her until the bell rang and I was bored to death. I don't intend to run after her any more.

Gregory and his parents were our guests for dinner this evening. I don't know why, but it was impossible for me to fight a certain feeling of isolation. Even Gregory, my childhood friend, kept chatting with Alice about a girl he likes at school. My sister offered to help him by asking her on the phone, pretending she were a classmate of hers.

"This is an old, good trick," she assured Gregory, who smiled happily.

"Hey, Yvonne, you see how clever your sister is?" he told me, giving me a meaningful look.

Aunt Pauline hastened to express her admiration too: "Alice is a live wire! She will never hesitate over anything!"

"Yes, right!" I said (couldn't bottle it up). "And when we say ''anything'', we mean anything!".

"No, I didn't mean that," she mumbled embarrassed.

Wednesday, 11th October 1978

In spite of the expected difficulties, I do my best to become more popular at school. I often press myself to join certain parties of girls, trying to look cheerful and sociable. However, as soon as I approach them, they stop talking at once and they go away within a second.

This morning, as soon as I arrived at school, I took a deep breath and decided to join a circle of classmates. I saw them watching me with an enigmatic look, but I kept going. When I got near, I suddenly slipped on something very slippery and fell down flat, before everybody's legs. I heard smothered laughter and whispering, but none of them did anything to help me stand up. Only Vanda spoke to me in an ironic tone: "The bad thing about you is that you are too tall and when you fall down you take up too much space!" Nevertheless, I smiled and stayed in the circle, which broke up within seconds.

Tuesday, 21st November 1978

This year I'm sitting at the second desk together with a new pupil, whose name is Virginia. However, most of the time I sit alone, because Virginia is in the habit of changing desks almost every day. To be more precise, whenever a girl is absent, Virginia goes and takes her place until the other one comes back to school.

"Do you mind if I sit with Nina today?" she asked me this morning.

"No, I don't; I have got used to it!" I answered.

Besides, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am isolated again, despite all my efforts for socialization. The only ones who tolerate my presence are two boring girls, fat Lena and religious Kate: All they do during the breaks, is hide in a corner and say the lesson to each other again and again; I just look at them bored stiff and wish I were in some other, more joyful party of girls.

In the afternoons I usually meet my cousins, Jenny and Niki, who left Cefallonia this summer. Now they live in their house in Glyfada, together with their parents. They have come to live here because Jenny intends to get into the medical school of the university of Athens. We meet almost every day, we drink tea, we go for long walks, we watch movies at the local cinema, we have a good time. We get along very well, especially with Jenny, with whom we discuss many interesting subjects such as men, marriage, feminism, our future careers etc.

Saturday, 23rd December 1978

There was a Christmas celebration at school today. First we watched a funny theatrical play organized by my class. All the "actors" performed very well, except Alex Tellos who seemed to suffer from stage-fright and his voice could hardly be heard. Then we had a big party. Everyone was dancing except me and Dora, who has lost her father lately. I was feeling very uncomfortable, sticking out like a sore thumb. I wanted so much to dance and have fun like all the other pupils but it was impossible for me; I had a strange impression, as if my whole body was tied up to heavy stones. I wish I had never been in that party...

Thursday, 25th January 1979

As time goes by, mockery and gossip against me are getting worse and worse, though not so evidently as last year. More often than not, I have to endure ostentatious laughs and askance looks. Sometimes I can sense a strong wave of derision in the air, coming mostly from the boys in my class. Especially after the breaks, when we are in class but the master hasn't entered yet, there is always an execrable hubbub of howls and catcalls around me. I usually refuse to admit I am its target, maybe because I feel totally unable to react anyhow. Sometimes I can't even listen clearly to what they say, as if I were deaf.

This morning, though, the low-voiced comments of the girls near me made me more suspicious. All at once, I heard Nadia shouting:

"Stop it now! Whenever she is in, you keep howling at the poor girl!"

"Oh, no, we don't!" said Haribdis ironically.

"But... how is it possible that she doesn't understand a thing?" I heard Lena wonder behind me. A little later, she found the opportunity and flung at me: "It seems to me that you are a sleepyhead!"

Thursday, 22nd March 1979

Today we went on a day trip to Delphi. We set off at 9:30 in the morning. I didn't like it at first. How could I? Nobody deigned to talk or sit next to me in the coach. Yet, the journey was wonderful. As soon as we arrived, we visited the museum and the archaeological site. The ancient temple of Apollo is a magical place, full of energy. The landscape of the green mountains surrounding the site is just amazing. I was feeling wonderful, all my sorrows and concerns were gone, my soul was serene. I wished I could stay there for ever.

Unfortunately, we stayed at Delphi only for one hour and then we left for the city of Itea, where we had lunch in a seaside taverna. Alex and Nina fell into the sea, they both got wet and everybody laughed. We had a nice time there, too. After a couple of hours we got on the coach and took the way back home. Quite unexpectedly, Antonia came and sat next to me. "Why should Yvonne be sitting all by herself?" she said to some others who looked at her in wonder.

Soon there was a party in full swing: The cassette player was on full blast and all pupils were clapping their hands to the rhythm of the music. Me too. After a while, I could feel by hands burning. Taking turns, we rose from our seats and danced to the music. The driver didn't mind at all; on the contrary, he seemed to be having a good time too. The highlight of the evening was when I danced a blues with Alex Tellos. Some pupils also told jokes and funny stories, everybody was happy, it was a cock-up!

We arrived at school at 9:30 in the evening. Many parents were standing outside, waiting for their children. I really had a terrific time today. It was a rare experience for me...

Wednesday, 9th May 1979

I was greatly surprised when Nina Fokas, one of the best pupils in our class, phoned me this afternoon and informed me about the newly established pupils' club, which is not far from our school, and the important meeting of today. I was happy to hear her but I also wondered about her interest in me; we hardly talk at school, we just say "hello".

When we got there, I saw numerous pupils from all three classes of our lyceum gathered in a spacious room. The atmosphere was friendly and positive. We mostly discussed the creation of various activity groups, such as music, dance, painting, cinema etc.

However, I don't know why, but I didn't manage to feel really comfortable with all those people; nor was I interested in any of the suggested activities, although I can play the organ quite well, I can paint portraits and I like cinema too. I can't tell what exactly put me off; maybe the frequent repetition of "there is a lot of work to be done by everybody". Don't we have enough homework already? In the end, we were asked to raise hands and enter ourselves for any of those groups; I didn't do so, not even once.

"Aren't you interested in any of these activities?" asked Nina.

"They are all fine, but I'm not good at anything, neither at music, nor at dance; and I seldom go to the cinema," I replied hastily.

I don't know what happened with that club finally, but I have never heard anything about it again...

Thursday, 17th May 1979

This afternoon, my cousin Annita and her mother paid us a visit. After a while, my sister suggested we go to the local park. It sounded like a nice idea and we agreed at once.

No sooner had we arrived and sat on the swings, when a dozen of teenage boys rolled up, some of them on bicycles, and surrounded us in a rather aggressive manner. I don't know what they wanted exactly; they just kept glaring at us, shouting rigmaroles and guffawing like lunatics.

A few minutes later we left the park, very annoyed. However, very soon we realized that we were being dogged by the gang. They kept jeering, wailing, swearing at us continuously, all the way home. They disappeared only when my mother answered the door and we got into the house.

### Chapter 12: Class B Lyceum

Monday, 15th October 1979

It's been hardly one month since the beginning of the new school year, and the concerted war against me has been clearly escalating: Wherever I am, I hear loud jeers, mocking laughter and malevolent comments. I usually can't understand the words, maybe because I have developed a sort of hysterical deafness. My classmates avoid me as much as possible; they even refuse to sit with me, as if I were a leper. It often happens that four girls sit crammed at one desk, while I sit all alone.

Anyway, the whole situation seems to be a mystery: Even if I were "haughty", "conservative", "wayward", "a mollycoddle" and I don't know what else I'm accused of, would all that hostility against me be really justified? After all, I never annoy anybody; in fact, I hardly speak to anybody. Or am I the only "nerd" in the whole school?

Wednesday, 24th October 1979

As if all the above weren't enough, during the breaks I often see an old acquaintance, who is no other than Vlassis! Apart from some sarcastic looks, I can't say that he bothers me while at school. However, more often than not, I happen to meet him outdoors and he is seldom alone; there is always a group of trumps around him, who all have a common target: me! This means that almost every day I have to confront gangs of bums who deride, jeer, or swear at me in streets, buses, public places, everywhere!

This afternoon, as I was returning from school by bus, I soon got aware of some commotion around me. There were about a dozen boys who were jeering and pointing at me, full of insolence, while the other passengers were looking at me in wonder. I didn't react anyhow; I only pretended nothing was happening.

In the evening, mum and I paid a visit to aunt Pauline. I was astonished when she said that she was in that bus too and that I looked very sad and miserable. "Why that long face, Yvonne? People would think: Who knows what problems the poor girl has!", she commented. I denied having any problems, but I wondered: First of all, why didn't I notice her at all? And how is it possible that she didn't get wind of what was happening in the bus?

Friday, 9th November 1979

With a view of the National Pan-Hellenic Examinations, since the beginning of this month I have been attending a local tutorial school called "Cyclotron". I spend three hours every evening there, which really tires me a lot. I have tuition in maths, physics and chemistry, since I have chosen to study exact sciences – although my marks are more suitable for classical studies, as a mistress told my mother.

The problem is that I have to study extra for the tuition centre; therefore, I don't have enough time for my regular homework. Moreover, I don't feel comfortable with the other pupils. During the breaks I usually stand alone in the balcony, waiting for someone to talk to me; I have tried to approach them a few times but it felt too difficult – maybe because their common disgust against me is getting more and more obvious day by day...

Thursday, 15th November 1979

No matter how hard I've tried to ignore it, a new incubus has come for me inside the rooms of "Cyclotron": Without my provoking it anyhow, certain pupils have it in for me. They constantly glare, swear or jeer at me with abnormal persistence, often carrying away the others. The fact is that the whole class has now turned against me. During the lessons there is a continuous, derisive hubbub of jarring giggles, hateful insults, vulgar mockeries, all of which target me and nobody else.

As a result, I sit all alone at one of those two-metre-long desks, while the rest of the pupils sit crammed, four or five together at one desk. Every time I raise my hand to answer a question, the whole class bursts into mad laughter, as if they were keyed up. It is weird though, that the masters are never annoyed by all this fuss and they never make the slightest remark to the trouble makers.

This evening a new boy came and sat next to me. He didn't stay long: Probably because I didn't speak to him with the required feminine, mincing manner, he sprang up from his seat and squashed himself together with four other boys at the front desk, saying: "Make some room for me, because she is in a bad mood!" There followed a torrent of wolfish roars and guffaws.

Thursday, 6th December 1979

This evening it was impossible for me to pay any attention to the lessons in "Cyclotron". There was a incessant, resonant farrago of mocking giggles, jeers and catcalls all around me. Suddenly, everybody burst into loud laughter. Instinctively looking up, I saw an open palm rising over my head, while the whole class was resounding with crazy laughter. The hand belonged to Dimitri Mavros, who sits right behind me. He is an ugly, skinny gipsy with black frizzy hair, dark skin and goggled eyes, and he is always the ringleader of the fuss. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?" I told him angrily. He crouched back and chuckled ironically. The rest of the class took a quarter to calm down. The teaching master didn't react anyhow, as if he hadn't noticed anything at all...

Wednesday, 9th January 1980

That was unhoped-for, but my mother finally agreed to my dropping out of the tutorial school since it offers me nothing, as I explained to her. I had been thinking about telling her so for two weeks, but I hesitated because I feared she might repeat "Don't pay any heed to those who mock you; just pay attention to the lessons, that's why you go there" – like she told me the other day, when I first tried to talk to her about my problems in "Cyclotron". Anyway, this afternoon I finally persuaded her to phone and inform them that I won't continue my tuition there. My relief was beyond description.

Sunday, 10th February 1980

This evening my family and I visited the renowned Monastery of Saint Irene in Lykovrisi. Then we decided to call on uncle Sebastian, who's my father's second cousin and he lives nearby. Fortunately, all three of his sons were at home and it proved to be a very positive experience, just like their visit to us three years ago.

Indeed, I wonder: Why do I feel so spontaneously free and comfortable when I am in the company of these cousins, and not at all "reserved", "nervous" or "boring", as usual? Maybe because they don't treat me as if I were that...

And a strange coincidence: The second son has an organ exactly similar to mine (make and model). The eldest one has a piano and he played a classical piece for us. He performed very well, and we all amazed at his skill.

A little later my cousins, Alice and I went for a walk in the park. I was greatly surprised when I found out that the pianist was not only unimpressed by my sister's sex-related ribaldry, but exasperated as well. He is probably the only person I have ever met who wasn't fascinated by my sister's mincing manners! I explained to him that adolescents of today get crazy when they hear the word "love", I humoured him a little and he calmed down.

I do enjoy the company of these cousins; I hope to meet them again soon, and keep our nice friendship alive. I don't know it yet, but I will never see them again...

Tuesday, 1st April 1980

This afternoon my mother and I paid a visit to aunt Pauline. Gregory was there too. He is in the third class of gymnasium now. We don't play in the streets any more, but our relationship has improved a lot. Anyway, I was astonished to see that Gregory got the second trimester report with an average grade of 17. I found that rather strange, since in the first trimester he had an average of 14, as usual. I don't know how to explain this mystery, but I've heard his parents have recently joined some political club.

Next trimester Gregory's average grade will fall back to 14. Why indeed? Did anything go wrong with the club?

Saturday, 14th July 1980

This evening Mrs Lucy, my mother and I went to the local cinema. There was an adventure film on. As soon as we sat on the white fabric chairs, I heard a mocking voice calling my name, amongst hundreds of spectators. Turning my head back, I saw Vlassis and some of his underlings, who were sitting three rows behind me. I tried to ignore them but the trumps kept on jeering at me and I could no longer contain myself. I turned back again, showed them both my open palms and shouted: "Here, that's for you!"

Three seconds later Vlassis was standing in the aisle next to me, his face red as never before, pretending to be unfairly offended.

"Did you show your palms at me?" he asked with a solemn face.

"Yes, I did!" I replied sharply.

He asked the reason why, there were mutual protests, complaints and confusion.

"Why do you make fun of Yvonne?" intervened my mother. "Yvonne never bothers anybody, why do you and your friends make fun of her all the time?"

"I don't make fun of her! There are some guys, who mock her..."

"You tell them to mock me!" I popped up in a fluster.

"Don't you go to school, young man?" mum asked then.

"I am a sailor!"

Really? That's why we've missed you for a few happy months?

At that point we dropped the subject, Vlassis returned to his seat, and mum hastened to scold me: "You shouldn't have done that! By showing your open palms at him, you let everybody in the cinema know who Yvonne is!"

"If I had let the rascals jeering at me during the whole film, wouldn't the others have seen who I am?" I retorted.

"Let's hope that Lucy didn't get wind of that!" sighed my mother.

Friday, 25th July 1980

I passed the class with an average grade of 16,5 -just like last year. Not much of a success. I didn't do so well in the Pan-Hellenic Exams either: Composition 12.5, Maths 11.5, Physics 14, Chemistry 16.5.

I had studied everything perfectly for the maths exam, apart from a note which contained an insignificant mathematical formula; during the school year, we had not dealt with it at all. Yet, one of the two problems given in the exam could be solved only with that formula! I did not panic, I used my brains and managed to find the answer by applying practical arithmetic.

Eventually, the master who corrected my paper was not moved by my effort and gave me a 11.5...

Wednesday, 31st December 1980

We had some very bad news today, which really spoilt New Year's Eve: Uncle Jerry, my mother's brother, died of heart attack at the age of 52 this afternoon. His unexpected death shocked us all.

Uncle Jerry was an interesting person: He used to visit us often, he brought us chocolate cakes and talked about many philosophical subjects. Since he had no family of his own, my mother had to spend the last day of the year arranging the funeral. My sister and I stayed at home together with aunt Pauline. Detail: A big flower pot disappeared from our yard three days ago; mum regarded the fact as a bad omen.

The very next day, Mrs Lemony will come to offer her condolences, pretending to be devastated for the loss of a man she hardly knew, since she hasn't spoken to us for years...

Chapter 13: Class C Lyceum

Friday, 6th March 1981

The third and last class of lyceum has almost finished but nothing has changed for me: While at school, I constantly have to put up with the same old gossip and jeers, the same hostility from everybody, the same boring duet of friends during the breaks. Moreover, it's been about a week now that my classmates have been avoiding me even more: They all make sure that they sit as far as possible from me, and they complain about a terrible smell in the classroom. This makes me wonder, because I haven't smelt anything bad so far.

Seeing that Nina was sitting alone at her desk this morning, I made so bold as to go and sit with her. "Welcome," she said in a flat voice. During the lesson of literature, there were groans of disgust echoing all over the class, probably because of the mysterious stench that only I can't smell. As soon as the lesson finished and the bell rang, Nina sprang up, took her things and went to sit at another desk, where three other girls were crammed. "She is terrible!" I heard her say to them and only then did I realize that I am the cause of the whole problem!

According to various hints I happened to overhear later, the smell is due to silent yet stinky farts which I let out continuously but, strangely enough, I can't feel them at all! How can this be possible?

Friday, 27th March 1981

I've had the same problem for a month now and I don't know what to do. I still wonder: How is this possible? Every day, for six or seven hours that I am at school, the whole classroom resounds with groans of disgust and everybody complains about the awful smell! They never stop! This morning, during the fourth break, as soon as I dared approach a circle of classmates, one of them turned towards me and asked sniffing: "Who let it out?". I got away hastily, as if admitting my guilt.

Saturday, 11th April 1981

I still go to the local playground from time to time; I just sit on a swing and watch the children play; it relaxes me a lot and makes me forget my troubles. This afternoon, little Nicolas approached and stared at me for a few moments, with an ironic smile on his face. He is an impudent, mischievous six-year-old boy, who is always swearing and pestering everybody in the park. His mother never makes the slightest remark to him, she just looks at him admiringly. Maybe that's why he has become such a handful.

I didn't even have the time to realize why, but the little monster started calling me names with his shrieking voice:

"You, tall camel, you are so ugly!"

"Shut your mouth, now!" I scolded him.

"You have a man's voice, too! You are a man! A man!" he mocked.

"You are a nasty little boy, you know that?"

"Shut up, you fart! You fart all the time and the whole room stinks!"

He repeated the last sentence over and over again, full of malice, while I was wondering flabbergasted: Does he really know what he is talking about? Has he heard about me, maybe? But from whom? There are too many mysteries around me lately...

Friday, 8th May 1981

I don't care about the problem of the "stench" any more. As far as I can see, there is nothing I can do about it. I have told my mother about it but she says it's only a fixed idea and that I should forget all about it.

In the meanwhile, pupils of other classes have started to talk about me: "What stinks?" I heard an unknown girl ask her friends on the road this morning, as we were all heading for school. "You know what!" another one answered meaningfully and they all giggled. I wasn't even close to them.

I find it weird though, that such things happen only when I am in the school premises. Nothing like this happens when I am at the English tuition centre, or at home, or anywhere else. Indeed, how is it possible that someone "lets them out" non-stop for seven hours every day, without ever realizing it?

Thursday, 6th August 1981

I took the lyceum certificate with an average grade of 16.7; as about, this year's Pan-Hellenic Examinations, I didn't do so well: Composition 14, Maths 11, Physics 16.5, Chemistry 16.5. As expected, with such marks I didn't manage to get into university and I am uneasy in my mind about the future.

School belongs to the past now, unlike my reputation. As it seems, I won't get rid of it so easily: Whenever I am in streets or in public places, I often have to put up with jeers, catcalls, mocking laughter, ostentatious spits down -as usual. I don't dare pass groups of youngsters on the road because they will surely make fun of me: "What an ugly camel you are!" ... "Help! A scarecrow walking!" ... "We like women, not garbage!" I heard this morning. Paradoxically, thought, such incidents happen to me only in the area where I live, in Glyfada; nowhere else.

Tuesday, 18th August 1981

Since yesterday evening my family and I have been in a hotel in Suez, Egypt, together with some other women whose husbands work with my father, on the merchant ship "Apollo". It's incredibly hot here. We could hardly walk around just for ten minutes this morning, since it was impossible for us to bear the extreme heat and all that dust in the air.

At one o'clock we had lunch in the restaurant of the hotel. Mum told the waiter that she wanted to eat a "chicken soupen" and everybody laughed. When the food came, my sister told the waiter that she didn't want any grated cheese, but he didn't understand and he spread a little cheese on her spaghetti; Alice stood up immediately and walked away crying. What a vamp...

It was late in the afternoon when the agent came at last. When we finally got aboard the "Apollo", everybody was happy because women and children could finally meet their husbands and fathers after many months of separation.

No sooner had we entered my father's cabin, when mum was astounded to see Alice kissing a handsome dark-skinned steward in the corridor. She didn't mention anything to dad, of course. The young man comes from Pakistan and his name is Sayed.

Late at night, my sister, two other children and I gathered in the cook's cabin and watched an interesting adventure movie, which had no subtitles. I was impressed, because it was the first time in my life that I had watched a film in a video player.

Saturday, 22nd August 1981

We are on roadstead outside the harbour of Latakia, in Syria. Dad spends his time playing backgammon with Jimmy, the marine engineer, and he always loses. They both shout, sing and joke all day. Nick, the wireless operator, happens to be a dwarf and Jimmy is always after him: He calls him "nephew", he plays tricks on him or grabs him and turns him upside down. Marina, the engineer's four-year-old daughter, is very fond of me and she follows me wherever I go. I have a really nice time here, on the ship.

This evening all Greek seamen and their families had dinner on the deck. We roasted a lamb, we drank wine, we told jokes and we had some laughs. Michael, a nice Pakistani steward took us lots of photographs.

Thursday, 27th August 1981

At noon we entered the harbour of Latakia at last. In the afternoon we went out, to the city. Syria proves to be a modern country with lots of shops. Half of the native women wear traditional long dresses and kerchiefs on their heads. The other half wear blue jeans and T-shirts, and they don't hide their hair. We enjoyed shopping for hours, we bought colourful traditional clothes and fine jewels: a gold bracelet for me and a gold watch for Alice.

Later, in the evening, we all went to an outdoor restaurant. There was a big group of Arabs sitting at the next table. Their wives were wearing heavy, dark-coloured coats, despite the terrible heat of the summer. However, when they undid some buttons, we saw that the heavy coats covered expensive silk gowns and sparkling jewels.

Sunday, 30th August 1981

This evening some of the sailors decided to go out. We were casually watching them from the deck, when my fourteen-year-old sister suddenly sprang up, rushed out to the dock, and ran to catch up with Luigi, the third engineer. The guy is handsome, but he is 37 years old and married with seven children. Dad frowned in disappointment. "It seems that your daughter is used to chasing men!" he said to mum.

At night we were invited to dinner by Alonzo, a Syrian steward. I was impressed at the luxury of his house and the good manners of his family. Alonzo, who is a Muslim, proves to be a quite progressive man: Not only does he let his wife go out without a kerchief, but he also allows her to work as a teacher. He helps her with the housework too. There were lots of Syrian traditional dishes on the table and I liked most of them. I had pilaff with dried fruit, stuffed vine leaves and yogurt sauce.

Tuesday, 15th September 1981

Early in the afternoon, the Asian sailors made trouble because nobody came to serve them lunch, as they complained. They smashed up everything in their dining room and then they all returned to their cabins, refusing to work. It was Sayed who had started the mutiny. Michael was carried away by the others. Luigi was scared and hid in the engine room. The chief steward and the cook didn't turn up at all, because they both had a terrible back ache, as they said. The truth is that the sailors caused all this trouble because they know that most of them will be fired as soon as we arrive in Belgium.

Thursday, 17th September 1981

This morning we arrived in Antwerp, Belgium, after fifteen days of dull voyage. All women and children went for a walk in the beautiful city. Most of the buildings are old but well-preserved, the streets are covered by flat cobbles and the people are good looking and well dressed. The weather is always rainy or cloudy, but it's not very cold.

We finally got into a huge department store, we shopped in all of its seven floors and when we finished, we had ice creams in the restaurant of the eighth floor. There aren't so big and luxurious department stores in Greece.

Later, in the afternoon, Mr Kranas, the ship owner, came into my father's cabin. He had just arrived from Greece and wanted to know everything about the mutiny. He seemed polite, calm and composed. He sent for Sayed, who came immediately. The young man was asked to apologize, which he did reluctantly.

"The ship owner never loses!" said Mr Kranas finally.

"Yes, but socialism is gaining ground," retorted Sayed with a timid smile.

We shall spend two more carefree days in Antwerp, going for long walks in the cobbled streets, shopping in the same department store, visiting the immense zoo and the aquarium, having a good time in night clubs with Greek music. On Sunday we shall return to Athens by air. This is not only the end of a nice trip, but the end of "the happiest days of my life" as well...

Chapter 14: Daydreaming

I really needed to rest for a while and forget my bleak past, so I decided to keep a low profile this year. All I have been doing ever since I finished lyceum, is go to an English tutorial school and study for the Proficiency Certificate. I have also studied maths by myself, at home, with the aim of repeating the Pan-Hellenic Examination. Maybe I should have attended one of those big tuition centres in Athens, but the negative experiences from "Cyclotron" deterred me from that.

Anyway, when the day of the maths examination arrived, as soon as I got out of the house I noticed that Tweety, our canary, was not in his cage. We had left him out all night, his cage hanging next to the front door, and obviously someone found the opportunity to steal him during the night. My mother frowned and considered it to be a bad omen; I don't believe in superstitions but I was sorry about the loss of the bird.

Eventually, the exam proved to be a catastrophe: Although I had studied very well, the subjects seemed entirely incomprehensible to me. In the end, I got a 01.5, the lowest mark in my entire school life.

Sunday, 16th January 1983

Since September I have been attending a secretarial school as well as an Italian tuition centre in Athens. It is my intention to leave for Italy and study Astronomy, which has always been my greatest dream. The decision about studies abroad was taken after an idea given to us by George, a good cousin of mine, who has always believed in me: "Yvonne must become a scientist! She shouldn't be interested in anything less!" he said, as soon as we told him about the secretarial school.

In both the Italian and the English tuition centres, I am "one of the best students, if not the best", as my teachers say. Moreover, I never have any problems of socialization there. Nobody makes fun of me there; on the contrary, all my classmates are fond of me and acknowledge my due.

As about my future carrier, my parents' opinion remains the same ever since I was an infant: When I get married I must stop working. Yet, a university degree will always be useful to me because I will be able to show it off to my husband any time we quarrel. I used to agree to that idea till recently, but now I wonder: Why should I spend five years of my life studying hard, only to become a housewife? If I take a university degree, I had better use it.

Saturday, 5th February 1983

Despite my relative popularity at the tutorial schools of English and Italian, my social life is getting poorer and poorer: Cousin Jenny has recently returned to Cefallonia, where she works in a bank. As about Niki, I've never got along so well with her. I don't have any other friends, so I usually attach myself to Alice's circle: When one or more of her numerous friends come over, I hasten to join them even if they make a wry face.

As about boys, they never approach me unless they really have to! In all probability they are repelled by my excessive shyness, as well as by my still childlike body: I am 1.77 m tall, I weigh 48 kilos, I have flat breasts and the opposite of a wasp waist. Besides, all relatives and neighbours still admire Alice because "she is very feminine", "as sharp as a needle", "such a lively girl", while I am "conservative", "blunt" and "boring", as they say.

This morning Helen, who is Alice's best friend and notorious for her loose morals, paid us a visit. We soon started a heated discussion regarding my sister's liveliness in contrast to my reserve: "Psychologists say that lively children are normal, whereas quiet children are not!" said Helen, with an air of expertise.

Yet, I wonder: What does it mean to be "lively"? Judging by what I see around me, to be "lively" means always go with the flow: Is swearing in fashion? "Lively" people swear more than anyone else. Is mini skirt in fashion? "Lively" girls wear the shortest one. Is drinking alcohol in fashion? The "lively" get stinking drunk every night, and so forth. On the other side, all these "lively" girls turn pale when they hear that I intend to leave my family and go to Italy for studies. They intend to have fun till they are twenty and then get married, have children and live on the memories of their youth (how original!). All things considered, "lively" people are nothing but the most obedient pawns of the system...

Thursday, 24th March 1983

Something very odd happened this evening: While I was in the kitchen making sandwiches, Alice and Helen were in the living room. They were having a hot argument about extraterrestrials and flying saucers – which I found strange, since the two of them had never shown any interest in such things before. They always talk about fashion, boys and dates. All of a sudden, both girls came running to me and they both looked very upset.

"It's incredible, you will never imagine what's just happened, Yvonne!" started Alice, in a quivering voice.

"What... what happened?" I got curious.

"We were talking about UFOs and aliens, whether these things really exist or not, and you know what?" went on Alice.

"We saw a flying saucer right outside the window!" exclaimed Helen, in obvious bewilderment.

"It was flying a little higher than the electric current wires, right opposite our house! Can you believe it?" added my sister, still quivering.

"Of course I can't believe that," I replied smiling. "You probably imagined the whole thing because you were having a relative conversation!"

"No, we really saw that, we both saw that!" protested Helen.

"Yeah, and the UFO came right outside your window, to say ''hello''! Come on girls!"

I certainly can't take this story at its face value; In all probability, the two of them imagined the flying object because they were immersed in their discussion; sometimes, the mind plays strange tricks. Or, maybe, they made up the whole tale because they wanted to pull my leg. On the other hand, it's not at all like them to talk about such things or make up such stories...

Monday, 16th May 1983

My sister has been in big trouble lately: A few days ago she had a date with her boyfriend, a certain Mr Antony Markakis, and dad happened to pass by and see them. He has been outraged ever since, reprimanding Alice again and again because "she has dishonoured our family" and "woe is us if rumour spreads, what will people say?". Moreover, he insists on meeting the bloke, "...so that if anyone comes and tells me he's seen Alice with a boyfriend, I will be able to retort that I have already met him!"

Anyway, Alice was finally forced to speak to Antony about our father's demands and, strangely enough, the young man did not at all object to meeting him in a café this afternoon. When dad returned home in the evening, he looked calm and satisfied. Obviously, the would-be groom made a very good impression on my father, who finally assured him: "Our meeting means no commitment for you!" Too much ado for nothing, I think.

Wednesday, 15th June 1983

Here is the continuation of the love story: My mother has been itching to meet Antony's parents who, as far as we know, have separated lately although they have five children. "Besides, it's urgent that we find out this guy's intentions regarding your sister!", announced mum this morning. Then she asked me to accompany her to Antony's house, which is not far from ours.

As soon as we saw the old hut with the weedy garden, we were speechless but not daunted. Mum rang the bell and a fat disagreeable lady answered the door. Fortunately, that was not Antony's mother, but an aunt of his. "Mrs Markakis cannot see you now, she has visitors," she told us scornfully. There were many other relatives inside the almost dilapidated house -probably a family reunion. Finally, Antony's mother appeared at the threshold; she looked friendly, we exchanged a few words and she promised to come and visit us as soon as possible.

Friday, 5th August 1983

Antony's parents are about to take a divorce: His mother lives with her boyfriend, his father lives with his girlfriend, and the old house has been abandoned. I am not sure where their five children live. Antony, who is the eldest, had rented a house nearby; yet he stayed there just for one month, since it proved to be more expensive than he had initially expected. Finally, my sister coerced my parents into allowing Antony to move in with us – on condition that nothing "irreparable" happens.

It's been three weeks now ever since Antony came to live with Alice on the second floor. My sister is on cloud nine, the two of them do nothing but make out and kiss passionately all day long. I have to admit that the guy is very handsome; that's why Alice finally chose him over hundreds of guys who had been flirting her: He is only 18 years old, he has a muscular body, blond hair and blue eyes. For the last three years he has been working in a carpenter's workshop and he is very efficient at his job. He is not educated, he has finished only elementary school, but he has a pleasant, gregarious character. On the other hand, sometimes he gets irritable and violent; he beats up Alice over a trifle and she does everything she can to hide it. Anyway, it usually doesn't take them long to make it up and start necking again.

This evening, the couple and I went to the local cinema, where we watched a dull comedy. On our way home, not even for one moment did the two of them stop giggling, kissing, cuddling, chasing each other, in a rather ostentatious manner, I'd say.

Then, Antony grabbed Alice with his strong hands, turned her upside down and started revolving her body around his playfully, making sure to catch her just on time before she crashed her head on the pavement. I found the game silly, but Alice kept laughing, apparently enjoying it.

Surely, I have seen couples making out many times, but I have the impression that the two of them were showing off too much. I also found it strange, especially after their big row of yesterday: The macho man beat up the vamp again, she cried and cried for hours, neither remembers the reason, and I suspect Alice actually likes all this. In all probability, she regards physical assault as proof of passion -just like most women do...

Tuesday, 30th August 1983

As the time for my departure is coming closer and closer, I gain more and more self-confidence. Ambition is flaring up inside me and I like it: I already envisage myself working in the Observatory as an astronomer, making great discoveries, reaching the highest levels of scientific achievement. Apart from that, I also aspire to become a writer of science fiction books and I have already started writing my first novel, entitled "The Conspiracy of Shadows". I won't calm down, unless I fulfill my dreams!

Nevertheless, first I have to get rid of all the inner bondage I have been burdened with since my early childhood: Timidness, self-pity, passivity, pessimism. Surely, a part of the fault lies with me: I have always appeared different from the others, I have never followed the herd. This is unforgivable in the society of humans: You are never accepted as an individual, with your own peculiarities; all you can do is always adjust yourself to the mass, never showing the slightest deviation.

Therefore, from now on I must pretend I am exactly like them: I must behave in the same way as they do, and tell them stories that my life is not at all different from theirs. In general, I must say to people only what they want to hear. In this way, I won't arouse any suspicions about by difference, they will let me be and I will be more focused on my goals.

However, certain difficulties have already appeared: I have considered it right not to apply for Astronomy, which I really wanted, because there are only two available positions for foreign students in all Italian universities. If I had applied for that faculty, there would be great risk of my not being admitted at all. Therefore, I have chosen to start my studies with Industrial Chemistry in the university of Padova; next year I will have the right to enroll in Astronomy.

Anyway, the fat is in the fire now. I'm leaving for Italy in a week. I feel a little anxious but I'm optimistic about the future. I believe that everything will be fine from now on...

Chapter 15: Circumspection

Monday, 5th September 1983

My dream of superior studies in Astronomy began early this morning, when my mother and I set out for Italy. It was late in the afternoon when we finally arrived in Padova. Before long my optimism started to wane: We literally scoured the whole city in a taxi, but it just proved to be impossible for us to find a vacant room in a hotel.

After two hours of vain search, the taxi driver was so disappointed that he turned off the tariff counter. For some mysterious reason, all receptionists refused to accommodate us for more than two days. In the end, we managed to find a room in a shabby-looking hotel, after a three-hour ride. The kind hotel owner was the only one who agreed to let us stay for a week...

Friday, 16th September 1983

It was about time! I have just managed to find more permanent accommodation in the hotel "Mariposa". My room is nice and comfortable, however the window overlooks an avenue that's full of traffic, cafeterias and shops. The road is very noisy all day long, till 2:00 o'clock after midnight; the hustle and bustle starts again at 5:00, before sunrise. Moreover, the hotel is rather expensive, which means I have to find lodgings in a house as soon as possible, like most foreign students do.

In the meantime, I have been facing too many difficulties with bureaucracy, as public services either refuse to help (especially me), or fail to give me the correct explanations, or entangle me in unnecessary procedures.

There is another problem too: As far as I've been informed, the lessons will begin on the 7th of November. Therefore, I consider it wiser and cheaper to return to Greece and stay at home for two weeks, until the school year begins. Fortunately, the hotel owner has agreed to keep my stuff in a storeroom until I come back.

Friday, 18th November 1983

I have been attending the University of Padova for ten days now, and I have learned some perturbing things: a) The faculty of Industrial Chemistry in Padova is regarded as the third most difficult in Italy, b) Actually, the lessons started two weeks earlier than I thought, which means that I've missed the first two weeks because no one of those "in charge" could inform me correctly when the school year would begin.

At least, I have found a place to live: It is a spacious, comfortable apartment in the suburb of Arcella, not far from the railway station. After two months of unavailing efforts to find permanent lodgings, this apartment seemed to be godsent, despite the high rent (230.000 lire, a monthly salary) and the fact that I share it with an Italian co-tenant: it's the 25-year-old Silvana, who works as a chambermaid in a hotel. So far, so good: Silvana seems to be an agreeable person, and I also get along well with Daniela, the middle-aged owner of the house.

This morning, however, as Daniela was leaving, she told me smiling: "This jumper stinks! You must wash it!" I was taken aback, but I didn't bear any objection because I didn't want to upset her. Besides, I thought she might have been right...

Monday, 12th December 1983

Day by day I'm losing my patience: The two bitches, the house owner (who comes round almost every day for a quick inspection) and the co-tenant, are always giving me a rough time. They keep complaining that I don't take baths, that I stink of filth, that I don't do any household chores; all this is nothing but lies, of course. On the other hand, I never contradict them, I always try to satisfy their demands, I do whatever they ask me to, I show adaptability and friendliness. Yet, no matter how hard I try, the two of them are never satisfied.

Moreover, there is no key to my room, which means that whenever I am absent, the two bitches can enter freely and tamper with my things. It was the second time this afternoon that I discovered there was a banknote of 50.000 lire missing from my handbag. I didn't say anything, because I had no proof that they had stolen it.

Friday, 16th December 1983

I had just returned from university and I was about to watch my favourite science fiction series on TV, when Silvana came from work. She strutted into the living room, changed the channel quickly, walked out with hasty steps and disappeared into the kitchen. I changed the channel again and turned down the volume. However, the slut rushed into the room again, stood in front of me and asked with an air of importance:

"Why did you change that?"

"You want to watch something else?" I wondered.

"Yes, I do!"

"Then, choose the channel you want!" I told her as calm as possible and I got out.

I don't intend to sit in the living room ever again.

Monday, 23rd January 1984

Unfortunately, Christmas vacations are over. This evening I returned to Italy, after eighteen days of calmness with my family. As soon as I entered my room in Arcella, I was astounded to see that all my towels were spread on the radiator, dried out by the heat! I rushed and picked them up at once.

It is not at all hard to understand what has happened; nevertheless, I can't say a word because Silvana would claim that it was I who left the towels on the radiator before leaving for Greece two weeks ago. If that was the case, the whole house would have been burnt down by now...

Wednesday, 18th January 1984

Ever since I returned to Italy, Silvana and Daniela have escalated the war against me: Almost every day I have to put up with insults such as "What's that smell! You stink! Go away!" or "You don't take baths, you are filthy!". Sometimes the two of them talk in a low voice, yet making sure that I can listen: "She doesn't understand a thing! She is a stupid cow!" or "How shall we get rid of that nitwit?"

In the meantime, I have been desperately looking for another house but, unfortunately, so far I haven't managed to find another place to stay -not even a hen coop! In general, landlords avoid letting out rooms to foreign students. Besides, according to hearsay evidence, there seems to be an invariable tactic of Italian house owners: They make their tenants' life miserable, so as to get rid of them in three or four months, finally keeping the two or three rents paid in advance. That's a rattling good trade! As Silvana informed me this afternoon, five different girls, one after the other, had rented my room the previous year!

After four months of meeting cunning landladies who often seek to rip me off without even letting out a room, a certain suspicion has started to haunt my thoughts: People around me are not at all what they seem to be. Behind the smiling mask of the average, well-dressed and polite citizen, hides a criminal mobster, who's able to stab you in the back in order to to steal 10.000 lire from your pocket.

Strangely enough, however, all the other foreign students finally manage to find lodgings somewhere, one way or another. I seem to be the only one who can't find anything after so many months of continuous search. Instead of studying, I spend most of my time vainly looking for another house and I can't concentrate on my studies – and universities here are very demanding, they are no joke, as they are in Greece. Consequently, I will fail in all the examinations of the first semester...

Friday, 27th January 1984

This morning, as I was reading the classified ads in the newspaper hoping to find another room to rent, I saw something that looked like a unique opportunity: "For sale: Bedroom in perfect condition, Milan. Price: 210.000 lire. Phone no ...". I was thrilled, I made a phone call at once and arranged to go and see the room in the afternoon.

I took the bus to Milan and then I had to walk about three kilometres along a deserted road outside the city limits, until I finally found the isolated villa with the tiled roof. Yet, I was not daunted; such a nice house is worth a little fatigue, I thought.

When the polite owners of the villa explained to me that the furniture was included in the price, I could hardly believe how lucky I was. Then, all of a sudden, it occurred to me that only the furniture was for sale, not the room! I dropped from the clouds at once.

In the end, the man of the house kindly offered to give me a lift all the way to Padova. During the hour-long journey I stayed taciturn, sadly pondering over my unbelievable blunder again and again: How could I get it all so wrong? How could I ever imagine that somebody would ever sell a room in their house? This is paranoiac! Probably, the dire straits I've been in lately, have affected my judgement. This is the only logical explanation for my unprecedented inanity...

Thursday, 2nd February 1984

I was studying for the maths examination, when suddenly Silvana rushed into my room furious:

"Listen, Yvonne, I've just seen my doctor, and he says I have contracted scabies, and this happened because I come in contact with a dirty person who doesn't wash! And this person is you, Yvonne!"

"What?" I shouted, hardly realizing what she was talking about.

"If I have this disease, you have it too! You should go to a doctor at once! And if you don't leave the house within three days, I will evict you!" she snorted maliciously and walked out with quick steps.

I went on studying for a few moments, but then I quit. It was just impossible for me to go on. Right after, a tremendous storm broke out in my mind. All of a sudden, my world was falling apart. Silvana was threatening with eviction and lawyers, while I was feeling helpless and miserable. I even started wondering whether that harlot could be right: Indeed, I've been smelling something bad around me lately, and this strange stink seems to be coming from my body; it never goes away, not even when I have a bath. Especially now, after Silvana's offense, the stench has become even more unbearable. Maybe I am really sick, maybe I do have scabies, I thought, full of anguish.

Next moment I stood up and got out of the house in a state of frenzy; I walked in the streets for many hours, soliloquizing continuously like a madwoman, until I reached a hospital. I got in and asked to be given medical tests, so as to find out if I actually had the disease mentioned by Silvana. I narrated the whole story to the doctors, they got the drift of it at once and they were sincere enough to explain that in such cases what is needed is a lawyer, not a doctor. Only then did the idea of my being seriously ill start to fade away...

Friday, 3rd February 1984

However, the terrible stench given off by my body seems to be getting worse and worse every moment. At the same time, I feel like drowning in a cascade of negative thoughts and an irresistible desire for revenge; yet, I'm not at all sure about what to do next. The fact is that all this endless suffering, the merciless war I have been at ever since I set foot in Italy, the excessive expenses, the vain exhaustion, are just not worth the while.

After hours of thinking it over and over again, I finally realized that the best thing to do is quit my studies and return to Greece. I phoned my parents right away, I explained everything, crying continuously for 40 minutes, and announced my final decision. They showed enough understanding and reassured me I had made the right choice.

In the afternoon I went to the police and denounced the two bitches (Silvana and Daniela) as impostors. I explained everything to the policemen, I told them about all the intrigues the two sluts had set up against me and other girls, and I also reported that the landlady had never given me a receipt for the monthly rent. The police officers were interested in my case, they wrote down everything I said and I felt a lot better. There is no other reason for me to stay in Italy any longer...

Saturday, 4th February 1984

So here I am, on the train to Venice, early in the morning, leaving Padova behind for ever. I am also leaving behind my dream of studying Astronomy and living a more interesting and meaningful life.

The truth is that, in spite of the incredible adversities, I experienced a different quality of life during those months I spent in Italy: Strangely enough, I managed to make many friends there, as I was spontaneously sociable and open to everybody, including men. It was pleasant, natural and easy for me to go for a walk with a boy. Men didn't avoid me and I didn't run away from them. Even time seemed to be passing more slowly, more naturally. During these months, it was as if I were a different person, in a different universe.

Yet, the miracle was not meant to last. Now it is all over and I am here now, on the train to Venice; soon I'll be on the plane to Greece. I am leaving now, actually forced out of that different universe, while my old self is calling me back with an omnipotent, malignant attraction. I feel extremely disappointed and I can't stand the stench my own body gives off. I must be very sick, I have to see a doctor, the sooner the better...

As the train is accelerating on the rails, I feel more and more desperate. An endless blackness is flooding my soul. I know well that when I return home, I will become what I once was: isolated, disagreeable, a misfit, a loser. I hope to avoid the return to my old miserable self, but deep inside I know this is out of the question.

As soon as I arrive home in the evening, the first thing I do is ask my mother whether she can smell anything nasty on me. She is taken aback at my question and she tells me that, on the contrary, I smell wonderful! Next moment the stench will vanish into thin air! It is unbelievable what autosuggestion can do...

Chapter 16: Running on Empty

Sunday, 24th June 1984

This evening my sister is getting married to her beloved Antony, after a passionate and adventurous love story of one year. It's hardly been three months ever since they got prematurely engaged, because Alice had a miscarriage – which meant that the two of them had consummated their love affair. Consequently, my father had demanded that they should be engaged at once, "before we become the scorn of the whole city".

As about the wedding, it was initially intended to take place next year. However, the groom is going to join the army in the camp of Tripolis at the end of next month, and Alice raised the roof the other day because she wants to go and visit Antony in Tripolis, every time he is on furlough. Once again our father remembered the traditional manners and customs: "This is unheard-of, an unmarried woman staying with her boyfriend for days! I won't allow it, unless you two get married!" he said. Just as I had expected, the crazy lovers didn't bear the slightest objection to getting married here and now.

Nice couple, anyway: Antony is 18 years old, Alice is 16, they both are very young, lively and good-looking. "They look like children who have dressed up as a groom and a bride for the carnival season," said uncle George, as soon as he saw them together in church. When the sacrament was over, there was a feast at home with dozens of guests. We all had a whale of a time...

Monday, 30th July 1984

For six months now, since the very next day of my return to Greece, I have been looking for a job feverishly. On one hand, I feel the need to earn my own money; on the other hand, the continuous pressure from my parents is terrible. So, with the Proficiency Certificate in hand, I have already sought work in hundreds of companies and English tutorial schools in Athens, Piraeus and suburbs. Yet, so far it has proved impossible for me to find even a part time job, probably because I haven't got any working experience.

However, maybe there is also something else to blame for my unemployment: When I go to apply for a job in an office, my sister usually comes along with me. As a result, personnel managers don't take me seriously because I carry my little sister along. She says she wishes to find work too, although she is only sixteen and a half years old and her only qualification is the gymnasium certificate. In addition, she is married and her husband wants her to stay at home and be a good housewife. Sometimes I have the impression that Alice is only trying to compete with me.

The only one who seemed willing to hire me as a secretary, was the owner of a car rental office near Omonia square, where I went on Friday afternoon. "You are good enough for me!" he said calmly, as soon as he heard that I can speak English and Italian and that I have finished a secretarial school. He warned me that I would have to work overtime very often, and that "in our company, secretaries bring their own typewriter at work". I didn't say no, although I found it weird: On one hand, the company has so many clients that I will have to work overtime; on the other hand, instead of furniture they use chopped tree trunks; moreover, their only typewriter is badly damaged and they can't afford to buy another.

Nevertheless, I agreed to start working this morning. My mother is enthusiastic about it, but my father seems to be a little troubled. "You might as well lose the typewriter" said aunt Lina, his elder sister, when dad phoned her yesterday and told her about my newly-found job. Finally, after a lot of wavering, at the last moment I decided to turn down this job...

Monday, 10th September 1984

After a month of summer relaxation, I have started looking for a job again. I've had enough with companies and English tutorial schools, though. Instead, I prefer to start giving private lessons of English. For this reason, I have placed a classified ad in the newspaper, and a week ago I finally managed to find my first pupil: His name is Constantine, he is in his thirties, married with a two-year-old child, and he lives in Kalamaki. He works as a waiter in an expensive restaurant and he wishes to learn some English so that he can communicate better with foreign customers.

No sooner had our third lesson started this morning, than his wife came into the room, paid me 500 drachmas for an one-hour lesson and announced that "Constantine hardly has any time to eat, still less to study English! That's why we must stop the lessons!"

I got a smack in the eye but didn't show any displeasure. I refused to get paid without having worked, but she insisted on my taking the money. So, I finally accepted the banknote and left, sad and perplexed, wondering what had gone wrong; maybe it was the fact that the previous time the gentleman was entirely unprepared and I told him he should study harder...

Friday, 14th September 1984

Fortunately, two days ago I managed to find another pupil: Her name is Vassia, she is twenty years old and she studies Literature. She lives in Hymettus, which is a little far from my home; I have to take two buses to get there, but never mind. This afternoon we had our first lesson, and I saw she has a good knowledge of the English language. She is also friendly and polite. I think we'll get along very well.

Wednesday, 19th September 1984

It was about 2:30 in the afternoon, when I had a phone call from a frenzied bloke who said he was the owner of an English tutorial school in Alimos. He explained that he had just seen my advertisement in the newspaper and that he was in urgent need of an English teacher, because one of his employees had just quit her job. Then he demanded that I should take a taxi and come to his school at once.

Twenty minutes later I was at his office. I was full of optimism, expecting to be hired on the spot. However, as soon as he saw me, the bald, skinny, black-dressed man made it clear that he wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible: "So, you have no working experience? But I thought you had some... I would prefer a teacher who's taught in a class before...". Nevertheless, while we were talking on the phone, he had not mentioned anything about working experience.

Thursday, 27th September 1984

This morning I saw an interesting ad in the newspaper, reading that "ladies with some knowledge of English are wanted as teachers in an English tuition centre in Athens". As soon as I arrived at the given address, I saw there was no signboard of the school. I found that strange, but I rang the bell.

When I got in, I was received by a dark-skinned guy, obviously of Asian origin, who acted as if he were the manager. He gave me a written and oral test, and he was very satisfied with my results. "You don't pronounce ''r'' so well", he only remarked. He told me that I would give private lessons to children at a price of 200 drachmas per hour, instead of 500 drachmas which is the usual. I noticed there were samples of Lower and Proficiency Certificates hanging on the walls. Paradoxically, all those papers were written in Greek. Do they make these papers themselves? I asked myself.

At that moment, the bell rang again and another candidate came in. She said she had no certificate, she had only finished the third class in English, and they didn't seem to like that. "Why, you want a Proficiency Certificate?" she wondered, and so did I: In their advertisement, they didn't ask for such qualifications; they only required "some knowledge of English".

Then, the school owner summoned me to his office. "I like you," he said twice, among other palaver, but I pretended I hadn't heard. Finally, he told me to come back tomorrow, so as to go to a pupil's house together with the Asian teacher and see how private lessons are taught.

As I was leaving, I noticed that next to the door there was a big signboard, reading "English by Labiris". Why I didn't see that before? I wondered but gave it no further consideration.

Friday, 28th September 1984

I can see this is all wrong, probably the whole thing is a fraud, but I'm also afraid of losing a good job opportunity and so are my parents. That's why this morning I went to "English by Labiris" again. Once again, the school owner said he likes me and I acted the fool; then I agreed to go to a pupil's house in New Ionia, together with the Asian teacher.

The bus journey lasted about 50 minutes, and the bloke wouldn't stop playing the expert from England: "When I first came from London to Athens, I wasn't impressed by the Parthenon! I was more impressed by the countless tutorial schools everywhere! There is no serious education, here in Greece!" he said with an air of profundity. I pretended to agree, so as not to displease him and lose the great job. He went on with the verbal diarrhoea, constantly bragging about the super wow education he had had when he was in in England, until he flung in my teeth: "Really now, Yvonne, who do you think you are? You think you are a teacher? There are thousands like you!" I kept my mouth shut, because I hoped to get that envied job.

Finally, the private lesson proved to be a foul play: The fourteen-year-old girl sometimes said it was the first time she had met the Asian teacher, sometimes she acted as if she had known him for years. As about the "super teacher from England", he could hardly read a text and he pronounced the word "door" as "duur". Well, I didn't like the whole performance and I have no intention of working for rascals...

* * * *

Sunday, 30th September 1984

When I returned from the baker's this morning, I found my father talking on the phone in a loud voice. As mum explained full of joy, dad was talking with a Mr Bill Kargas, who had responded to my advertisement about giving private lessons of English. "This is the opportunity we have been waiting for! He wants you for his tutorial school on the island of Samos!" announced mum, exhilarated.

I was taken aback for a second, but I agreed to talk to the bloke on the phone; he seemed to be positive and willing to hire me, he even offered to pay for my plane ticket. He also promised to let me stay in his ancestral house for a small rent. Taking into account that a) my parents and I are convinced that I will never find a permanent job in Athens, b) so far I haven't managed to find any other pupils apart from that girl in Hymettus, c) my parents are looking forward to my earning some money and helping with the house expenses, I didn't turn down the proposal. So, after a lot of wavering, I finally decided to quit my only pupil and set out for Samos the very next day.

Monday, 8th October 1984

Mr Kargas' old house has proved to be a decrepit ruin, so I've been staying in a hotel ever since I arrived in Samos. The fact is that I have almost run out of money and I have to leave the island. As soon as I informed the boss this morning, he got frantic, he took me from the hotel at once and led me to his tutorial school; He will allow me to sleep in a storeroom for a few nights, until I manage to find better lodgings, as he said.

I spend most hours of the day carrying out secretarial duties in the office. The amount of work is terrible, since the school year has just started. Every day I have to go through lots of correspondence, I type endless lists of names, I fill in hundreds of pupils' cards; actually, I organize the whole school for him.

I occasionally watch lessons as a spectator, in order to learn methodology, as Mr Kargas says. It is Wilma, his obese American wife, who teaches most of the times, and she has accustomed the children to a mockery of a lesson: While she is in class, a loud hubbub of shouting and laughter is constantly heard, which is often fomented by the "teacher" herself. She never takes the pupils' notebooks at home; she spends a lot of time correcting compositions and dictations on the spot, losing all control of the class.

This afternoon she wasted half of the lesson making the children act sneezing, according to a story in the reading-book. "A-ti-shu!" the whole class was shouting, for half an hour or more. All pupils, included those of higher classes, know almost nothing about English vocabulary and grammar, they can hardly even read. Nevertheless, Mr Kargas is always praising his wife's teaching skills: "My Wilma has taken many awards for her unique methods," he brags.

It's a mystery, though: The lessons given at the Kargas Tuition Centre are a fiasco, there aren't any Lower or Proficiency classes, yet most parents don't care about this and they prefer his school. His branches in Samos and Pythagorio are the most successful tutorial schools on the island, counting more than 400 pupils...

Thursday, 11th October 1984

This morning Mr Bill and I went to his school in Pythagorio, so as to watch him teaching and get an idea of his wondrous methodologies. During the whole journey, once again I had to put up with his incessant bragging about how perfect he has always been in his job, even when he and his family lived in Congo, from where they had to flee overnight, leaving everything behind, six years ago. He didn't explain why, he only mentioned that his father had gone bankrupt ten times, in contrast to him who has always been very successful.

"I am a hard-working man, I can't stand losing my time; I'm not like your father, who is a lazy pensioner," he concluded, and I was speechless at his insolence.

"Your father is a lazy idler, isn't he?" he said sarcastically.

I pretended I hadn't listened.

"Isn't it so?" he insisted ironically.

"Yes," I replied in a low voice.

"Eeeeh?"

"Yes," I repeated louder, so as to please the boss.

He shut up only when we arrived at his branch in Pythagorio. While he was teaching the third class, I was sitting at the last desk with a typewriter in front of me, typing an endless list of pupils' names during the lesson. So much of a lesson...

On the way back to Samos, the boss suddenly stopped the car in the middle of nowhere and announced we had run out of petrol. After a few minutes of pointless discussion, "what shall we do now, etc", he said that the best thing he could do was go and find a friend of his who lives nearby, so as to borrow some fuel. This means that I had to wait in the car for 20 minutes, all alone at the back of beyond, until he came back with a jerrycan of petrol in hand.

In all probability, the bloke was not at all in need of petrol; he just hoped to get something else from me while he was dragging me into the wilderness...

Monday, 15th October 1984

It's been three days since Mr Kargas first allowed me to teach for a few hours in the afternoons. This means that I have to work more than eight hours per day, taking into account that I still have to carry out lots of secretarial duties. Yet, all I get is ironic remarks: "You don't even know how to talk on the phone! Hellooooo... People will think we are bums!" ... "You are weak-willed, you lack initiative" ... "You have no gumption, and I can't do the thinking for you" and so forth.

All things considered, the podgy little man with the mouse-like face who happens to be my boss, is nothing but a hysterical workaholic clodhopper. He is always swinging around like a whirligig, actually doing nothing but complaining about everything. He often gives me wrong or inadequate instructions regarding the lessons; as a result, I make inevitable mistakes for which he reprimands me later.

This morning, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find my teacher's book. I searched and searched everywhere for hours, nothing! Telling the boss about it was out of the question. The blasting I would get for losing that book, would be unprecedented. So, I preferred to go to a bookstore and buy a new book, with my own money. However, just two minutes before the lesson had started, I found the old coursebook in its usual place in the bookcase. Strange, isn't it?

Wednesday, 17th October 1984

I am beginning to suspect that dear Mr Kargas has set up an "intelligence network" for me, engaging family and friends as his spies: Almost every evening he makes sure that I go out with his twin twelve-year-old daughters who, oddly enough, are mature and polite children. Moreover, a few days ago I first met (by chance?) Rita, a woman of my age, who works as a hair-dresser. We were having lunch in the same restaurant, and it was her who first talked to me. She seems to be a kind and interesting person, and we became friends very quickly.

This evening, while we were going on a walk, we happened to meet Mr Kargas on the road. The two of them started talking joyfully, and it was crystal clear to me that they've known each other for a long time.

Friday, 19th October 1984

Mr Bill himself seldom loses sight of me and he always makes sure to come with me when I search for new lodgings. He says he doesn't want to me to fall a victim to some impostor, and he insists on choosing himself my new house. He also says he is willing to pay for my first rent. The truth is that he does everything he can to sabotage every attempt of mine to find accommodation: Whenever I try to make an arrangement with a landlord, he always chips in and claims that the house I've just found is unsuitable for me for lots of possible or impossible reasons.

Yesterday I managed to find a nice, independent, cheap chamber situated on the roof of a house. This evening I had an appointment with the elderly house owner, and Mr Kargas insisted on coming with me. Soon he started arguing with the landlord, and finally he triggered off a nasty row. As a result, we left empty-handed.

Right after that preposterous incident, Mr Kargas took me to a nearby hotel. The owner proved to be a friend of his. We asked for a cheap room for me – to no avail, of course, all single rooms were occupied. In the end, the hotel owner agreed to accommodate me in the basement for a few days. It is not so bad here, but obviously I can't stay long.

Tuesday, 22nd October 1984

Finally! This morning I managed to find me a furnished room near the city centre! It is sunny and spacious, and the landlady is a polite, calm woman. Mr Kargas didn't manage to draw her into a quarrel, and he made a very sour face when he paid 5000 drachmas for my first rent, as he had promised.

I was greatly surprised, when the Kargases invited me out tonight. It was late in the evening when we all got in their car, with a view of going to a taverna in Pythagorio. We arrived there but we didn't stop, as I had expected; the head of the family kept on driving until we were out of the town.

After a while he turned back and drove through Pythagorio again; then, he took the way back to Samos, and finally he stopped outside an abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere. As the boss explained, the old house belonged to Moira, an old family friend who had followed them from Congo and helped them set up the tutorial school in Samos. "However, Moira left the island years ago," concluded Mr Kargas with a smirk.

I was really flabbergasted when they all agreed to wait outside the big rusty street door for a while, in case their old friend made a miraculous appearance in the weedy garden! So, we all stayed inside the parked car and waited. The time was already 00:30 after midnight. Twenty minutes later, Moira's ghost hadn't deigned to appear yet; Mr Kargas feigned disappointment and he said we had better go.

Thursday, 25th October 1984

While I was getting ready to start my lesson this afternoon, the boss informed me that this time I would have to begin half an hour earlier than usual. Yet, I was given to understand that I would finish at the usual time; nor did he come and stop me tactfully when I exceeded the expected teaching time.

When I finally finished, he was mad at me because some parents had phoned again and again, very worried about the half-hour delay of their children, as he said. Then he burst out shouting that I am a discredit to his school, that all pupils complain about my strictness, that I am completely spineless and unable to achieve anything in life because I am nothing but a loser. In the end, he demanded that I should resign at once, before I destroy his good reputation on the island.

Friday, 26th October 1984

Mr Kargas was more than willing to repeat all the above to my mother, who arrived in Samos this morning so as to bring me some needful things. "Pity! We wanted to hug her as if she were our own child!" he concluded and made a characteristic gesture of embrace, which surprised both my mother and me.

He, my mother and I had met in the main square of the city a few hours before: Mum was taken aback when she first saw the sweaty, flushed up, frantic, stumpy man, who was running here and there in the heat of the noon, as if he were out of his mind.

"I'm always on the run, what can I do? I'm awfully busy with the school all day, but what can I do? Send pupils away?" he broke out, in a hysterical condition, and then he ran away as if chased by hound dogs.

"This man is a neurasthenic! Didn't your father realize that when he talked on the phone with the lunatic?" mum wondered.

Saturday, 27th October 1984

The end of the story: Mr Kargas refused to pay me for one whole month I have been working for him night and day. He gave me nothing, not even one drachma, because, as he claimed, he has already paid a lot of money for my expenses in Samos! Of course, the enrollment period is over now, I have organized the whole school for this year, and he doesn't need me anymore.

So here I am, on the ship to Athens, together with my mother, the TV set and some other things she had brought me, since we all thought I would stay on the island for eight more months. I'm standing at the stern of the ship, which has just departed, and I am experiencing untold relief as I'm slowly leaving the port, the city, the island, further and further behind.

Another horrible adventure of mine has finally reached an end. I can hardly believe I have just escaped from a nightmare, for a second time in a year...

Chapter 17: Apprenticeship

So, I am back home again, right on time to enroll in the State School of Tourism in Saronis, after my success in the entrance examinations of June. I am one of the best students in class, I can't say that I have any problem with the school or the people here, yet I can't avoid certain familiar situations: Once again I feel alienated; I really wish to approach the other students, but it just proves to be impossible. Most of the times it is as if I bumped against an invisible wall of ice. I usually keep company with the three most boring girls in the class, who call me Nonny (how dull!). As about the boys, the only one who shows an interest in me is Dennis, a greenhorn with a big head and a plump body, who likes to call me "Bonn" and when I get angry he wonders why...

Wednesday, 27th March 1985

My class is on a five-day trip on the island of Rhodes. We have been here for three days now. At first I was in no mood for something like that, and Ι decided to take part at the last moment. I'm having a wonderful time here, even if I feel left out sometimes. In the mornings we go for walks in the city of Rhodes or we visit big hotels. In the evenings we have fun in glamorous clubs and pubs with live music. We have also visited many interesting sights such as the Acropolis of Lindos, the Medicinal Baths of Kallithea, the Seven Springs, the Valley of Butterflies etc.

This afternoon we happened to find a football and we decided to play on a prairie near Filerimos. I have never liked this game but I tried to do my best; I even managed to intercept a tall player of the rival team once.

However, soon it proved to be too difficult for me to get the ball, to go after a rival player, to dribble and all that. Strangely enough, all the other girls could play better than me. "Is Yvonne with us?" joked Mr Golfis, our teacher, every now and then. Soon nobody made a pass to me, and after some boring minutes I preferred to withdraw without saying a word to anybody. Anyway, in all likelihood obody noticed my absence.

... I took a narrow, stone path which went up a green hillside; all around me there were tall trees in leaf, small sunny glades, wild flowers in bloom, no people; just blissful serenity under a blue sky and a bright sun. My classmates seemed to be millions of miles away. I had a strange feeling, as if there was no other human being on earth. I walked all the way up the hill, all alone in that isolated green paradise. Spontaneously I let myself unwind, all worries faded away, any sense of time was lost. For the first time in my life I was feeling complete, balanced, happy, alive. I was one with the thriving, unspoilt nature that surrounded me. Everything looked shiny and vibrant, from the tallest tree to the weakest grass blade; it was as if an esoteric truth was being conveyed to me from the whole world – a truth I could not put in words, but it filled my soul with an unprecedented sense of nirvana. The most outstanding experience of my whole life...

When I reached the end of the path, in front of the wooden gate of a Frankish monastery, I took the way back almost mechanically. I started walking down slowly, unwillingly, pausing every now and then, silently bidding farewell to every leaf, every flower, every shadow, leaving behind one by one the pieces of that secret paradise.

Suddenly I heard people talking behind me, which annoyed me a lot. An aged couple had just come out of the monastery and they were already walking down the path, getting closer and closer to me. Their loud voices and footfalls destroyed all the magic. I accelerated my pace, so as to get away from them. "Reality" was calling me back peremptorily, and I could do nothing but obey...

Friday, 17th May 1985

This morning we brought home my baby nephew, who will be named Yanni. He is my sister's first child and he is only six days old. Four days ago, when we first saw him in the maternity clinic, he was a hairy, flushed up, wrinkled little thing, cute but ugly. He looks a lot better now: He is beautiful, sweet and funny; he has rosy cheeks, sad eyes, and bad hiccups. My sister has been holding him in her lap for an hour or so, and she is sad and worried because she doesn't know what to do to make him stop.

As about the boy's parents, they are still a rather adventurous couple: Antony is still crude and violent, he always shouts and beats up Alice over a trifle. He has a permanent job as a carpenter's assistant but he spends all his money in extravagant hobbies: scuba diving, boats, fishing equipment and that sort of thing. Every time (that is quite often) we hear screams coming from upstairs, my parents run to my sister's apartment, so as to prevent Antony from thrashing the life out of Alice. Moreover, they often help the couple financially.

My sister is whining all the time but she actually likes the whole situation because she is madly in love with Antony. She thinks that smacks are a proof of love and the more she gets beaten up the more she feels like a diva. She looks down on me because I don't have a boyfriend, and she often accuses my parents of interfering with her family affairs; however, she enjoys bleeding them for lots of money time after time...

Wednesday, 22nd May 1985

In the meanwhile, a new problem has come into my life and it's driving me crazy: The fat, illiterate, boorish tenant who has rented our ground floor is in the habit of playing the shepherd's flute, three notes all the time, always out in the yard so that the whole neighbourhood can admire him. He plays non-stop from 3:00 o'clock in the afternoon, when he returns from work, to 1:00 after midnight! At weekends, when he doesn't work, he plays from 7:00 in the morning to 1:00 after midnight, without a break! This means that we are obliged to hear that nerve-racking noise for 10-18 hours every day! It is impossible for me to get any peace, day or night!

At 3:30 this afternoon, after having suffered that horrible noise pollution since 7:00 in the morning, I finally flew off the handle and burst out shouting:

"I've had enough with that boor downstairs, he does nothing all day but play that awful flute! We can't have a moment's quiet!"

"Sssst! He will hear you!" said my mother.

Next moment, the boor disappeared into the house. Better late than never...

Monday, 27th May 1985

The results of the final exams in the State School of Tourism have just come out. I am fourth in the list of best grades, which means I will be the fourth to select the hotel where I will serve my apprenticeship during the summer. I am very happy about it because, in all probability, I will have the opportunity to choose the hotel Galactic, where my school belongs. I will be feeling secure and comfortable there, since I already know the people and the environment.

This morning, just a few minutes before we had entered the class, I was accosted by Mary, a vamp classmate, who during the whole school year hadn't even said "hello" to me. Accompanied by a large group of her friends, she explained to me that she wished to do her practice at the hotel Carmen, which is in Patissia, near her house. The problem is that she is very low in the list of grades, so she isn't likely to have the chance of choosing that hotel:

"I will be obliged to come to Galactic, which is too far for me. If they send me here, I won't serve my apprenticeship, and I won't take my diploma" she said sadly.

"Won't you be able to take the hotel coach, as usual?" I wondered.

"There is no coach during the summer months and I can't stand the heat in the buses," she answered with a frown.

Then, one of her friends started explaining to me a traditional trick done on this occasion every year: "When your turn comes, you will choose the hotel Carmen, and Mary will choose Galactic..."

"How can we be sure that Mary will be able to choose Galactic? What if someone else wants it first?" I asked.

"Oh, don't worry, no one wants to come here!" answered another one. "Now listen: When the selection procedure is over, you will raise your hand and say that you have changed your mind and that you want to exchange hotels with another person. Mary will answer to your proposal, and both of you will finally get what you really want!"

"What if the teachers refuse to let us exchange?"

"Don't be afraid, they have never refused, there is no such risk!" they all reassured me.

Just as expected, when the selection procedure was over, one of the three teachers asked the class: "Does anyone of you wish to add something?"

About fifteen pupils raised their hands, but the teachers asked me to speak first.

"I have just changed my mind; I wish to exchange the hotel Carmen for Galactic," I said.

Mary, who had chosen Galactic, raised her hand and agreed to my proposal. So far so good.

"Oh, the same story," said the teacher smiling. She turned and whispered something to the colleague standing next to her, and then she answered to me:

"I understand you are doing this so as to help your classmate, but it isn't right to sacrifice yourself for others. For this reason, we won't accept the exchange!"

I could hardly believe my ears.

"But... Mary can't come here, all the way from Patissia to Saronis, in the heat of the summer! If you don't accept the exchange, Mary won't do her practice in any hotel! Besides, I actually want to serve my apprenticeship here, at the hotel Galactic!" I protested, to no avail of course.

Needless to say, after that incident none of the other pupils dared ask an exchange.

Thursday, 20th June 1985

Since the beginning of this month I have been serving my apprenticeship as an assistant receptionist at the hotel Carmen. It is a beautiful, luxurious hotel, and the people are kind and friendly. However, it is very far from my home and commuting takes me about four hours every day. At least, these four months of apprenticeship will give me some working experience which will help me find a proper job later, I suppose.

Unfortunately, every day I have to put up with Zeta, an arrogant and disagreeable colleague who used to be my classmate at the School of Tourism. Quite unexpectedly, she has come to do her practice at the hotel Carmen too, even if she wasn't really entitled to it: Having done really bad in the final exams, she should have ended up on some island. However, she was finally admitted here because, as she boasts with an air of importance, she often goes out with Mr Makris, a sixty-year-old teacher at the School of Tourism.

Anyway, she doesn't seem to appreciate the post she has been given: This morning, when I told her that I like it here and that I would like to be hired as a permanent employee, she let herself go almost angry:

"I certainly don't intend to spend all my life in a hotel reception! I am not a mollycoddle, I want a job with action and prospects!"

"So, what are you doing here?" I wondered.

"I am here for the experience only!" she replied pompously.

"And you will waste four months of your life for an experience that doesn't really matter to you?"

"Yes, but I won't stop here! I'm not a sleepyhead like you, I want an adventurous job!"

"Such as?"

"I am going to be a tourist guide one day!"

"So, we are talking about great adventure!" I couldn't help mocking.

Right then, the chief receptionist came and assigned us with certain tasks: I entered some customers' charges on the computer and Zeta did some filing. Fortunately, the discussion was interrupted at the right moment, for I had no idea how it would end...

Thursday, 27th June 1985

It is getting more and more obvious to me that some people here don't like me. This is probably due to the fact that Zeta is constantly slandering me to everybody. Strangely enough, they all believe what she says and they are always on her side. As about me, I do my best every day at work, I am always polite, willing and efficient, but nobody seems to be impressed.

On the other hand, it's true that sometimes I don't know where I stand: When there is no work to do, I have to show that I am occupied with something, otherwise they will grumble that I'm lazy. When I really have work to do, they often complain I get in their way.

"What will the hotel owner say, if he happens to see you checking out a customer? So, let us be and do some filing!" I was reprimanded today by Kelly, one of the receptionists, who is not so friendly as she usually wants to show. Doesn't the big boss know that the hotel hires pupils from the School of Tourism during the summer? I wondered but said nothing, because I didn't want tempers to become frayed.

Sunday, 14th July 1985

Since there was not much work to be done at the reception this morning, a colleague asked me to do some filing. A few minutes later I was accosted by the personnel manager, a wayward guy who is always ready for a row. "Why are you doing here? This isn't your job!" he snapped out and snatched the customers' cards from my hands. I tried to contain myself but it was too hard. I burst into tears and ran to the toilet immediately, lest anyone should see me crying. However, when I got there, a chambermaid saw me tearing and she considered it good to preach me a sermon: "Woe is you if they find out how sensitive you are! They will make your life miserable!" she told me. That didn't comfort me at all, but I could see she was right.

From that moment on, a tormenting fear started to wring my heart, especially during working hours. I was constantly frightened at the thought that something would go wrong, that the others might form a negative opinion of me or, even worse, that my sensitivity would be known and everybody in the hotel would turn against me. It took me about a week to control myself, calm down and get rid of that phobia.

Monday, 29th July 1985

That weirdie of Zeta never stops trying to be clever, or criticizing me for everything. I can't stand her anymore. This morning, once again she started bragging about her great achievements: "When I finished high school, nine years ago, I left my family for good. They live in Edessa, and I haven't seen them ever since. I'm not like some mollycoddles, who never get any further than their mother's skirt!" (that was a hint about me: not only do I keep contact with my parents, but I also live with them) ... "You go to bed at midnight? So early? What a milksop you are! I stay up and watch TV till three or four o'clock in the morning!" (admire me, I am a neurasthenic!) ... "You go swimming at the beach of Voula? That's only a ten-minute ride from your home!" (what a shame!) ... "I'm going to succeed in life, my ambitions soar high; not like you, who will always be a lowly-paid employee!" she burst out finally.

Alright, she was asking for it. I took a deep breath and started talking: "Obviously, you think you are my superior here; let me remind you that in this hotel you and I are exactly in the same position! And you are five years older than me!" That left her speechless for a while...

Tuesday, 20th August 1985

All day today Zeta kept on criticizing the way I dress: "Why do you always wear such clothes? Have you seen anyone else dress like you?"

"Of course I have! All women dress like me!" I snapped out. I usually wear dresses, or a blouse with a skirt or trousers. So? What's so bad about the way I dress? I wondered, rather irritated.

At that moment Kelly approached us with an enigmatic smile on her face; I didn't like that, because she always agrees with Zeta. The two of them walked away together, and talked in low voices for a few minutes; then they approached me again and installed themselves on my desk, in a most ostentatious manner. Next moment they started describing certain pieces of clothing they had, so as to excite my envy -they are crazy! That ridiculous bragging lasted about a quarter of an hour. I pretended I wasn't listening, as I was doing some paper work at that time...

Chapter 18: Running on Empty Again

Saturday, 23rd November 1985

It's two months now that I have been out of work. At the end of September all apprentices from the School of Tourism were fired from the hotel Carmen, me included. In overall, I can't say I had a bad time there, especially in comparison with the horrible experience of Samos. I have been looking for another job ever since, but I haven't found anything yet.

Aunt Penelope paid us a visit this morning. We were having a pleasant conversation about summer holidays, when suddenly she changed the subject:

"So, you don't work in the hotel Carmen anymore..."

"No, I don't; all apprentices were fired two months ago"

"Pity... Anyway, I've been informed that all those who served their apprenticeship in the hotel Galactic are still there, hired as permanent employees; and they've kept a beautiful, agreeable girl at the reception," she said smiling. I was very disappointed at the news, but I didn't say anything; I only wondered: How does my aunt know all this?

Monday, 2nd December 1985

This morning I went to apply for a job in a big travel agency in Athens. They are looking for an office employee with good knowledge of English and German. I was optimistic about this job, because I also have the diploma from the School of Tourism.

Yet, soon my enthusiasm started to wane: Firstly, the personnel manager made me wait outside his office for an hour, although he wasn't doing any work. When he finally summoned me to his office, he seemed to be positive towards me – although he minced his words regarding the working hours: "This is a full time job, eight to ten hours per day" ("eight to ten hours" means "endless hours") ... "We offer the basic salary and we don't pay overtime" ... "This is hard work, it demands intelligence and eloquence" etc.

I kept saying "yes" to everything, lest I should lose the ideal job.

"One of your duties will be to welcome tourists who come from abroad," he went on.

I liked that, because I thought I would be doing this during my working hours.

"So, you must always be ready to receive a phone call telling you to go to the airport or the seaport, receive a group of tourists and take them to their hotel!"

"No problem!" I was beforehand in answering.

"This may happen any time, but it usually happens at night! For example, we might phone you at 3:00 am and tell you that you must be at the airport in an hour!

After the first shock, I dared ask: "You mean, after having worked ten hours in the office, I will have to scour airports and harbours in the middle of the night, looking for certain groups of tourists?"

"Exactly, this is how we work here!"

"But I don't even have a car..."

I can't remember what was said afterwards; I was only looking forward to getting out of there as soon as possible.

Sunday, 8th December 1985

This evening we had an unexpected phone call: It was Mrs Daphne, an old friend of my mother, who hasn't shown up for seventeen years. "I am the one who must make the first step to revive the old friendship," she said slowly, as soon as my mum picked up the receiver. After a few moments of surprise, the two women talked calmly for a while, they made it up again, and Mrs Daphne ended up: "Yvonne will help Persephone with her homework, too!"

My mother didn't bear any objections to that, neither did I; anyway, I have plenty of time and no friends. So, we arranged for the eleven-year-old Persephone, Mrs Daphne's daughter, to visit me two or three times a week. She is in the sixth class of elementary school and she needs help with maths, physics and Greek language.

Tuesday, 28th January 1986

As months go by, I keep on searching high and low for any job. I have been to hundreds of companies, applying for any post, even that of a factory worker. However, no employer has been willing to hire me so far, despite my new qualifications: The diploma from the State School of Tourism, my four-month practice as an assistant receptionist in the hotel Carmen, my good knowledge of typing, plus my fluent Italian, English and German. The main problem is that in a society where backstairs influence is everything, my family is the only one which can pull no strings at all.

This morning I had a reason to believe that the miracle would happen: My father took me to a big company in Marousi (a four-hour commuting), where an old friend of his works as a manager. "I will talk to him about you; maybe he will hire you as a secretary," dad explained to me and I started to hope.

During their conversation, dad was all joy and smiles, but he didn't utter a word about me. Finally, five minutes before our leaving, he let drop the brick: "If possible, I would like my daughter to come here and help you, even without being paid! All I want, is that she gains some working experience! She can type fast, she can speak English, Italian and German...". The manager agreed smiling, but I froze. Anyway, I will never be hired in that company, not even unpaid. Fortunately...

Friday, 31st January 1986

This evening Persephone came round and I helped her do her maths and physics homework. It took us about two hours. When we finished, we talked about various subjects such as show business, school, and social problems -as usual. I am really impressed at Persephone's maturity and cleverness. She is an agreeable person, with long blond hair and big blue eyes. If she weren't so obese, she would be very beautiful. Of course, I don't care about her looks. I have a good time with her, I think we are ideologically compatible, and she thinks so too. "I like chatting with Yvonne," she says to her mother. Sometimes I get tired because her homework takes us hours, but at least I have a friend now...

Wednesday, 5th February 1986

In response to an advertisement in the newspaper, regarding a vacancy for a typist, this morning I went to an office in Athens, which sends and receives telexes for other companies. It proved to be a poky, frowsty room without windows, full of big telex machines, piles of books and lots of dust. The boss was a plump, grim-looking, smarmy man, whom I didn't like at all. He gave me a minute examination in typing, English and Italian, he made many personal questions, he even asked me how often I get sick! The only thing he didn't examine was my knowledge of German, because he doesn't know this language. As he told me, he needs an employee because his permanent secretary is on a monthly leave of absence. This means that if he hires me, he will keep me for one month only. However, I wasn't daunted; even one month of working experience is better than nothing.

Friday, 7th February 1986

The bloke with the telexes called me this morning and told me to come to his office immediately. I was very happy because I thought he wanted me to start working at once. However, when I got there, I found out he was not alone: He was in the company of a middle-aged lady who proved to be German and started talking to me in German. I was a little embarrassed because I didn't expect an oral test, but I think I did quite well. "I will call you soon," said the boss finally, but I know that he never will.

The fact is that relatives and neighbours have begun to wonder about my continuing failure in finding a job: "Such bad luck with work! Could it be Yvonne's fault?" wondered aunt Penelope this afternoon, when I told her about my recent adventures...

* * * *

Monday, 17th February 1986

Some days ago a new hope for employment appeared unexpectedly: One of my father's friends has a nephew, who is a successful accountant with lots of public relations and he will certainly find a post for me, as he said.

This afternoon, at about 4:00 o'clock, that great nephew phoned me at last. He introduced himself as Mr Demis Dragonas and he told me to take a taxi at once and come to the hotel Lyra in Vouliagmeni. He said he would be waiting for me there till 4:30, and he insinuated I would be hired immediately as a restaurant cashier.

Twenty minutes later I arrived at the accounts department of the hotel Lyra, beaming with optimism. However, it didn't take me long to understand that Mr Dragonas didn't think very highly of me: "So, you only have a Certificate of Proficiency in English? Haven't you studied abroad?" ... "Besides, your diploma from the State School of Tourism is not a university degree" ... "Moreover, you have no working experience" ... "This job requires a lot of sprightliness, I'm not sure if you can do it; of course, I don't know how high your intelligence quotient is" etc, etc, etc...

Monday, 3rd March 1986

I had almost forgot the above case until today, when I received an unexpected phone call at 2:00 pm: I jumped for joy when I heard it was Mr Dragonas, asking me to take a taxi at once and come to his office in New Faliron, because he was in urgent need of an assistant in the exports department! I set out without a second of delay.

Right from the first moment, the mouse-faced Mr Dragonas and his scarlet wife, Lisa, showed their nasty characters: "You must know, Yvonne, that every move you make will be watched! Even how you hold the pen, shows who you are!" ... "You must always do exactly what you are told; as soon as you make the first mistake, you will be fired on the spot!" ... "You have a lot to learn here! For the first six months you will be an apprentice, so you will only get a symbolic salary!" ... "And remember: There is a lot of unemployment out there!". Not only did I say "yes" to everything, but I also felt extremely lucky that I had found a job at last...

Friday, 21st March 1986

Ever since I got hired by Mr Dragonas, I have been striving to meet the incredible demands of my job, as I am responsible not only for exports but for all kinds of errands as well. Every evening I return home exhausted and every morning I wake up tired, feeling that I haven't rested enough. Frankly, I don't know how I manage to pull through all that work, day in day out.

From 8:00 am to 2:00 pm I do office work or, most of the times, I run to all public services in the basin of Attiki so as to transact various bureaucratic formalities. Sometimes the boss gives me wrong instructions, so I toil in vain and then he gets mad at me. From 2:00 to 7:00 pm I run to various clients all around Attiki, to give or take documents. I usually arrive home at 9:00 in the evening, exhausted and exasperated.

More often than not, I have to wait in endless queues for hours. Again I get a blasting because, as they tell me, I'm not capable of getting the job done "cleverly", that is out of turn: "It's time you learned how to move in those places! If you had gumption, you wouldn't get stuck in queues!" yelled Demis this morning because, according to him, I had wasted too much time in the Tax Office.

As about Lisa, she spends all the working hours painting her nails, fixing her make up and admiring herself in her mirror. She is quite attractive, 20 years younger than her husband, and madly in love with his money. It is her younger cousin, Mina, who carries through all the work and treats me more humanely. Without her, there would be no job done correctly in this office...

Tuesday, 15th April 1986

I'm sick and tired of this all: During all those endless hours I spend in the office, I am obliged to put up with all kinds of humiliating remarks, ironic comments or direct insults that often reach the limits of terrorism.

This morning I happened to make a wrong photocopy and the big boss flew off the handle: "I just can't believe it! You aren't capable of doing even the simplest job right! Do me a favour, Mina," he turned to his sister-in-law, "You go and make the correct photocopy, otherwise we won't get that job done!" Then he turned to me again and groaned: "Listen well: This is the first and the last time I have tolerated a mistake from you! At the second mistake you are out of here! Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I stammered.

"And keep in mind: If you can't cope with this job, you will never be able to cope with any other job!"

Monday, 21st April 1986

This morning Mr Dragonas arrived at the office at ten o'clock. He was all nerves, as usual, and he ordered me to bring him some coffee at once. "Stir it!" he shouted as soon as I left the cup in front of him. I obeyed with trembling hands. "Again!" he yelled and I obeyed again.

An hour later, the big boss interrupted me from drawing up a client's balance (paradoxically, credit never equals debit in these balances; yet those great accountants I work for consider this normal) and summoned me to his office. Soon it became clear that all he wanted was to lecture me about productivity:

"All employees must be equally good and always excel in their work! A company is like a barrel full of wine: What happens, Yvonne, if any hoop is damaged?" he asked me with a cunning smile.

"All the wine will be spilled," I replied in a low voice, like a schoolgirl saying the lesson to a strict teacher.

"Correct! That's why you should work even harder, so as not to be detrimental to our company!" he concluded triumphantly.

"Yes... yes, sir!" I could only stutter.

Anyway, now that I'm thinking better about it, I can see that if a "hoop" is damaged, not all the "wine" is always spilled. It depends on how high the damaged hoop is: If it is near the top, almost no wine will be wasted; however, if the bad hoop is low, then most of the wine will be wasted. Conclusion: It is the lower employees who actually run the companies. The higher ones are mostly decorative...

Tuesday, 6th May 1986

After nine hours of exhausting work in and out of the office, Mr Dragonas ordered me not to leave but wait for him until he finished some phone calls. I waited for more than an hour and then he kept me standing in his office for one more hour, bombarding me with all kinds of complaints: "You are not as hardworking as you should be" ... "You don't take any initiatives" ... "You are not sprightly enough" ... "You are not quick on the uptake" etc.

When I protested that I work incessantly all day, always doing my best, he answered disdainfully: "This is not enough! What you have been doing for us up to now is only a drop in the ocean, in comparison with what you should be doing! And don't forget! There is a lot of unemployment out there! I want you to promise me that from now on you will be working harder and faster!"

"I will, sir" I replied.

If I had disagreed to anything, he would have never let me go home.

Wednesday, 7th May 1986

Obviously, all that performance had only one purpose: to terrorize me, and it did: This morning I was feeling frightened just at the thought of going to the office.

"As soon as you came in, her blood ran cold!" I heard Lisa telling him.

"No kidding! She was scared stiff!" agreed the dragon malignantly.

The only thing that made me feel a little better, was the fact that a little later Demis called his wife in his office and hauled her over the coals! Only that she wasn't so submissive as I was: "If you don't like the way I work, you had better hire a qualified accountant! One who will ask for a salary!" she retorted, which made him shut up for a while.

Friday, 9th May 1986

This is the last day for the submission of tax returns. From now on there won't be so much work to do, so I might calm down a little. So, I was unpleasantly surprised when Mr Dragonas summoned me to his office late in the afternoon, as I was getting ready to leave. Here comes another blowing-up, I feared. However, as soon as I got into his office, Demis started praising my qualifications and my efficiency, only to conclude that he was "unfortunately" obliged to fire me on the spot because he could no longer afford my tidy salary, which till then I had no idea how high (or low) it was.

Anyway, I can't say I wasn't expecting it at all: For days now I've suspected that Lisa wishes to take my position. It was only yesterday when I heard her say that she is usually in charge of the exports department and that she prefers running on errands to spending her hours in the office. Nevertheless, she certainly wouldn't fancy running here and there like crazy during the peak season (from the beginning of March till today), when there is so much frenzy with the tax returns. For that hectic period they hired me to pull the chestnuts from the fire.

Finally, I got half of the basic salary as a reward for my services. Not so bad; I thought that the "symbolic salary" would be much lower. It goes without saying that I got no stamps at all. In the end, Demis assured me that he was very pleased with me and that if he ever needed an assistant in the future, he would hire no one else but me.

Monday, 9th June 1986

Miracles do happen: A week ago I finally managed to find a part time job (two days a week, three hours each time) as a correspondent in the company "Kyriakides Bros SA", which imports auto spare parts from Italy.

For a couple of days I kept on looking for something better, but this morning I got a revolutionary idea: Quit searching for a full time job and make do with my part time job and the housework, which takes me hours every day. Frankly, I'm sick and tired of looking for work in the classified ads, begging the bosses to hire me as an underpaid slave. Besides, there is no real financial need, since my father gets a good pension as a retired captain and my personal expenses are pretty limited: I neither demand flashy clothes, nor go out to cafeterias, discos, clubs etc. As about stamps, I'll think about what I can do about it. In any case, there is no lack of money in our home. So, why worry? Anyway, what will be will be. As soon as I came up with that wonderful idea, I started feeling a lot better...

* * * *

Monday, 16th June 1986

Last Friday I bought a newspaper on the spur of the moment. When I got home, I had a quick look at the classified ads and I immediately noticed the following advertisement: "Secretary needed urgently by an import company in New Smyrna. Candidates must be fast in typing and fluent in Italian and English. No working experience required".

The phrase "no working experience required" was what made me answer to the above advertisement. I went there for an interview right away and despite my initial pessimism the boss, a polite man who introduced himself as Mr Lucas Zafirakis, finally agreed to hire me full time, starting from today! He offers the basic salary and stamps – I'm talking about luxury! I can hardly believe it!

The company is called Vinomec and imports wining machinery from Italy. I managed to get the position of secretary because I was the only candidate able and willing to listen to a text in Greek and simultaneously type it in English or Italian. According to the boss, all the other girls he had seen, most of them with university degrees from England or Italy, had either messed up everything or refused to do such a demanding test.

December 1986

The first months at work rolled on smoothly, without serious problems; those started to appear later. In general, Mr Zafirakis is a quiet and good-hearted person, but my job is extremely demanding: Apart from a typist and a telephone operator, I am also in charge of imports and I sub for the boss when he is absent. Besides, I am always under the watchful eye of Mrs Stasa: She is Lucas' mother-in-law, who first appeared in the office the same day I was hired – obviously to keep a discreet watch on me.

The job requires a great sense of responsibility, careful manipulations, risky initiatives and specialized knowledge not only of imports but of wine machinery as well. I'm not complaining though; I actually like this job because it is interesting and challenging. Moreover, I get a regular salary, stamps and social security -things once I couldn't even dream of.

December 1987

As time goes by, the boss becomes more and more demanding. While he is in the office, he never stops grumbling about my efficiency at work; when he is absent, that is often, I have to untangle the most complicated problems without any guidance.

Very often I find myself in the middle of uncontrollable situations with wayward customers and nonfunctional public services. If someone in Italy sends a fax too late, I am to blame. If I press them to send that fax, I am still to blame for getting obtrusive. Moreover, I often have to work overtime without getting any extra payment.

In the meanwhile, my friendship with Persephone is getting stronger and stronger. We meet two or three times a week and we chat about everything. Sometimes she is too exigent in her homework and she gets on my nerves. Yet, I always turn a blind eye, maybe because: "Yvonne should be in other circles now, but since she isn't, she may go out with Persa," as Mrs Daphne said to my mother the other day.

The last time I visited Persephone, she had unexpected visitors: It was Mary, an eleven-year-old cousin of hers. The three of us talked pleasantly and listened to pop music for a few hours. At a moment, when the girl found out my age, she exclaimed in surprise:

"You should be with a fiancé now, not here with Persa!"

I didn't say anything but deep inside I was agitated by the girl's spontaneous comment -for I knew she was right...

Chapter 19: Days of Hope

Friday, 1st January 1988

Starting from today, I'll be keeping a regular diary so as to determine how full (or empty) my life is. Years pass by faster and faster, time seems to be slipping through my fingers, while I remain hopelessly stagnant. I seldom have anything to say to friends (of my sister), when the others can narrate lots of adventures. Apart from that, I feel oppressed by my home environment and I want to go away. Surely, I don't intend to grow old together with my parents.

For the time being, I have reasons to hope that my greatest dream will eventually come true: Ever since I was an adolescent, I have always wished to become a famous writer and the dream seems to be on the way to materialization now: Thanks to Chryssa, a cousin of mine who works in a big printing-office in Athens, my fantasy novel "The Conspiracy of Shadows" is in the hands of Mary Bonanos, chief editor of the publishing house Alba Nova.

Mary herself called me the other day, she assured me that my book is very good and that it has been approved by the renowned publisher Varnalis, who is the owner of Alba Nova! Since that day I have been waiting for her news about the publishing process. In the meanwhile, I have also started writing a second fantasy novel, titled "Age of Nemesis".

Monday, 4th January 1988

This is the first day at work after Christmas vacations and I am bored to death. All those freakish cases on my hands again! On the other side, work is a fine way to forget how hard and thankless life really is...

I spent the whole morning typing contracts and pre-invoices for the Dimoulas Wine Factory, although Mr Zafirakis doesn't hope to do this deal. Moreover, we were informed that the customer's factory caught fire on New Year's Day. "When it was raining luck, I was holding an umbrella" said Lucas bitterly. Finally, however, Mr Dimoulas called and confirmed his order.

When I arrived home at about seven in the evening, I found there Mrs Daphne and Persephone waiting for me. They gave me a pair of plastic earrings as a gift; not anything expensive, but it's the thought that counts. Anyway, Persa is the only person I know, who doesn't resent a meeting with me – even though sometimes I look down on her because she is eleven years younger than me...

Wednesday, 6th January 1988

It's Epiphany today, and I expect it to be a rather boring holiday. The weather is painfully sunny, which makes me feel even worse, since there is no one to invite me to an outing. Moment by moment, I feel more and more depressed.

In the afternoon I got out and walked along the streets alone; anyway, there are no other entertainment alternatives for me. Moreover, nobody visited us today. As years go by, our house reminds me of a cemetery and I am trapped in it.

The highlight of the day: My father was absent for about three hours, I was left alone with my mother and we started a long conversation regarding the subject I hate most of all, which is my social isolation. This is all my fault, because I'm too frigid and I don't allow the others to approach me, says mum. She got on my nerves, I was distressed, I yelled at her and then I went to my room. I wanted to listen to some music so as to calm down, but mum rushed in furiously and shouted at me that I am a curmudgeon because I like sitting on a chair and listening to music...

Friday, 8th January 1988

I was working for Kyriakides this afternoon, when Zafirakis called and asked to speak to me. He was in a frantic condition and needed me to help him draw up a fax in Italian, because once again that jerk of Dimoulas had refused to sign the contract and he had demanded even more ridiculous terms of payment. I dictated via telephone the text for the Italian house "Tafel", Lucas acknowledged my due and the colleague standing next to me was impressed by my knowledge of Italian. So, it all boils down to this: I yearn for acknowledgment, it is great to be number one and admired by everybody. All the rest is cheap talk...

Saturday, 9th January 1988

Since I started working full time, I have been following a more "normal", though tiresome routine: home – work – home! I also go to the gym two or three times a week, where I do body building.

I have also started to paint portraits of famous actors, actresses and singers, using pencil colours and markers. The result is better than I had expected.

As for the rest, there has been a rift between my parents and the Markakis family: Always claiming that my parents interfere in their family affairs, three months ago the couple decided to leave my sister's apartment and move to an outhouse in Argyroupolis. At least once a week, my mother and I visit Alice and help her with the housework, while she acts the diva.

So, like every Saturday morning, mum and I visited Alice and helped her with the household chores today. Mum cleaned the kitchen and I babysat little Yanni. I took him in my lap and he told me that he would like to go to school and that he wants to marry Helen, his peer cousin. When I asked him "Do you want to be my husband?" he answered "I am your husband!". Isn't he sweet?

In the afternoon aunt Pauline came over, together with uncle Alex, who is an air force officer. We had a heated discussion regarding the possibility of my getting a job in some public service. Uncle Alex warned me that in such places only informers and idlers prevail: "Where I work, if someone is conscientious they kick him out!" he said. In two words, I wouldn't stand a chance of surviving in there.

No, I won't apply for a position in any public service, as I initially intended to. Isn't my present job just fine? The people are nice there, they respect me and they appreciate what I do for the company. I don't think I can find a better working environment.

Tuesday, 12th January 1988

Another meaningless day in my life. Nothing exciting ever happens and maybe it's better this way. Let's not rush things. "Stay calm, do nothing. Spring comes, the grass grows by itself" (Zen philosophy).

The only extraordinary thing I did today was body building. There is a small problem, though: When I go to the gym, I see many handsome men there, but the only one who has noticed that I exist is a middle-aged, fat, paunchy, bald cretin, who never takes his eyes off me. Whatever I do, there he is, standing next to me, smiling foolishly! Only such idiots like me, I want to kill myself!

Friday, 15th January 1988

Another hectic day at work. I spent countless hours typing stupidities on the computer. Once again I had to stay overtime, till 7:00 in the evening, because that lunatic of Dimoulas wanted to change the terms of payment, for the umpteenth time, although he has already signed the contract. This is getting ridiculous!

When I finally returned home, I found there Persa waiting for me. She asked me to paint a picture of eggs and chickens, which she will present as her own work at the lesson of Art. Then we exchanged books and I gave her an empty cassette, so that she can record some pop and rock songs for me.

Sunday, 17th January 1988

When I woke up this morning, I expected nothing but another boring day. However, a few hours later my parents and I were heading for Anavyssos, where I decided to buy a nice parcel of land, following an unexpected proposal of my godmother.

The said parcel of land seems to be a good opportunity: It is situated on a low hillside, it has a beautiful view, there is electric current and water supply. It belongs to a settlement called Galini, which is just a few chilometres away from Anavyssos. It costs 390.000 drachmas and I will have to pay 50.000 drachmas in advance. The rest will be paid off in bills, with my own money.

In the evening we were invited by Alice and Antony to dinner. My sister gave me the impression that she was jealous of my newly-bought land. As always, she wants everything for herself...

Monday, 18th January 1988

Another boring day at work. Mr Zafirakis started whining again about the future of the company – which, indeed, doesn't seem to be all roses: That psycho of Dimoulas keeps on cancelling one signed contract after the other. Another "good" customer, Mr John Kranas, always claims that he is destitute and he bargains over the beggarly provision of my boss for hours -what a niggard! To be more precise, he demands that Lucas imports his machinery without being paid a cent.

This morning Lucas was left no other alternative but lie to Kranas that he has borrowed two million drachmas so as to pay the staff! Great; The company I work for is always on the brink of bankruptcy.

Really, I have begun to wonder how all those big, multinational companies manage to stand: No matter what you do, no matter how clever and prudent you are, there are always imponderable factors that can destroy everything, any moment. Besides, the demanded efforts, pains and expenses are usually not worth the while, since the final earnings are generally too low...

Tuesday, 19th January 1988

Since she hasn't been in touch for weeks now, this morning I phoned Mary Bonanos and asked to make an appointment with Varnalis, just as she had advised me to. However, she told me I should wait one more month because, as she said, these days the publisher is snowed under with work because of a problem in the cover of a new book they have been preparing. And for this reason an entire publishing house is paralyzed?

The fact is that I've been waiting for a year now for my book to be published, but my case remains suspiciously stagnant. I wonder if they have been pulling my leg all this time. If there is no progress until spring, I will submit my novel to other publishers as well.

Friday, 22nd January 1988

Mr Zafirakis was absent all day today, so I had to clear the spare parts of Malamos through the customs all by myself. Among the cleared goods there was a membrane too much. So, I notified the Italian house Derossi to send a telex regarding the free shipment of the membrane. Too much ado for nothing.

Late in the afternoon Persephone came over, with her drawing kit in hand. She said that her teacher was mad about the eggs and chickens I painted last Friday. She even considered the painting to be good enough for a coming European art contest, as long as I remake it in black and white -and sign it with Persa's name, of course. Needless to say, I couldn't say no.

Tuesday, 26th January 1988

Just like every day, this morning I met Louise Hoidas on the bus to work. Last night she took the initiative in inviting all our old schoolmates in a cafeteria in Glyfada, but she didn't let me know because she couldn't find my telephone number, she said. Nonsense; in all probability, she didn't want to find it.

The boss didn't appear in the office today and I spent the whole morning with Paul, our new mechanical engineer. He is 28 years old, he has studied in Bulgaria, he is not a trump, but: What a stupid, clueless boor! He isn't capable of carrying through any conversation, he is such a lazybones, he is constantly sleepy! When Lucas is absent, the bloke spends all the working hours making innumerable successive phone calls to everybody! He never puts down the receiver! What a hysterical moron! I would like to fling a vase at his head! The boss is mad at him because he is unable to carry out the simplest task.

Yesterday Paul had to go to a factory in Piraeus and deliver some documents. However, he finally came back with the documents and claimed that he couldn't find the factory at the given address because it had vanished into thin air: "I looked this way, I looked that way, no sign of the factory!" he announced in confusion and Lucas flew off the handle. Nevertheless, that dead loss earns 80.000 drachmas per month while I, who actually run the company, earn no more than 50.000 drachmas, which is the basic salary.

Friday, 29th January 1988

This evening I went to the gym and exercised my legs and back. I also met Greta, a tall German who never stops trumpeting forth that Greeks are inferior to other Europeans. I also saw two familiar boys, I greeted them but I didn't manage to start a discussion with them. Once again I felt too shy – that mysterious sense which prevents me from communicating with people. I wish I didn't have such sociability problems, but it seems they are a part of my nature. This is never going to change, unless a miracle happens. On the other hand, neither the others seem to be in the mood for socializing with me: A little later, I was upset by a muscular guy who, as I was walking past, said to those surrounding him: "What's that comedy?" - and they all laughed...

Saturday, 6th February 1988

I don't know what's happening to me any more. I feel like suffocating. Early this morning Persa called and demanded I should take her to three different malls in Athens, because she wanted to buy some music cassettes (can't she find them in a local store?). Moreover, she wanted to come over in the evening so that I help her with her homework. After hard negotiations, I managed to avoid the exhausting shopping spree. However, she turned up in the afternoon, I painted a stupid picture for her to show off at school, and she pestered the life out of me with her English homework. A horrible day I spent with another miserable person, Persephone. Yet, the saddest thing is that there was no other way for me to spend Saturday evening.

Who said that life is good? If there is nothing to hope for, then death is more preferable. I am sick and tired of waiting for a miracle! As about my writer's career, it's never going to happen, let's face it. Such successes are never meant for me. Whatever I try to achieve, it always starts with a promise for triumph and it ends with a flop.

With all these problems confronting me, I fear that something dreadful might happen to me in the future. I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be tormented anymore, I've suffered enough so far. What I wish now, is go to sleep tonight and never wake up again. I wish I could live for ever in one of those wonderful, vivid dreams I experience every night. Why do I have to return to this hostile world every morning, where I have no place at all?

Sunday, 7th February 1988

This evening my mother and I went to the theatre, where we watched a nice comedy. There were many famous actors, the play was funny and we had some laughs. Just what I needed...

I have also taken my decisions: Yesterday I was so sad that I feared getting sick. I intend never to let that happen again. It is not worth the while. First of all, I had better avoid people who make me feel miserable. Better no company than bad company. I'll never worry about my social life any more. The fact is that whenever I think about the others, I get upset, stressed, sad, desperate. I feel a lot better when I am alone. When I am "with company", I constantly feel rejected, confined, imprisoned.

All things considered, my life is fine! I don't have to satisfy anybody's whimseys so as to be invited on a Saturday night outing. Happiness is to be in your element and my element is solitude. The truth is that I am different from the other human beings. Hey, what a relief...

Saturday, 13rd February 1988

This morning my sister and I visited our cousin Niki, who still lives in Glyfada. She has a husband and a cute three-year-old daughter now. Before long I engaged in argument with Mr know-all Constantine, Niki's husband: He insisted that success in life depends on intelligence and strong will, while I claimed that fate has the final word in everything.

"Losers say so," chuckled Constantine, who thinks he is super successful as an employee in aluminum works.

"Let's suppose you are right; can you tell me, please, why some people are intelligent and some others are not?"

Silence.

"Why do some people have a strong will, and some others don't?"

"But... we are having a conversation here, we aren't asking why this and why that all the time..." stuttered Constantine, who still couldn't find anything to answer back.

Obviously, it had never occurred to him before, that mental abilities depend on fate too...

Wednesday, 17th February, 1988

The boss has been absent since Monday, because he had to go to Crete for the installation of a labelling machine. At noon I was upset by a phone call from Dimoulas -how I hate phone calls! The bloke's demands are getting crazier and crazier. I phoned Lucas and let him know about it, but he started yelling that I was to blame for the preposterous ideas of Dimoulas. I'm just sick and tired of all that lunacy called "work". Later, at the gym, I was extremely bored; besides, I heard the word "camel" uttered many times in a party of boys. I am not sure about what they meant, I don't care anymore, I just realize that my survival in such a hostile environment, for so many months, is a real achievement.

... Every night I return to my wonderful secret life in the world of dreams, where I can travel freely in paradox lands, full of brightness or haze, paradises or hells. There, in my night adventures, I am always the protagonist and I am never bored. I love and relish these spiritual trips more than any everyday experience. I won't get married. I won't sacrifice my night bliss for anyone...

Chapter 20: Indignation

Monday, 29th February 1988

That was the last straw! I've been too long in this company! I am always obliged to assume responsibility for things I can't possibly know. The boss is constantly grumbling, he says that everything is on his hands, that "there is no organization in here" and that "other bosses never set foot in the office because their super secretaries do all the work by themselves!"

I abhor phone calls. I always have to give half answers and irritate the customers, since certain things are not supposed to be told. When Lucas is absent -and he is absent almost every day- I have to sub for him even if it isn't possible for me to know as much as he does.

This morning I made seven phone calls trying to find Mr Bouras in Argos and give him half an answer to a stupid question of his, just because I was afraid that Lucas would yell at me if I didn't. It' a bedlam in here!

At about 11:00 o'clock two strangers arrived at the office. The said they were from the National Bank of Greece and they asked to see some documents for the import of a bottling machine of Tsakiris. Without thinking twice, I showed them all the relevant books. Mrs Stasa was present, she probably suspected that something was wrong but she didn't say a word and didn't do anything to stop me. Both of us were feeling uncomfortable with all this but we didn't dare say "no" to those men, because we were afraid that Lucas would get angry if we didn't co-operate with them.

In the end, when Lucas arrived, it was proved that showing the books to those people was the worst thing to do, because in this way the overvaluation of the bottling machine was found out. Naturally, I was to blame for everything. The boss fumed and fretted at me, screaming that I had just destroyed his company. I was terribly sad and got a terrible headache which will last till midnight.

I hate being a secretary: What a slavish, preposterous, indefinable yet irrationally demanding job! A secretary can never be sure where her responsibilities begin and where they end. Literally, the boss can demand anything from her! I suspect that most companies are actually run by (female) secretaries; of course (male) managers get all the money and the glory.

It's high time I started looking for another job. If I stay in Vinomec any longer, I will eventually get a nervous breakdown. Besides, all I can hope for in here is a basic salary, zero prospects and frightful tangles...

Tuesday, 1st March 1988

The accountant informed us that there is no need to worry: Lucas will get away with this by paying only a small fine. However, the customer is likely to get into big trouble. Let's just hope this story won't go far.

In the meantime Mr Raptis, the technician, didn't phone us to let us know that he arrived in Athens at 11:30, as expected, and we were worried about him. If he had had a car accident, for example, I would have been the one to blame -as Zafirakis told me with a serious face. I am looking forward to getting out of here.

Late in the afternoon I visited Persa, we listened to music and I asked her to record some foreign pop songs for me. I especially wanted the song "Alien" but, as I found out at home later, all the other songs were successfully recorded except that one! How is this possible? I am the world champion of bad luck! If these simple plans of mine fail so ridiculously, what can I expect for the more important ones?

Wednesday, 2nd March 1988

It's a bedlam in here and I don't intend to go mad. The telephones are ringing like crazy, only the boss can answer certain questions but he is absent and the rest of us can do nothing but look at each other in embarrassment. There is so much work to do but there is no guidance. I feel like suffocating. The atmosphere in the office is getting more and more hostile against me. I can't bear it any longer.

Lucas is leaving for Italy in ten days and I'm worried already. I'm sick and tired of being responsible for a hundred things at the same time! I know: As soon as he is back, I will get a blasting because, according to him, "nothing was done right" and "some managers never set foot in the office because their super secretaries are capable of running the whole company by themselves!"

I strongly suspect that from now on I will always have to change jobs. Just one or two years in each company, then the atmosphere will become unbearable for me and I will take French leave. I will never be one of those who can brag: "I have worked thirty years in that company". I foresee that my life will be extremely difficult. Anyway, I have never been popular, successful, shrewd, lucky -like most people...

Saturday, 5th March 1988

This evening cousin Damian and his wife Anthia paid us a visit. They were both upset and kept complaining a lot about problems created by George, Anthia's brother: Not only has he disappeared from the garage owned by him and Damian, but he's also asked for five million drachmas because he intends to open a taverna. George has already rented the place and bought all the equipment but he can't open the shop because there is a delay with the license. It seems that some shrewd people are ripping him off his money but he is too naive to understand. My cousin is very disappointed.

On the other hand, George has never been a balanced person: Eight years ago, when he was 24 years old, he fell in love with Clair, a nine-year-old girl, who is his wife now. Anthia is mad about her sister-in-law, considering her to be the root of all evil. According to Anthia, it is Clair who seduces George into inanities because she likes to act the superstar: she wants her husband to open that shop, so that she can play the guitar and sing for the customers. Anthia also claims that the young woman often goes out with different men but George always forgives her and takes her back home.

All this sounds very interesting, but I entertain some doubts: I know the girl, she is seventeen years old now, and she seems to be a quiet person -not a whore, as Anthia says. All at once, I remember Clair visiting us together with her husband a few years ago, when they were newly-weds: "I knew what was going to happen to me at the first night of marriage, because when I was nine years old someone raped me!" she had confided in my sister and me.

I was astonished when I heard the above but I didn't piece together all the information then: According to the known story, George first met his wife by chance, while he was in the army in Epirus. Although Clair was only nine years old at the time, George was infatuated with her and he waited patiently for her to turn fourteen, so that he could marry her. Well, I suspect that Mr George was the rapist and that, in all probability, those two got married after a special agreement between the groom and the girl's parents: "You will marry our daughter and redeem her honour, and we shall keep our mouths shut..."

Monday, 7th March 1988

Tonight I dreamed of black snow. The phone call I got from Mary Bonanos early this morning, explained that ill-omened dream: Varnalis is not interested in my book, there is nothing else to do. Mary suggested I should go to other publishers and this is what I intend to do. Of course, deep inside I know there will be no result. Without any strings to pull, it will be like going on a wild goose chase. Yet, I ought to try.

In the evening Persephone came and asked me to paint a rather complicated picture of a living room, which she will present as her own work at the lesson of Art. I can't stand her endless demands anymore. Once she used to come for company as well, but now she only takes advantage of me. As about her mother, she keeps stringing us along saying that she will use some backstairs influence so as to get me a permanent job in the Tax Office. Moreover, every day she brings worn out dresses or skirts, all of them more than twenty years old, which my mother has to repair with her sewing machine.

Even aunt Barbara, one of my father's six sisters, who happened to be at our home tonight, realized that Persa (1.50 m high, 130 kilos) not only is too demanding but acts the vamp as well! Indeed, the meatball hardly paid any attention to me when I entered the living room; in fact, she scorned me as if I owed her a favour for her allowing me to help her with her homework! I won't tolerate this attitude any longer. I intend to get rid of her, as soon as possible.

Thursday, 10th March 1988

It's a miracle! I said a magnificent "no" -and I really enjoyed it- to Persa, who wanted me to paint those eggs and chickens again -for a third time! As she explained, she planned to send the picture to the European art contest not only in a black and white but in colour as well! The girl is raving mad! I hope she gets a zero in Art!

Later in the evening, as I was returning from the gym, just before reaching my neighbourhood, I saw a group of familiar boys gathered in Tempi street; I meet them almost every time I go to the gym, as if they were waiting for me there, and they always mock me one way or another. This time they sorted out a whole dialogue:

"Tassos, do you want her? I think you two are a good match!"

"She wears glasses, so do you!"

"She has a wart on her cheek, so do you!"

"She is a beanpole, so are you!"

"She has a scar on her nose and so do you!"

"Run after her, Tassos!"

Who is Tassos?

That's a mystery.

How did they notice so many details about me, in the dusk?

That's another mystery.

Wednesday, 30th March 1988

I got very angry today: I had the impression that dad would buy a video player for me, as he had promised, but the truth is he has no such intention. Uncle Alex is involved in this too: The two of them have searched high and low for the smallest prices in the market but they've messed up everything and they don't know what's what. The bitter truth is that my parents are old now and they are not to be trusted about anything.

At dinner time dad started whining -as usual: he didn't like it at all when I announced that I will buy that video player by myself, with my own money. According to him, if I give 80.000 drachmas from the sum I have in the bank, we will go bankrupt. I can't bear my parents' endless misery any longer. I must leave home. I can't stay here and get old together with two wretched old people.

The very next day, when I finish work, I will go to a nearby store and buy a fine video player with four heads, at a prize of 130.000 drachmas. Later, as soon as I reach home, I will rent and watch my first video film.

Saturday, 2nd April 1988

Early this morning mum and I went to Alice's home, so as to help her move house. She and Antony have just found an apartment which is newer, bigger and nicer than the old outhouse they have now. This time we had to work even harder than any other time, doing extra household chores for her Majesty: We had to fill up big boxes with stuff and carry them from one house to the other. Thank God the new house is only a ten-minute walk from the old one.

In the afternoon, as I was going for a walk, I happened to see Cleo, an old schoolmate from elementary school. For heaven's sake, she is getting uglier and uglier every day! Her face is manly and so are her arms, shoulders and legs: full of muscles, and this is not due to working out. Her body is more masculine than any man's! Of course, it is a common secret that she is a hermaphrodite, a girl with male genitals hidden inside; Cleo's mother herself has confessed that to my mother.

Nevertheless, that thing has been married, ever since she was sixteen, to a handsome, curly-haired, blue eyed guy! How is it possible that the lady-killer didn't notice any of Cleo's "deficiencies" and even agreed to marry her in record time? When it comes to me, for example, men notice every single detail about me and they disapprove of everything at once: My excessive height (1.75 m), my low weight (55 kilos), the hairs on my arms, the glasses I wear, the lack of mincing...

Sunday, 3rd April 1988

We had unexpected visitors today: It was uncle Harry, my father's cousin, with his wife and their two children. Nassia, their teenage daughter, told me about her recent trip to Nafplio. Then she told me about her school, which is full of drug addicts, sissies and lesbians. In order to avoid the drugs handed out in the refreshment room, a friend of hers brings an orange or an apple to eat at school every day. However, a few days ago, while she was out of the class during the break, a smart aleck opened her bag and injected a drug into her orange! Anyway, I really wonder how Nassia (and all the other pupils) manages to survive without any problems in such an environment...

In the afternoon I called on Alice so as to help her carry some things to her new house. As soon as she saw me she snorted, obviously annoyed. I also met Emmanuel and Mara there. The two of them are having a mad love affair this year: He is a middle-aged womanizer, married with three children, and he happens to be Antony's best friend. She is a stupid chick and my sister's best friend ever since they were schoolmates in gymnasium.

At a moment, Mara asked me to stay out and guard the television set; then she turned to little Yanni and said: "You saw? I kicked her out!". When they finally took the television away and I was allowed to enter the house again, the boy expressed his worry about me. Probably, he was the only one who was happy to see me.

Such situations get on my nerves. That superstar of my sister is constantly telling tales about me to her numerous friends, that's why they all look down on me. I must change environment if I want to see better days...

Tuesday, 5th April 1988

Early this morning Mr Zafirakis phoned and told me that he wouldn't come to the office before noon. He also said that in the afternoon he intended to go to Halkis, together with Paul, so as to fix some wining machines.

Paul acted the fool. To give the devil his due, it is understandable that he prefers to lie low since he knows that after eight hours in the office there will be a lot more work for him to do in some factory in Halkis, all night long. So, he spent his time making successive phone calls to hundreds of people, from 8:00 to 14:30, and then he got away. Just as well; I couldn't stand him any longer, he is a cipher. I would like to hurl an ashtray at his head.

As soon as Lucas arrived and didn't find our mechanical engineer in the office, he flew into a rage and began to swear loudly. "Since Paul is incapable of taking any initiative, maybe you should start telling him exactly what to do every day," I advised him.

Wednesday, 13th April 1988

At about noon my cousin Chryssa called and we talked about my storm-tossed book. In her opinion, Mary Bonanos probably sabotaged it: "I suspect that idiot never gave it to Varnalis!", she said. I think so too. Finally, Chryssa suggested I should come in contact with other publishing houses, while she will give my novel to an agent she knows, a certain Mr Kotsonis, who can present it to some other publishers. I think the case is getting too complicated, but I still hope.

In the meanwhile, Persephone has disappeared for more than a month; that is ever since I refused to paint those eggs and chickens for a third time. Indeed, I don't know what's going on. I don't live in a desert. There are lots of people around me: parents, sister, numerous friends of my sister, relatives, neighbours, acquaintances at the gym, colleagues at work. However, nobody cares about me, nobody wants to be my friend, nobody proposes me a match. To all those people, I don't even exist. They only know how to give me advice like "You should develop your social life a little". I, on the other side, keep on running high and low, desperately trying to find friends; yet, whatever I do, I am always an intruder in their midst. They all look on me either as a nuisance or as a poor thing...

Thursday, 14th April 1988

Another exasperating day at work: I received Tronchi's offer for Valasis Winery, however there is no authorization, and the letter of guarantee is written in French! Moreover, the name of our company isn't mentioned anywhere! For God's sake! As if that moron of Tronchi had never exported to Greece before!

I spent the whole morning running an office marathon: I typed the four-page offer to Valasis, I sent uncountable faxes and telexes to the Italian manufacturer instructing him how to correct the above mistakes, I coordinated various Italian companies with customs brokers and bank employees. Absolute madness! Needless to say, it is impossible to finish today and this means that tomorrow, when Lucas returns from Santorini, he will be furious at me. I'm fed up with all this lunacy!

Friday, 15th April 1988

One more marathon day at work, striving to carry out an enormous number of tasks. Moreover, the bank put me through the mill before preparing the letter of guarantee from Tronchi. Finally, I received the document just at the last moment, while the bank employee was grumbling vexed. I hate banks and public services. All those who work there are nothing but useless idlers.

In the afternoon, my parents and I were invited by Bill and Judith, who have rented our first floor. They are getting married on Sunday. A little later, the nuptial bed was made. I was surprised to see that there was only a white sheet and two pillows on the bed. Their baby, the eight-month-old Constantine, was very sweet and slept most of the time. Is Bill rather jumpy, or what?

Some relatives of Judith were present as well; they all arrived this morning from New Zealand and they will stay in Greece for a week. I communicated with them in English, especially with Judith's mother and two other ladies. Sometimes I had a little difficulty in understanding them because they are used to speaking between their teeth, but all of them were pleasant, polite and friendly. Paradoxically, I felt quite comfortable among them: I wasn't shy and reserved as usual, neither did I wonder once what I should say to look interesting and cute.

They all seem to be calm and happy with their lives in New Zealand: It's a prosperous country, most people live on nice farms in a natural environment and they have their own swimming pools too. The jobless get an unemployment allowance for years if needed (not just for nine months, as in Greece), until they find a new position.

In the end, they invited me to spend my summer vacations on their farm. I was astonished at their kindness, I liked the idea but I don't think I will go. I hardly know them.

Saturday, 16th April 1988

Despite my nasty cold which is getting worse and worse, this morning my mother and I left home and called on Alice. We hardly stayed there for half an hour, because Alice had a long face and kept calling me "faulty" again and again. Then mum commented that I had forgotten to remove some hairs from my chin and my dear sister got angry: "Really, can't you see anything else that's ugly about her?"

Finally, we had to go off hastily because Alice was looking forward to visiting one of her friends. As we were walking down the street, it started raining cats and dogs and we were chilled to the bone. I don't intend to visit Alice ever again. She always finds something better to do than keep me company. She only wants us to serve her and then hit the road. I won't tolerate this attitude anymore. Enough is enough!

In the evening Persephone arrived unexpectedly and asked me to paint some crazy eggs again. I finished the work of art within a quarter of an hour. Then, we had a pleasant discussion till late at night. Among others, we talked about certain mini singers, 15 or 16-year-old girls who have been mushrooming in show business lately, but they are bound to disappear next year...

Sunday, 17th April 1988

In the evening my father and I went to Judith and Bill's wedding. The bride arrived at the church of St Tryfon in a carriage but she didn't get off at once; she had to wait for a while, until the groom showed up at 7:00 o'clock sharp, which was the set time of the wedding.

I held the baby in my lap for a few minutes but he wouldn't stop crying. Mrs Voula, who has rented our apartment on the second floor, took him in her hands and managed to calm him down. "She knows how to do it," said the bride's mother smiling.

When the ceremony was over, we returned home on foot. Mrs Voula, her husband and their teenage son went to the wedding reception, just like all the other guests. Only my family was not invited. Why, indeed? I thought we were in good terms with Judith and Bill...

Friday, 22nd April 1988

Calvary at work: Once again, the buses were on strike. I managed to arrive at the office half an hour late, that is at 8:30. Luckily, Lucas had not come yet. Mr Rossini of Tafel phoned and suggested his sending a technician to Christides Winery in the beginning of May. I notified the customer, but he insisted the technician should come on the 9th or 10th of May. I phoned Mr Rossini and informed him about it. After a while Mr Christides called again, I assured him that I had just arranged everything according to his wishes, but he burst out all nerves:

"9th or 10th of May? What are you talking about, miss? It will be too late then! On the 3rd of May, at the latest, the technician must be here!"

"But you told me..." I tried to protest, but the bloke hang up and I had my hackles up. What shall I tell the Italians now? I wondered, full of worry.

Finally, the manufacturer Tafel sent a telex, where I added on the spot that everything was ready for the technician to come on the 3rd of May at the latest. After a while Mr Christides called again and ordered me not to do anything until he spoke with Lucas. He is a madcap!

When the boss came at last, I narrated the whole story to him, he phoned Mr Rossini at once and the Italian congratulated him on me. Then, for half an hour or more Lucas ran Paul down, saying that he is nothing but a dead loss. In the end, I had to work three hours overtime in order to finish all the necessary work and the boss gave me 2000 drachmas "so as to drink his health".

Saturday, 23rd April 1988

Like every Saturday morning, my mother and I visited Alice and helped her with the housework. This time my sister was worried because she had arranged a get-together of friends for this evening. The problem was that Koko, her parrot, had escaped from his cage and made himself comfortable on the sofa. I approached and extended my finger, so that he could jump on it; yet, as soon as I got near, Koko was terrified and started flying around the living room.

Yanni got a good spanking because he took off his blouse and threw it off the balcony. A little later he disposed of a teddy bear as well. Alice asked me to babysit him for a while because she wanted to go to the shops and buy stuff. The boy drove me hard and he almost jumped off the balcony. When Antony came, he managed to catch the bird by throwing cushions at it.

Later, in the evening, the guests started arriving: Emmanuel, the middle-aged lady-killer, and Roula, his stupid girlfriend: she wants to get rid of him but he threatens to stab her, she says; cousin Niki with her husband; Antony's sister, with her always broke but haughty husband; Dennis, Antony's best friend, with his fiancé. As usual, everybody ignored me systematically until I was left all alone, crouched in a corner. When I dared say something to Alice, she gave me a malignant look and snapped at me: "We were kind enough to invite you! Now, if you aren't having a good time, we don't give a dime!"

Tuesday, 26th April 1988

The long-waited settlement of Pavlides ended in a fiasco, just like I had imagined: On the invoices the Italians had written "Delivery Ex Works" instead of "Delivery CIF". I moved heaven and earth in order to make the Italians understand how to draw up the correct invoices.

Then I had to get an order confirmation from the customer -everything in record time. However, those shrewish hens in the bank didn't accept the order confirmation, because they never move a finger after 11:30 and I brought them the document at 12:00. When I finally finished, the time was 12:05 -too late. I hate banks. I hate hens. I hate this job. Later on I had to go to the Tax Office and submit some VAT statements which were not accepted because, according to the sleepy public servant, "everything is wrong here!"

In the afternoon, when spirits had calmed down a little, I confided some of my ideas in Lucas: For example, he could make questionnaires regarding wining machines and give them to his customers. He smiled and told me I should be doing Paul's job. "You are the best mechanical engineer this company has ever had," he admitted -but he said nothing about a raise...

Chapter 21: New Horizons

Saturday, 30th April 1988

A day of action: I spent the whole morning going from publisher to publisher, leaving a copy of my novel "The Conspiracy of Shadows" to each one of them. This first contact brought no encouraging results: The great majority of publishers didn't even deign to have a look at my book because they are snowed under with work, as they told me. Some others acted the idealists, claiming that they publish only meaningful books, after careful selection.

Mr Marris, one of the most famous publishers in the country, was sincere enough to tell me that he never publishes books of new writers; he does business with recognized authors exclusively.

"My novel is good," I insisted.

"No doubt, there are thousands of good books, but we don't publish good books we publish books that are in vogue!"

"My book is in vogue, too!" I went on undaunted.

"It can't be in vogue, because you are not famous!"

"Thanks for your time!" I said and left.

He didn't give me any hope, but I recognized his frankness.

Later, following my father's instructions, I went to find another publisher called Tsalikis; I've never heard of him but dad says he is an old friend of his from Lixouri. When I arrived at the given address, I was surprised to see that there was a patisserie there. I asked to see Mr Tsalikis and they sent me next door, which proved to be a clothes shop. I returned to the patisserie and they finally informed me that Mr Tsalikis is on a business trip to Italy. Obviously, the bloke has nothing to do with books.

Sunday, 1st May 1988

Today my family and I went on an organized day trip to Saint John the Russian, in Euboea, together with uncle Harry, his wife and their daughter, Nassia. It was an enjoyable trip along wooded mountain sides and green fields. However, I was exasperated by a paranoid old man who, during the whole journey, went near the coach driver again and again, took the microphone in his hands and made ridiculous speeches or told insipid jokes with his nasty, clarion voice.

When we arrived at the church of Saint John the Russian at last (my ears!), the whole group went to bow before the saint's relics and his belt, which is believed to cure illnesses. His face is covered because the faithful used to bite it and take the pieces as a talisman. People are crazy...

We had lunch in a local tavern and then we played volleyball with Nassia and some other young people from the group. Volleyball is my favourite sport but I seldom have the chance to play. After that, my cousin and I went for a walk in the green, flowery village of New Prokopion and we talked about many interesting subjects, such as the oppression of women in the modern society, where a woman is considered to be finished unless she is married by thirty.

I had a very nice time while we were in the village; however, on the way back home I got really indignant at the old cretin, who made us listen to his prehistoric cantatas for hours, while he was singing along! Someone tried to protest but the moron paid no heed at all. Strangely enough, nobody else dared say another word to him.

As I found out at the next stop, it was bad luck that had led my mother and me to the wrong coach. My father and his relatives were in the other coach, where nice pop and rock songs were heard and the atmosphere was more pleasant.

Until we reached Athens, I (and all the other passengers, I think) had almost had a nervous breakdown because of the nasty prehistoric songs and the unstoppable, psychotic verbal diarrhoea of the cretin. I wonder, though: How is it possible that nobody reacted dynamically during all those horrible hours? Why do people submit themselves so easily to any nutcase who acts the leader?

Tuesday, 10th May 1988

My whole life condensed in a day: There was a frightful commotion at work, because I had to arrange the arrival of Italian technicians at the factory of Christides in Yannena. At the same time I had to persuade Derossi and Meltec to send the invoices for Dimoulas in time.

At about 4:20, while Meltec was acting the fool, the customs broker phoned and demanded I should send the Dimoulas invoices by coach no later than this afternoon – which is impossible, because the last coach to Argos (where the customer's winery is) leaves at 5:00 and the coach station is too far from Vinomec. Despite my successive faxes, Meltec had sent nothing until 5:00 o'clock and I got hysterical.

Later, at home, while I was getting ready to have my meal, I noticed that mum was watching me closely.

"Eat some bread!" she cried suddenly.

I reached for the bread but before I touched it...

"Eat some cheese!"

I reached for the cheese but before I touched it...

"Eat some salad!"

I reached for the salad but before I touched it...

"Eat some of your food, now! Haven't you eaten enough junk?"

"Mum!"

"What is it now?"

"Get off my back! Go and watch some television! Now!"

"I want to die, so that you will get rid of me!" she muttered and got away.

Later, when I went to the gym, I felt terribly alone. Greta was not there, she has disappeared for months now. There was nobody else to talk to and I got bored. Moreover, as I was returning home, one of the bums in Tempi street (who give me the impression they are always on the look-out for me) called me "giraffe". I would be happy if he fell down and broke his leg.

Friday, 13th May 1988

Incredible but true: Dimoulas has a fax machine in Argos but he told us so only this morning! All that agony and frantic run with his stupid invoices was nothing but a fool's errand! The bloke is a lunatic! But that wasn't all: There is also another problem with the Tafel labelling machine, which will arrive at the port of Piraeus instead of Loutraki. I just hope this ends well; if anything goes wrong, I will be the one to blame for all the mistakes made by the Italians.

At noon I phoned Mr Kotsonis; I introduced myself and told him about my novel. He seemed happy for my phone call, he explained that he is a writer himself and that he keeps contact with many famous publishing houses. However, he pointed out that I am not likely to find a publisher who will publish my book on his own expenses; most probably, I will be asked to pay a certain amount of money. He showed an interest in my novel, but there was something I didn't like in his expressions: "I will bend over it (he means my book) with love" ... "I like the Ionian islands but the increasing tourism has resulted in the prostitution of their inhabitants" (twice). Finally, we arranged an appointment for Tuesday evening.

In the evening Persa dropped by because she wanted me to make a painting of fish for her. I finished it in a quarter of an hour. Aunt Pauline, who happened to be present, sought to tease her: She told us about two sisters for whom she used to embroider when she was a schoolgirl. The sisters always got full marks in housekeeping, but if the teacher made them embroider in class, they would put their foot in it. Persephone made a wry face but she pretended she hadn't taken the hint.

Tuesday, 17th May 1988

Right after work, I met Chryssa downtown and we both headed for the bookshop of Chris Kotsonis, in Pagrati. When we arrived there, I was impressed by the rustic furniture and the great number of arty books put on three long shelves they will hardly ever leave.

We sat on a nice sofa made of logs and covered with patchwork rugs. Right from the first moment, the guy was very friendly and he gave each one of us a copy of his last book, "The Unknown City", as a gift. He also gave me a collection of his poems titled "Brief Gleanings", which I must return in due time.

Chris is about forty, single, an ex rebelled youth, one of those who think they have avoided compromise. Answering his questions, I told him that I have been writing stories ever since I was a child but "The Conspiracy of Shadows" is my first novel. I also told him I read Greek and foreign literature, mostly books that give information or teach something. "This is what I do too, but in this way you eventually obtain nothing, and you don't enjoy reading either. I have read thousands of books; if I had kept something from each one of them, I would be a wise man now," he retorted. I went along with that, although I'm not so sure that I agree.

Finally, he assured me that he will read my book carefully and see that it is published. We shall also give it to journalists and get some reviews. I will probably have to pay for a part of the publishing expenses, while the publisher will undertake the distribution of the book. Linotype costs much less than phototypesetting and we'll prefer it, since the result will be the same.

A little later, a guy and his girlfriend showed up. As soon as he saw them, Chris greeted them warmly and remembered the good old times after the political changeover of '74, when lots of people went in and out of his shop and revolutionary books were in vogue.

When we finally left the shop, Chryssa confided in me that Kotsonis struck her as a nice person, though a little overreacting.

"He will be impressed at your book," she concluded smiling.

"Sure he will; but I don' know if it will be a positive or a negative impression; he is an arty guy, you see," I joked.

Sunday, 22nd May 1988

I spent the whole morning with my little nephew, because his parents are on a day trip to Aegina and my mother has gone to the funeral of aunt Diamanta. At first we watched some stupid animated cartoons on television, but most of the time the kid was a handful: We played football for more than an hour, he wet his pants, he wanted to see my breasts, he sought to get out of the bedroom window.

All at once, Yanni showed me a bag full of toys and told me with a cunning look: "Take these toys to the kitchen!". I did him the favour but as soon as I got back to the living room, just a second later, the boy had vanished into thin air! I looked under the bed but he wasn't there. However, the window was open, so I supposed he had sprang through it into the yard. I got out of the house, I searched the yard, but the boy was nowhere to see. I called his name again and again, nothing. I rushed into the street, I ran to the nearest crossroads, nothing.

Almost mad with worry, I returned to the yard, still calling his name. Right then, I heard a voice from heaven: "Auntie, I am up here!" I raised my head and saw the boy standing on the terrace of our three-storeyed house! Apparently, the door which leads upstairs had not been well closed, so the kid just pushed it and entered the stairwell.

I ran to the terrace at the double, I grabbed Yanni by the hand, I took him down immediately and I gave him a good old spanking. I really wonder about all these women who fancy raising children. I don't think this lifestyle is right for me...

Tuesday, 24th May 1988

In the afternoon I called on my sister because she wanted me to meet Vangelis: He is one of Antony's cousins, he lives in Crete and he will stay in Glyfada for a few days. We waited and waited but the bloke was nowhere to see. Alice left me alone in the sitting room and dropped by Vangelis' uncle, who lives nearby, so as to find out what had happened to the would-be groom. Finally, the young man rang the doorbell at 8:30, and he informed us that he had come earlier, at about six o'clock, but oddly enough the bell hadn't rung. Was that bad luck or what?

As soon as I stepped into the living room and saw him, I felt a strange embarrassment – probably because Alice didn't go to the trouble of introducing us. We just said "hello" and that was all. A little later, when I followed my sister into the kitchen, she put on a disdainful look and admonished me for not mincing enough. "You were just standing there, like a gawk!" she said sharply.

A few minutes later, Antony came home together with three video tapes, two of his friends and their girlfriends. He closed the French windows and we all sat and watched all three films, one after the other; as a result we couldn't utter a word. Vangelis proved to be an agreeable guy. He doesn't like video films so much, he said, I don't like them either. He is tall, thin, good-looking, a little dark-skinned – I could hardly discern his features in the darkness of the living room. So much of a match-making...

Alice and I soon got bored and we went out for a walk. We took little Yanni with us but he was very naughty and he made a scene because the ice cream we bought him was too small, as he complained.

Suddenly, Alice remembered she had not gone to the birthday party of cousin Niki's daughter two days ago, and she was worried that Niki might be angry at her. So, she turned to me and ordered: "On your way home, call on Niki and tell her that I am terribly sorry for the negligence and that I will drop by tomorrow and wish many happy returns".

Needless to say, I didn't do anything like that. Alright, my parents and I have landed ourselves in a mess serving Her Majesty the Queen Alice, but ludicrousness has a limit...

Sunday, 27th May 1988

At about noon I phoned Chris Kotsonis and he announced happily the following: "Your book is fine, it has many good points but you could abridge it a little. You should have it published though, and for heaven's sake, don't stop here, write more books, better ones!". Then he said he had already found "a very important and willing publisher" who, however, will ask for my contribution in the expenses. When I called Chryssa and told her about it, she agreed: "Don't turn down the proposal. My boss will undertake the typesetting and we'll offer you a discount". I am beginning to like the idea.

Saturday, 28th May 1988

Early this morning mum got on my nerves because, as usual, she started finding faults with me: "Don't put on the red blouse, it shows off your wry shoulders" ... "The yellow on shows off your wry back" ... "You've lost weight, you look terrible!". All things considered, she is a deviously oppressive woman. Ever since I was a kid she has been scolding me for anything, criticizing whatever I do and depriving me from any initiative, even in the simplest matters.

Alice dropped by at noon, she had lunch with us, I told her about the above incident and she agreed that our mother is wayward and pushy, especially towards me. "You certainly don't let Yvonne take any initiative," she said to mum. Paradoxically, my sister has escaped her influence: mum never tells her how to do this or that maybe because, for some strange reason, she never fears that Alice could ever do anything wrong...

Tuesday, 31st May 1988

I worked with Kyriakides till late in the evening because I had to type some stupid ten-page contracts, plus the rest of the correspondence. Then he offered to give me a ride home but he annoyed me a little because he sought to prove that I never go out with friends: "How is it possible, that you haven't planned anything for tonight? Don't you have a love affair?" he asked suspiciously. No matter how hard I tried to convince him about the opposite by telling him fibs, for example that I often go out with friends and that I just happened to stay in tonight, he still insisted on his story. What does it matter to him, anyway?

When I arrived home, I was informed that Alice had just found a job: After her mother-in-law's mediation, who has been working as a chambermaid in the luxurious hotel Blue Rose in Vouliagmeni for many years, tomorrow Alice starts work as a chamber-maid in the same hotel. She will have to work for eight to ten hours every day, she isn't sure whether she will have any days off during the whole summer, nevertheless she is very pleased.

Thursday, 2nd June 1988

This afternoon Mr Kotsonis and I had an appointment with Mr Kourtakis, owner of the publishing house Evagoras. As I found out soon, this company is a "ghost": It consists of one dusty room only, it has no sign, it doesn't appear in the yellow pages, and its owner didn't even have a business card to give me.

Anyway, what I heard today had nothing to do with what Kotsonis had been telling me lately: They want me to pay all the publishing expenses, and they won't even distribute the book because the great company consists of two persons only. Kourtakis also made clear that he won't put the name of his house on my novel, because a serious scholar like him doesn't put the name Evagoras on any insignificant book.

In the end, I told them I would thing about it for a couple of days, but I don't foresee any agreement with them. Anyway, both of them struck me as two cunning skint blokes who are desperately looking for pennies...

Friday, 3rd June 1988

In the afternoon, right after work, I went to Evagoras again and gave my final answer. As soon as Kourtakis heard that I was not prepared to pay for the publishing of my novel, he started trembling of fear! Then he put on an air of profundity and announced that he is not interested in my book because it looks like a soft cover mainstream novel (I bet the nitwit wishes he could write something like that) and a "serious" publishing house like the invisible Evagoras doesn't publish such books.

The fact is that Kotsonis put his foot in it; moreover, when I called him in the evening, he wanted to make something of it: "Who do you think you are, to have such demands? I was more bashful when I was having my first book published," he reprimanded me. That was it: I am never going to get in contact with those two morons again.

Chapter 22: Circle of Promises

Saturday, 4th June 1988

I have already seen dozens of publishers all over Athens, and most of the times the results were rather disappointing: The majority of them didn't even deign to have a look at my book, some others thought it were too big (155 pages), someone found it "nice, publishable, not a masterpiece, but there is nothing to do now because our schedule is full till the end of next year".

This morning I went to Danae Publishing, which is one of the most famous houses in the country. The editor returned the book to me, after having kept it for a month, together with a written review: "Interesting style of writing. Your novel has many influences but it is quite original". She spoke to me in a friendly manner, she called me by my name, but she suggested I should go to other publishers, since they can't publish it because their schedule is full till the end of next year (the usual story). "Don't you have any acquaintances in the publishing industry?" she concluded with a meaningful smile.

Mr Kosmides, another famous publisher, didn't wish to see my novel, yet he was very sincere to me: There is no way to have it published without paying, science fiction and fantasy are not in vogue any more, only renowned authors survive even if they write nonsense. He also told me that Varnalis is unapproachable, since he is the closest to the prime minister. I guess Mrs Bonanos had been stringing me along for one whole year...

The publishing house "Faesilie" has given me some hope: The friendly, bearded publisher has already read and approved of my novel, yet he has been postponing the signing of the contract month after month. His chief editor has talked to me on the phone, he said he found my novel very interesting, he made some correct remarks and he also stated that "The Conspiracy of Shadows" belongs to the genre of fantasy, it is not science fiction.

Yet, the most hopeful case is another publisher named Halaris, who has also approved of my book and told me we shall sign a contract by the end of next year. For the time being all I have is promises, but I am waiting patiently, full of optimism...

Sunday, 5th June 1988

This afternoon I paid a visit to cousin Chryssa and we talked about that cipher of Kotsonis. Then two of her friends arrived and we all went to a cafeteria in the Areos Park. I think I'll get along well with these people.

We were chatting cheerily, when all at once Chryssa asked me about my book. I informed her that I have been to many publishers, that two of them are interested in publishing my novel till the end of next year, and that I will prefer the one who will sign the contract first. Everybody seemed to be impressed.

"Shall we see you again?" they asked me later, as I was leaving.

"Of course!" I replied smiling.

On the way home, a nice young man came and sat next to me in the bus. Before long he started talking to me and I was surprised at his interest in me. His name is Michael, he is 24 years old and he is a publisher! He is rather plump, with big buttocks, not quite my type, but he has a beautiful face. He said that his company is quite successful, with a staff of 50 employees, and that he was going to the Book Fair at Syntagma Square in order to find new collaborators.

Finally, we went to the fair together. I bought a book of fantasy stories, while he was talking to a group of managers. "This is how you earn 4000 drachmas a day," he bragged a little later. I suspect he is just a peddler who tries to hit on chicks by acting the rich publisher.

When we arrived at the bus terminus at Zappeion, he isolated me at a bench and kissed me. I think he is very hasty and he says big words like "You kiss nicely, Yvonne". Is this just hot air, or what?

Tuesday, 7th June 1988

This morning my mother and I went to the Lyceum of St Tryfon, so as to make some original copies of my graduation certificate. Probably I will need them while searching for a better job. However, due to a mistake of mine, the master in charge couldn't validate the photocopies, so our going there was a waste of effort.

My mother took the occasion to express all her disappointment in me: "We are always complaining about our bad luck, but we say nothing about our stupidity!". Next moment she touched the left side of my back, which protrudes slightly because of my scoliosis, and said bitterly: "Your back is wry, you need exercise!". Then, she touched my right shoulder, which is a little lower than the left one. "Lift your shoulder, don't let it droop!" she went on grimly. At that moment I realized that my mother wishes she had another daughter, someone beautiful and popular, not me.

In the afternoon I set out for the gym, although I was feeling very gloomy. As soon as they saw me walking down the road, the familiar bums of Tempi street started making fun of me: "Hey, you! Giraffe! You, camel!". They wouldn't stop deriding me, so I turned my head back and shouted at them: "You are sissies, all of you!" Paradoxically, they all shut up at once.

Sunday, 19th June 1988

It's two weeks now since I met him, and Michael hasn't communicated with me yet. So, I decided to make the big step and call him first. We arranged an appointment for this afternoon and we went on a walk in the National Gardens. He kissed me three times with his fleshy lips and it felt nice; yet, he made me wonder because every now and then he dropped certain hints: "Here are your relatives!" (outside the cage of the goats), or "Here are your cousins!" (near the enclosure of the donkeys). In the beginning I took it as a joke, but when I told him something similar outside the cage of the monkeys, he didn't like it at all. A little later I asked him to give me the telephone number of his workplace but he looked reluctant:

"I've already given it to you and told you not to call me there!" he said.

"Really? You've told me all this and I don't remember?" I replied ironically.

Finally, we sat at a table in the outdoor cafeteria inside the National Gardens, where we chatted for about an hour. I wouldn't mind another date with him but as we were getting ready to leave, Michael told me cunningly:

"I'm afraid I haven't taken enough money with me and I need a taxi urgently; could you lend me a thousand drachmas?"

"I don't have so much money with me," I answered calmly.

"Four hundred drachmas?"

"No, I'm sorry..."

It was crystal clear to me that the bloke wanted me to pay for his coffee too, but I didn't do him the favour.

No sooner had that torrid love affair ended, than another began: As soon as I arrived at Zappeion Park, I happened to cross another bloke: It was a tall, thin man with brown hair and short quiffs on his forehead. He stopped me and asked me to go for a coffee with him right away. I accepted immediately, because he was not ugly and he looked like a gentleman; besides, I wanted to be sociable and willing for new experiences.

We entered a nearby cafeteria at once and the first introductions were made. His his name is Constantine and he works as a teacher. We chatted pleasantly for an hour or so, he seemed to be more refined, polite and educated than Michael, he even showed interest and understanding about the difficulties of my job: "Don't worry about work; work is never over, Yvonne," he advised me calmly.

Sunday, 26th June 1988

This afternoon I met Constantine again. This time we went to the outdoor cafeteria in Zappeion Park. At first, everything was fine. He seemed decent and "harmless", and all we did was talk about various subjects of common interest. However, after half an hour he told me smiling: "We must come closer to each other! If we go on like this, the other people here will think we have quarrelled!" So, we came closer and held hands, arm-in-arm. A few minutes later he suggested we go for a walk together -in fact he insisted a lot on that. I agreed because I wanted to show good will and adaptability. How could I imagine what awaited me?

During our walk along Amalias Avenue, the bloke didn't take his hands off me -not even for one moment! He kept me captive right in front of him, in a most unnatural way, so that his body was stuck to mine while we were walking. In fact, I could hardly walk, while everybody was staring at us. I didn't dare say anything because nothing like that had ever happened to me before and I didn't know how to react. Besides, I didn't want him to put me down as an iceberg – even if every moment was torture to me.

Only when we arrived at the bus terminus at Zappeion, did I ask him to behave himself. He partly conformed to my wish but he kept on holding my hand, making sure that it touched his penis! I didn't protest any more; I just had patience until we reached the bus.

Needless to say, I don't intend to meet this pervert ever again. I only wonder: Is this what happens any time a girl goes out with a guy? "This is what all men do, and most women like it!" confirms my sexually expert sister. But how can women tolerate being treated like this? I just can't understand...

Saturday, 2nd July 1988

This is the fourth weekend in a row that I have phoned my cousin Chryssa and asked her we meet on one of the two days; yet, she has been frigid towards me and avoided seeing me, with various excuses. I feel depressed because I know we shall never go out together again and I can't figure out why. Just when I thought I had found a normal, enjoyable party of friends... Why isn't Chryssa interested in me any more?

In the afternoon aunt Penelope paid us a visit. At a moment I said something she didn't approve of; she pointed at the coffee I was drinking and burst out at me: "That's why you will go mad in the end, and you won't be able to tolerate the slightest noise! Even a fly will get on your nerves!"

At first I was taken aback at what aunt had just said, but then I laughed and told her that I don't have a problem with noise. She didn't answer, but she glanced at me again with her enigmatic, piercing eyes, as if she were saying: "Yeah, sure, just wait and see..."

Saturday, 16th June 1988

Due to lack of company (as usual), this morning I decided to go alone to the beach of Voula. I was swimming in the shallows when a dark-skinned guy approached me and started courting me. I didn't like him so much, he looked like an Arab, he swam like a frog, and he was always in my way. However, I pressed myself to be friendly and receptive; years go by fast, I am not twenty years old and I can't be choosy any more. With his broken Greek, he told me that his name is Omar, he comes from Egypt and he works in the embassy. I considered it wise not to reveal my true identity: I told him that my name is Mary and that I live in Kallithea. His face lit up because he lives in Kallithea too, as he told me.

As we were getting out of the water, the bloke wanted to hold hands with me, as if we were lovebirds. "You are in my heart from the first moment I saw you, Mary!" he announced histrionically. He treated me to a glass of iced coffee, we talked quietly for a while and we finally arranged to meet at a cafeteria in Kallithea three days later. As I was leaving the beach, Omar said to me: "No lies, Mary, alright? No lies!"

Tuesday, 19th July 1988

Although I wasn't really in the mood for it, I did my best to go to the appointment on time, although it was exhausting for me: Like every weekday, I had to work for eight hours at the office, which is in New Smyrna. When I returned home, I hardly had any time to take lunch and rest for half an hour; then I had to take two buses, so as to meet Omar in Kallithea at 7:30, as agreed. However, I waited there for forty-five minutes but the would-be groom didn't show up. Strangely enough, I didn't feel bad about it; in fact, I was relieved...

Saturday, 23rd July 1988

I was naive enough to go to the same beach which is, by the way, quite big and crowded. Omar popped up in front of me again and asked me the reason why I stood him up on Tuesday. I pretended I didn't know him and told him he was making a mistake, while I was trying to get out of the water. Once again he was in my way and didn't let me swim out. I started to get annoyed and he started losing his temper. "Don't be nervy, Mary" he exclaimed at a moment.

Finally, I managed to get out of the sea and lay down on the sand in order to sunbathe. A few seconds later he passed by me, he called me "nitwit", I called him "stupid", and that was the end of another love story. I don't intend to go to that beach alone again.

Tuesday, 16th August 1988

Just as I was wondering why relatives and friends never propose a match to me, uncle Alex dropped by this afternoon and announced that he had just met a guy who's Mr Right for me: He has seen him at the seaside three times, he is a dark-skinned Muslim Arab, and he is desperately looking for a bride! Uncle Alex told him about me and the Arab said that if I wanted him to marry me, I should leave everything behind, go to Saudi Arabia with him and become a Muslim! "He must be rich, though!" wound up uncle Alex.

My mother was very enthusiastic about this, she urged me to meet the bloke as soon as possible but I refused flatly. I am not at all in the mood of getting involved with a Muslim and buried in a harem...

Wednesday, 17th August 1988

It was late in the afternoon when my mother and I decided to go for a walk together. Who did we meet twenty minutes later, as soon as we turned into Pellis st.? Uncle Alex! Right at that time he was driving up the road, having just returned from the beach! Is this a diabolic coincidence or what? I wondered. Uncle Alex claimed that our meeting was fateful and that I was meant to meet the groom from Arabia right away! "Every day at this hour he is sunbathing at Diamond Beach! Especially this evening, he will be waiting for us!" he concluded, full of excitement.

My mother, jumping for joy, agreed immediately that fate was leading me to... Saudi Arabia. I tried to protest but nobody was listening to me. So, we got into uncle's car, he reversed direction and we headed for the seaside.

However, when we finally reached Diamond Beach, the groom was nowhere to see! Phew! That was close! Yet, uncle Alex and mum wouldn't get daunted so easily. They insisted on our waiting there for a while, in case Prince Charming showed up. We stayed there for half an hour but nothing like that happened. We got on the car and returned home, while my mother could hardly hold back her tears.

Thursday, 13th October 1988

As I was returning from work by bus, I happened to meet Kate, an old schoolmate of mine, with whom I used to keep company (as boring as can be) while we were in lyceum. I was astounded to hear that has been married to a famous footballer for five years now! She has two children and she works in the Tax Office, where she was hired as soon as she finished high school.

"I met Lena by chance, a few months ago," she informed me then. "She is married too, and if you see her husband, you will drop dead! He is just gorgeous! As about her, she has lost weight and she is very beautiful. Moreover, she has a permanent job in the Social Security Insurance Foundation!"

Really now, isn't this odd? The most boring girls in the school, always stuck in a corner, parroting the lesson again and again, are now married to handsome and successful men, and they have permanent jobs in public services...

Saturday, 5th November 1988

Today I went on a day trip to Kavouri beach together with my mother, my sister, Antony and some friends of the couple: Emmanuel with his wife, handsome Nick with his new girlfriend who is a gipsy (literally), and Dennis with Mary. Right from the start I could see that my mother and I didn't match well with the others. I tried to keep a positive mind and I was happy to take part in the volleyball game they fixed up after a while. However, a lot of time passed without my getting the ball and I began to wonder...

Before long I realized that Emmanuel, who was playing in the first row, always jumped up and down like a kid, especially when the ball was coming my direction, and took great care to prevent me from playing! After a while I got out of the game, rather disappointed. I don't think that anybody noticed.

I made myself comfortable on a boulder and I unconsciously started to observe the people who were coming and going all over the beach, experiencing another reality: Hundreds of persons are crowded in my range of vision; they are walking slowly or fast, they are shouting or lingering, they are laughing, gesticulating, beckoning, running, climbing up and down the rocks, changing directions. Each one of them is doing something different, yet they are all following a common inner tempo, sharing a common purpose; they are all secretly driven by the same invisible yet rational force which binds, controls and operates them like marionettes in a weird puppet show...

* * * *

Saturday, 28th January 1989

A few days ago uncle Harry and his wife invited us to their home in Nikaia, in order to make me a match. I don't really like the idea, yet I wouldn't like to miss a good opportunity. So, this evening I decided to pay that visit together with my father, so as to meet the would-be groom.

His name is Tim, he is 32 years old, he is a factory worker and not attractive at all: He looks like a plump vampire with pointed yellow teeth, and he struck me as wayward and smarmy. However, my father was enthusiastic about him, the two of them talked jovially together for more than an hour, and dad did his best to impress him with his sea adventures -like he always does. As about me, I did everything I could to make a negative impression to the bloke, bearing objections to anything he said. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to mind and he expressed the desire to see me again...

Wednesday, 1st February 1989

The truth is that I was not at all in the mood for meeting the vampire again, but the pressure from my parents, relatives and neighbours is incredible. Apart from that, I feel I must make my mind up and go steady with someone, even if it is someone I don't really like. Time flies, I am not a teenager anymore, and there is no sign of true love in view. So, I clenched my teeth and agreed to go out on a date with Tim last night.

At 8:00 o' clock in the evening we met in a crowded cafeteria in Glyfada. As soon as we sat at the table, Tim put on an air of importance and said: "I'll tell you something I haven't told anybody, not even my mother: I am not a simple worker in the factory, I am a shareholder!" and after a while: "I was asked to become a manager, but I didn't accept because I would be obliged to become a fink!".

He kept trying hard to prove what a remarkable person he is, but no matter what he was saying I couldn't stifle my disgust for him. On the other side, I feel obliged to go on seeing him. I am not getting any younger and I have to get married before it is too late...

Sunday, 5th February 1989

Last night I went on another date with Tim, in the same cafeteria, although I was feeling miserable -like a sheep being led to slaughter. The bloke probably got wind of my not being crazy about him and got sulky; yet, he offered me a red rose, one of those sold by a vagabond gipsy woman. This time he confided in me that his best friend is his mother and that if we finally got married, I would have to forget the rest of the world and socialize only with her, just like he does.

Anyway, due to lack of mutual interest, we split after an hour and a half and I didn't even remember to take the flower with me; I just left it on the table. He wished to meet me tonight too, but I said I couldn't. Finally, I agreed to see him again on Tuesday.

When I arrived home, I was so confused and uneasy that I sat on a chair from 1:00 to 2:30 am, lost in my thoughts, without even changing clothes...

Tuesday, 7th February 1989

Good news at last! The publisher Halaris phoned me this morning and asked me to meet him at his office tomorrow afternoon, so as to sign a contract for the publishing of my novel "The Conspiracy of Shadows"!

I am on cloud nine, however there is a thorn in my happiness: I have promised to call that jerk of Tim and arrange to go out with him this evening.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly, as soon as he heard my voice on the phone.

"To meet you tonight," I replied.

"So, you can meet me tonight?" he said ironically, and I understood: He bears a grudge because I avoid meeting him every day -as if we had some serious love affair.

"Yes," I answered flatly.

"We had better stop here!"

"As you want!" I said spontaneously, hardly believing my ears. Free at last! Free again! My relief is beyond words; I feel as if I've just escaped a death trap...

Wednesday, 8th February 1989

Probably the most important day of my life: Right after work, at about 4:30 in the afternoon, I arrived at the offices of Halaris Publishing. The people were friendly and the atmosphere seemed positive, yet I couldn't fight a certain nervousness.

"So young and you are a writer?" asked the middle-aged manageress at a moment.

"I am not so young," I answered in embarrassment.

The publisher showed up an hour later. He greeted me warmly, we discussed a few things about my book and we finally signed the contract, according to which my novel will be published by the end of the year.

When I left, I was overwhelmed with happiness; yet, I had no sooner reached the bus station than I was assailed by doubts: There was no seal of the company on the contract, which made me wonder about its validity. However, I soon dismissed all pessimistic thoughts and I allowed myself to revel in the unprecedented sense of success...

Thursday, 9th February 1989

Without actually realizing how, Mr Zafirakis started a conversation about arts, only to conclude with an air of irony: "I believe that all those who occupy themselves with arts such as painting, music, writing and that sort of thing, are dead losses. I mean, anybody can paint a picture, or compose a song, or write a novel if they put their mind to it. But this isn't what normal people do; normal people prefer to spend their time working!"

I considered his point of view completely irrational, but I pretended to agree with him. It is not wise to object against bosses and lunatics. Anyway, that statement of Lucas sounded quite odd, especially after my unhoped-for success of yesterday...

Saturday, 11th March 1989

Life is getting better and better: It's about a couple of months now that I have been keeping company with Louise Hoidas, an old schoolmate of mine I've known ever since we were in elementary school. We meet in the bus to work every morning, we talk a lot and that's how we finally became good friends. She is a jovial and friendly person, she displays a spirit of understanding about anything she hears. Moreover, she wins everybody's confidence with her optimism and innocence.

Louise has also introduced me not only to Nondas, her fiancé, but to her numerous friends as well, with whom we meet almost every Saturday night. For the first time in my life, I have the opportunity to go out with other young people and have lots of fun! We usually go to restaurants, cafeterias, theaters, cinemas, or disco clubs!

More often than not, Philip comes along too: He is a friend of Nondas and he is courting me all the time. I can't say he is ugly or bad, yet I'm not very fond of him – maybe because he has a long beard and he tends to overreact: He gesticulates a lot, he talks a lot, he laughs a lot, he says lots of insipid jokes.

Last night we all went to the disco "Oldies but Goodies", where they mostly play pop and rock music of the '60s and '70s. All at once, Philip pulled me by the hand and took me off to the dance floor. While we were dancing together his favourite love song, he was being rather flamboyant: He kept on making strange moves, and suddenly took my hands, raised them up and made sure we were dancing with our palms stuck together. I was very embarrassed, everybody was looking at us and I think we made a fool of ourselves. Then we danced a blues song and the bloke remarked that I wasn't mincing enough.

Later, after we had left the club and we were walking towards the taxi station, Philip approached me again and started jesting with me: "You don't know a thing about dancing and you are incapable of improving!" he remarked, smiling foolishly. I didn't get him wrong or anything, but I think he is a nuisance.

Chapter 23: Obsession

Monday, 27th March 1989

It's two weeks now that I've been possessed by a crazy idea: I intend to find my first love, George Franzis! So, day after day I've been searching for a long lost love: Firstly, I sought to find his telephone number in old and new directories. I've tried dozens of numbers in vain, until I saw 9630..., which seemed to be more probable. I have dialed it many times, but there is no answer.

This morning, on the bus to work, I happened to meet Ivy, with whom we were classmates in the first two classes of gymnasium. We talked about our careers, I told her I work in an import company and she told me she has studied Chemistry but she works in a big bank. Then I brought up the subject of old schoolmates and George Franzis; I was exhilarated when I heard that George has returned to Greece after completing his studies of business management in America. I even talked her into giving me his phone number, which is indeed 9630...!

... For the next ten days I keep trying to find George on the phone, but nobody ever answers at the above mentioned number. I will also discover his address: He lives in a nice house near our old school. I often go there and wait patiently outside, for George to come out. Yet, the doors and windows of the house remain stubbornly shut. I have only noticed the name of the next door neighbour, which is clearly written on the mailbox: Mrs Margaret Bogris.

Friday, 7th April 1989

It seems I have been seeing "ghosts" lately, that is persons who look like George or Rosita, his elder sister. Sometimes I even dare stalk these persons for a while! It usually takes me some time to figure out that they are just complete strangers.

This morning I met Louise on the bus to work; I thought twice before doing it, but I finally couldn't hold myself in and showed her a young man who was sitting opposite us:

"Look at him, he reminds me of someone: Isn't he George Franzis, our old classmate?" I asked with an assumed air of indifference.

"No, Yvonne, this is not George, he just resembles him a little! George isn't so dark-skinned!" retorted Louise at once, and I saw that she was right.

Thursday, 13th April 1989

It was a few days ago, on the bus to work again, when I first noticed a beautiful young woman with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. I've been thinking about it and I am almost certain it is Rosita; I intend to get acquainted with her, so as to reach her brother eventually.

This morning I went to the bus-stop earlier than usual. I stood by the corner and watched her for a few minutes, while she was approaching. When the bus came, I took care to sit opposite her, so that I could observe her facial features more carefully. After a while it was clear to me that it was not Rosita, although she looks like her a lot. Then, all of a sudden, the young woman turned and looked at me in terror – obviously she had just realized I had been watching her. Poor girl, I must have frightened her out of her wits!

As for the rest: It is two months now that Alice has opened a haberdasher's, although she is pregnant. This means that my parents and I are always on the alert to run and help her, not only with the household chores but with the shop as well. As about Antony, he doesn't even deign to come and have a look. Therefore, Alice asked my father to leave his morning job as a paint-store assistant and undertake her haberdasher's -without being paid, of course. In the end, my father quit his job a few days ago, so as to satisfy the needs of her Majesty the Queen Alice. However, this evening my sister announced that she won't "hire" dad, on the grounds that "he will interfere in my affairs too much," as she said.

Saturday, 22nd April 1989

A bolt from the blue: My sister and Antony have just separated (once again) after lots of quarrels, fights, beatings and other happy incidents. We are all overwhelmed by her tragedy, while she is in urgent need of moral and -mostly- financial aid, especially now that she is pregnant. As a result, from now on my parents and I will have to career about all day so as to satisfy Alice's increasing needs, taking into account that she has just rented a small apartment on her own.

Anyway, I have the impression that her independence won't last long -as usual: The game "Separation - Tragedy - Reconciliation" takes place about twice a year, which means that she moves house twice a year. The general plot is as follows: Without even a clear reason, the couple make feathers fly, Antony beats up my sister, she goes away and rents a house on her own. Then, the repentant husband goes and finds her, he cajoles her with sweet talk and flowers, Alice returns home, she abandons the house she had found for herself, and so on, until next time.

In any case, the duchess demands that we promptly run and help her with the enormous amount of work needed to be done every time she moves house. Needless to say, everybody (relatives, friends, neighbours) is constantly busy with Alice's problems. "But you have another child too," said cousin Dimitri to my father the other day, and only then did I realize the truth: One way or another, Alice has been absorbing all my parents' energy for decades now...

Saturday, 20th May 1989

Constantine, the nouveau riche husband of cousin Niki, has been thinking no end of himself lately: He used to be an employee in aluminum works, but now he has his own industry, as well as a night club on the road along the seaside -and all this within a year!

The fact is that Antony, who has already made up with Alice, desires to join the "elite" too. For this reason, he and my sister have been invited to dinner by Constantine tonight, so as to meet some of his estimable collaborators. Alice put on the sexiest outfit she could find (tight shorts with a flashy bust) and escorted her husband to the business meeting, all airs and graces.

Conclusion: It's a good thing that Antony won't finally agree to take part in all this. Before long we shall be informed that Constantine and his "collaborators" are involved in drug dealing! Yet, because of some mistake of his, Constantine will finally be betrayed by the "racket" and end up in prison! And then I wonder why my family has always been poor, while certain people become rich and successful in no time...

Monday, 22nd May 1989

As soon as I came back from work, Alice brought little Yanni for us to babysit till late at night -as usual. Despite that, she never misses an opportunity to show her contempt for me.

"Isn't there a nice guy to introduce to Yvonne? Antony has so many friends!" suggested mum at a moment.

"Antony's friends see Yvonne almost every day! If they liked her, they would have said something," answered my sister disdainfully. "Besides, I don't like their telling me that they don't fancy Yvonne!"

"How can you be sure they don't fancy her?" wondered mum.

"But can't you see how awful she looks?"

"This is what I look like, take it or leave it!" I popped in.

"Everybody leaves it!" wound up Alice, with an air of one hundred Hollywood stars.

Wednesday, 14th June 1989

Good news at last: The publishing of my book has already started! A few days ago I was given the corrected rolls and this afternoon I returned them with a few more corrections. I also gave them a cover, which is a water-colour painting made by me: It depicts a mysterious landscape with pyramids and the red-haired protagonist in the foreground. As far as the manageress told me, they can process it on the computer so that it will appear as a real work of art. I can say I have enjoyed the whole procedure, yet I wonder: Isn't it the publisher's job to find covers for the books he publishes?

Monday, 3rd July 1989

Before the break of dawn, after a very painful delivery since the umbilical cord was coiled around the baby, my sister gave birth to her second son today. The boy will take the name of our father, that is Josef.

The most remarkable event: When the baby was brought to her in the morning, Alice was most surprised to find out that he had changed sex! "You know, my child is a boy," she informed the nurse, who finally fetched my sister's baby boy, while the girl was returned to her mother.

As an expected consequence, Alice will have to close her shop shortly, although it makes enough money. Anyway, now with the baby, my mother and I will have a lot more work to do...

Sunday, 16th July 1989

My incredible love story goes on: A few days ago the telephone number 9630... answered at last! Yet, all I could hear was two infants' voices that didn't make any sense. I asked to talk to George Franzis, they told me to "hold on a minute", I waited for almost half an hour, but there was no one there to speak with me! During this week I tried three more times, but the result was the same.

Still refusing to face reality, this afternoon I finally decided to talk to Louise about this matter and ask her to help me by using her numerous acquaintances from high school. To my great relief, she agreed happily: "I can understand, Yvonne; till recently I was also in love with another classmate of ours, Gerry, if you remember! Don't worry, I'll be happy to help you find George!"

However, when Louise dialed the above mentioned number, the same two infants answered the phone; when she asked for George, they shouted at her in unison: "I am George Franzis!"

Saturday, 22nd July 1989

Yet, the more fate opposes me, the more stubborn I get: Suspecting that George might have changed phone numbers after so many years, this morning I searched and found Mrs Bogris' telephone number in the yellow pages.

As soon as she answered the phone, I assumed an air of innocence and asked to speak to Mr George Franzis. The woman explained to me politely that he lives right next door and that I have the wrong number. However, she refused to give me the correct one...

Friday, 11th August 1989

The summer is almost gone and the boss is playing possum: It is already crystal clear to me that Lucas has no intention of giving me the summer leave I am entitled to, although this is the only month of the year that we hardly have any work to do in the office.

This morning, I dropped a hint about this subject once again, but he kept harping on the same string: "I won't be able to give you a leave next week, because I must go to the village; neither the week after the next, because my wife wants me to go to the village with her, and someone must stay in the office," he said with an air of irony.

"Next week I won't be able to come to the office, because I have already bought the tickets for my vacations!" I lied to him.

For a few moments Zafirakis was flabbergasted, as if he couldn't believe his ears. Then, he started shouting, wild with anger: "What are you talking about, Yvonne? This is impossible! Up to now you have given me a different impression, I thought you were somebody I could rely on! But now I see another Yvonne before me!"

"I can't understand why you wonder," I replied as calm as possible. "I think this is the best for both of us, since August is the only month that all Italian companies close for summer vacations, so we have no work at all. Yet, you keep on postponing my leave with various excuses..."

"We are going to have lots of work this month! This means that I will have to hire another secretary for the time you will be away! I will be financially ruined because of you!" he retorted, all nerves.

"Certain people should be thanking God for having a job! Instead, they want vacations!" Mrs Stasa popped up.

Suddenly, I was about to burst into tears, although I knew those two were talking nonsense. Anyway, I didn't expect such a negative reaction and I didn't want to be on bad terms with the boss; therefore, I considered it good to beat a strategic retreat:

"I didn't know there will be so much work to do, especially this month; in this case, I will give back the tickets and I won't go on holidays," I said with a trembling voice.

"Oh, no, you will go on your precious holidays now! Nevertheless, you should know that normally it is the boss who decides when the employee goes on vacations!Moreover, don't forget that most bosses don't content themselves with clerical work from their secretaries! They demand more things!"

Certainly, that was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the always prim and proper Mr Zafirakis. I just stayed there numb, looking at him with confused, tearful eyes.

"Yes, Yvonne, this is the case: Apart from answering the phone and typing invoices, secretaries have to offer other, more special services to their bosses! Do you think that everybody is as easily contented as I am?" wound up Lucas, with a sly look in his eyes.

After that blasting, I asked permission to go out for a while. I spent the next twenty minutes walking around with tears in my eyes...

Wednesday, 16th August 1989

This morning Lucas brought another girl to the office, obviously an acquaintance of his, who will sub for me from the 21st to the 31st of August that I will be absent. Her name is Maria, and she is a twenty-year-old super ambitious crank who thinks she is an executive of great caliber: "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't stay here for an hour!" she boasted off with an air of arrogance, as soon as we were left alone. "Till recently I used to work in a big company, where work was extremely demanding: You couldn't linger for one moment and there was always something new to learn! As far as I can see, nothing special ever happens here, and I am not a loser, I intend to succeed in my life!"

Monday, 21st – Friday, 25th August 1989

Holidays in Perdika, a seaside village on the island of Aegina, together with my parents: We are staying in a traditional hotel, which is not at all bad. Yet, I have a problem because all three of us are staying in a small room: Dad snores all night long, he sounds like a locomotive and I can hardly get any sleep at night. Luckily, we have found some company: We've met a family of neighbours who happen to have their cottage here, so we aren't bored. Every morning we go swimming to nearby beaches; in the evenings we gather in their veranda or we walk around the village.

I would have a much nicer time if I weren't obsessed with work: I feel miserable all the time and I can never calm down, day or night. I keep bringing to mind the incredible situations I usually face in the office, the permanent hostility of the working environment and the endless demands of the boss: He wants me to work continuously, without ever taking a leave, always with the basic salary, while he will be assigning more and more tasks to me. I also keep thinking about the reprisals I'm going to face when I return to the office in September...

However, in the last morning of my vacations, a revolutionary idea suddenly occurs to me: Leave Vinomec for good and open my own office of typings and translations in the centre of Athens. I feel much better already...

Monday, 4th September 1989

As I returned to work this morning, Maria informed me the following: During the days of my absence, there was no work at all; there was nothing for her to do, she was bored to death and the office reminded of a cemetery -which was absolutely normal for this period.

In a few words, Lucas went to the trouble of hiring another secretary for fifteen days only, just because he wanted to show me how irresponsible it was of me to ask for a leave in the super busy month of August...

Monday, 18th September 1989

Louise has tried many times to organize a gathering of old classmates (including George Franzis), but up to now it has been impossible for her to find any of them on the phone, she says. The fact is that as time goes by and I don't get any closer to my goal, I get more and more frustrated.

After months of vain search for a lost love, this morning I felt so disappointed that I didn't hesitate to do something crazy: I took a "sick leave" from work and went to the high school of Glyfada in order to ask for Rosita's address and phone number!

"I am looking for an old friend of mine, Rosita Franzis, whom I lost years ago but I must find again!" I said to the astonished masters, who showed unexpected understanding and started searching in the old lists of pupils right away. A little later, they said they were sorry to inform me that there is no record of that pupil after so many years.

Then, as if I were an automaton, I bent my steps to the Town Hall, where a similar scene was repeated...

Wednesday, 20th September 1989

I am on holidays and I am luxuriating in the sunshine, the golden beach, the clear water of the sea. The bright sun rays are sparkling on the azure, lacy sea waves. The landscape is magical.

George Franzis is with me; he is sweet, charming, tall and slender, with shiny brown eyes – just like then, when we were both in the second class of gymnasium. He is perfect and he is mine. We are in love and very happy together. We kiss gently, and I know this is a sign of our meeting again.

Just then I wake up with a unique sense of bliss in my heart. What a wonderful dream that was...

Thursday, 21st September 1989

An unexpected solution to my problem was given this morning by Theone, a neighbour and good friend of ours, a poor woman who works as a domestic help. While we were chatting, it was casually revealed that she often goes to Mrs Bogris' house and does the housework! What a paranoiac coincidence! Without hesitation, I seized the opportunity and asked her to fish information about George Franzis. "Why, didn't you finish your affairs when you were in gymnasium?" she wondered and laughed exuberantly, while I was in seventh heaven.

Monday, 25th September 1989

"George is studying business management in America. He is engaged to a Greek woman and he will marry her soon. He will never return to Greece again."

That was the news Theoni brought me this evening.

So, this is the end. I can see now that all this chase of an old-lost love was nothing but a wild goose chase. Yet, I wonder: Why was I possessed by such paranoia, twelve years after losing George? Maybe because deep inside I know that during my whole life there will be no other love for me. I know that my life will go on in absolute loneliness, following its own weird path...

Chapter 24: Life goes on...

Friday, 29th September 1989

It was a very important day for me today: With an air of determination, I took a deep breath and announced Lucas my intention of leaving his company at the end of next month "for personal reasons", which I strongly refused to reveal no matter how much the boss whined.

... During the whole month of October, numerous girls will appear at the office, applying for my position. Needless to say, it will prove to be impossible for Lucas to find a secretary who is as cheap as I am, or efficient enough to do well in his special test in foreign languages.

"Such difficult tests are not given anywhere, not even in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs!" said a candidate who had studied Literature in Italy.

Finally, Zafirakis will hire a sedate girl who has studied Psychology in Italy and demands nothing more than the basic salary...

Saturday, 2nd December 1989

It's been a month now since I opened my own office of typings and translations, after I had found a cheap place to rent near Omonia Square. For the time being I don't have many clients but my fixed costs are very low, so I am not particularly worried. Anyway, I like this job a lot better than working in a company. In fact, I think that being an employee has never been my cup of tea...

As about my friendship with Louise, I can see it is not unclouded any more: Little by little she is alienating herself from me; we hardly go out together, or even meet anymore. This is probably due to the fact that she prefers to see Nondas, her boyfriend, more frequently. We occasionally go out together, the three of us; I don't really like this, it seems to me that I play gooseberry.

Nevertheless, every now and then she promises to introduce me to this or that handsome friend of hers, which actually never happens. Besides, whenever I confide in her that I like someone from her party, she says that he is a dead loss and takes care that we never get in touch with that person again.

About a month ago I told Louise that I like Takis: He is a tall, slender guy with blond hair and blue eyes, a serious and sensible person who happens to be a friend of her fat, disagreeable brother. We haven't met Takis or the others ever since. In fact, I haven't seen the guy more than three times in all. On the other hand, Louise insists on my going steady with Harry, a plump silly boy who is the laughing stock of the whole party. "The more I look at you both, I more I see you are a matching couple!" she told me, in an equivocal manner, the other day.

This evening I called her once again and asked her to arrange an outing with the other guys as well, but she refused at once: "Unfortunately I can't, I have no time for that. Besides, I don't see the others anymore, and they have been complaining: ''You neglect us because you have other friends now'', they say to me!" she excused herself, meaning she prefers me to them. Yet, I know that nothing could be further from the truth...

Monday, 18th December 1989

After a lot of wavering, I decided to take the initiative and communicate with Halaris by phone, since I haven't had any news from him for months now – that is ever since I gave the corrected rolls back.

I arranged to meet the publisher this afternoon, at a certain address he gave me. When I got there, I was surprised to see that their new head offices are in a luxurious eight-storeyed edifice not far from Syntagma Square. This must be a really thriving business! Yet, their books are not so renowned, I wondered at first but dismissed all negatives thoughts immediately, reckoning that the rapid development of Halaris Publishing could mean something positive for me as well. Besides, the change of address could also justify the delay in the publishing of my book. Finally, we signed an extension of time until the end of 1990.

In the long run, Halaris will never come in contact with me again and "The Conspiracy of Shadows" will never be published. It will take me many years to realize that the whole thing was part of the publisher's scheme to show a great number of books under publishing, so as to get a subsidy from the European Union. Nevertheless, two years later Halaris Publishing will go bankrupt and close for good...

Tuesday, 16th January 1990

Business has been looking up lately. Week after week I earn more and more money, which makes me feel satisfied. My most important client is the famous publishing house "Pangaea", which publishes books of science and literature. They have given me a bulky "Lexicon of Scientific Terms" to type, which is a quite interesting book.

Taking into account that my income has increased, I have also decided to take out a life-assurance policy, although I have social security insurance too. This morning I contacted an agent of "EasyLife" and signed an insurance policy which offers extra medicare plus a retirement program. The latter will last 25 years and it will provide me with a good pension. Till then, I will have to pay 8000 drachmas per month as premium.

My little sister hastened to take out a similar policy as well, at my parents' expense of course, since they always indulge all her fancies. I have the impression that Alice is always seeking to copy me in every possible way, aspiring to be ahead of me some day...

Sunday, 20th January 1990

Last night I decided to go to the usual place in Glyfada and meet my supposed friends, although Louise didn't come along. I was given a cool welcome and they hardly spoke to me. Takis was absent. We finally went to a nice seaside tavern in Vouliagmeni, ten persons in all, and we sat at a big table.

Michael, Louise's brother, was there too, and he happened to be sitting on my left. All at once he laughed ironically and moved his chair away from mine and from the table, in a most ostentatious manner, making all those sitting on his left do likewise. In this way, the "gentleman" declared his abhorrence in me -non verbally yet clearly. As a result, all those hours we stayed in that taverna, there was a huge empty space on my left at the table, which looked very, very odd...

Wednesday, 21st February 1990

Time seems to be passing faster and faster, yet my life is always characterized by deathly immobility. That's why three months ago I decided to go to a match-making office in Athens. I have already met some would-be grooms, all of them ugly and disagreeable: One of them was 38 years old, divorced, fat and wayward; he wanted to split fifteen minutes after we had met in a cafeteria. He hardly waited for five more minutes, for me to eat up my ice cream. Another one had a squint and he was wearing huge glasses on his pock-marked face; moreover, he lisped badly. Two others, boring factory workers with no hair on their heads, made a wry face as soon as they saw me and wanted to split at once. Another one had only two fingers in his right hand and his mouse-like face didn't attract me at all; when we parted, he took care to shake my hand with his crippled one. Another one was comparatively good-looking, yet he put me off with his arrogance and his tendency to boast off continuously.

The short, hairless kiosk owner with the shrieking voice, whom I saw yesterday, was in a hurry to disappear fifteen minutes after we had met, because he had work to do, as he said. This afternoon, when I phoned the match-making office, I was informed that the bloke had complained about my clothes. The match maker advised me politely to avoid dresses and prefer "something more fashionable" (that is something more tarty) when I meet the princes. On the other hand, "I hope you aren't interested in the man's appearance," she says again and again.

I think I had better quit these silly meetings. I am certainly not in the mood for losing my time with all kinds of screwy persons. Anyway, I suspect that marriage with an ugly, problem guy is not at all what I really want from my life...

Monday, 26th February 1990

Right from the first months of his life, little Josef has proved to be a very wayward baby, all nerves and whining. He was only five months old when he uttered he first word: It was neither "mum", nor "dad"; it was "bad": His father was rocking him playfully in his lap, asking him "What kind of boy are you?", when the baby started giggling "bad-bad-bad!". When he doesn't want to eat, he looks away and grits his few teeth in exasperation. If he doesn't like something, that is often, he clenches his fists and shakes all over. When he sees anybody, he extends one or both his hands threateningly and shouts: "Da-da! Da-da!". He is also extremely naughty: This morning he managed to climb up the net walls of his playpen and jump out of it!

From now on we must be always on the alert and never lose sight of Josef, lest he should climb on the television, or break a window pane, or upset the sitting-room table, or destroy the rolling shutters with his tiny hands – and all these events are meant to happen during the months to follow...

Tuesday, 27th February 1990

On the contrary, Yanni is growing into a very sweet child. Since his mother works, this is his second year in the kindergarten.

"Tell us Yanni, are there any beautiful girls in your class?" aunt Penelope asked him this afternoon.

"No, there aren't. I don't like girls!" he answered solemnly.

"You don't like girls?" I wondered.

"No! I like women!"

"He will get into trouble very soon!" aunt Penelope concluded, with her usual enigmatic smile.

Wednesday, 28th February 1990

In the meantime, my friendship with Louise has been going downhill. He haven't met for over a month now. I have called her many times but it is always Michael who answers the phone, telling me that his sister is absent. I don't even see her in the bus anymore; she probably takes another one, so as not to meet me.

This morning I happened to see her at the bus station, after a long time. However, she avoided to sit next to me; she made herself comfortable in another seat, opposite me. As soon as we reached the bus terminus in Athens, she stood up hastily, she said goodbye coldly and got away at once, as if we were strangers.

I suppose this is the end of our friendship and the only thing I can do about it, is wonder: If such a close friendship, with someone I've known since we were six, didn't work out, then what can I expect from other relationships in the future? In general, what can I expect from the future?

What future?

All I can see before me is darkness,

circles that close one after the other,

days that tumble down one upon the other,

as in vain I'm trying to ignore that

the days of hope belong to the past...

Chapter 25: Metaphysical Quest

Spring 1990

Years pass by very fast; I am almost 27 now and I have hardly realized I am that old. At this age, I should have already sorted out where my life is leading; however, there is no progress in any field, and there never will be -I know. Let's face it, there is nothing here for me. Therefore, I think it is high time I did what I have been postponing for years: Take the path towards the inside...

From the beginning of March I have started to attend parapsychology lessons in a school of spiritual development called "Janus". Although it is in Kypseli, very far away from Glyfada, I am eager to go there once a week, defying the exhaustion from the double bus journey to and from Athens: Since I still work in my office near Omonia Square in the mornings, every Wednesday -when I go to Janus- I spend six or seven hours of commuting in all. However, I don't mind because I feel there are new spiritual horizons opening for me there. The fact is that metaphysics really excites me, and it is the first time in my life I am excited about something.

The lessons include teachings of the guru Alexander Romanos regarding the evolution of the soul, the domination of the subconscious in a man's life, methods of relaxation and meditation, the awakening of telepathy and so on. The guru is gifted with a lot of eloquence, he knows well the art of persuasion, he is said to possess psychic powers, and he doesn't hesitate to go against the dominant dogmas of metaphysics. For instance, he doesn't believe in the theory of karma – in contrast to all the other schools of spiritual development.

We have already learned a basic technique of relaxation, which can be applied either sitting on a chair or lying in bed, as long as the spinal cord is kept straight: In the beginning, we relax our body from toe to top, giving the respective mental orders to each body part separately. For instance: "My feet relax" ... "My calves relax" ... "My thighs relax" ... and so on, to the head. Then, always mentally, we countdown from 10 to 1, ordering ourselves to relax after each number -for example: "10: I relax, I relax" ... "9: I relax deeper" ... "8: Deeper and deeper" ... "7: No external noise interrupts my relaxation" and so on, till you reach 1. When we reach zero, we enter the "void space", where we let no thought or feeling come inside us. We stay there, in absolute tranquility, for as much time as we can.

Alternatively, after staying in "void space" for a while, we choose a subject and meditate on it as thoroughly as possible, taking into account events, thoughts, feelings, ways of action; after the awakening, we write everything in a notebook.

The awakening is done by counting slowly from 1 to 5, while ordering ourselves to wake up with all our senses on the alert. After the number 5, we open our eyes and stand up at our ease.

By following this specific technique, the subconscious gets clearer and clearer; later on, as we keep practicing, the unconscious reveals itself too, unfolding great cosmic truths which could lead even to enlightenment.

When we finish the lesson, some of the guys gather together and we go for a coffee to Fokionos Negri Square, where we discuss lots of controversial but interesting subjects: parapsychology, spiritual development, magic, social matters, etc. Some of us meet on Saturday nights too. I can barely believe what's happening to me: It is me who goes out every Saturday night, having fun in tavernas, cafeterias and pubs, together with an interesting, large company! I experience and enjoy my new reality to the fullest, even if sometimes I feel that the atmosphere around me is strangely tense...

From the company of Janus I especially like Apostolis: He is 25 years old, tall, slender, calm and sensible -unlike most guys I know. I show him my interest at every opportunity, he doesn't seem to respond but I, as usual, refuse to acknowledge the bitter truth. Only once did he accept to go out with me, just the two of us, because he thought he could persuade me to take out a life assurance policy by the insurance company he works for; I pretended to care only because I hoped I could start dating him. Another time, I phoned him and suggested our going to the cinema together. "I have other plans for today", he answered flatly. Since then, any time we meet together with the others, he looks rather buttoned-up towards me but very friendly to Danae, who is eight years younger than me and much richer. Nevertheless, I still hope...

Friday, 29th July 1990

Every year "Pangaea" remains closed during the whole month of August, which is very convenient to me: I won't have to fight in order to get my summer leave! I have already arranged to spend a week abroad: I will go to Dalmatia with a travel agency and the group leaves tomorrow. Of course, first I finished typing all the texts given to me, I delivered them to Mary Bonanos yesterday (she happens to work for Pangaea too) and I explained to her I wouldn't be able to type any more this month – that is, they will have to do without me for three days. She bore no objection, since the company is about to close, anyway.

This morning, however, I had an entirely unexpected phone call; as soon as I picked up the receiver, I heard a very angry woman's voice telling me:

"Listen, Yvonne, I am Mary from Pangaea and I am furious at you! You left us three days before the end of July, while there is still so much work to do! And don't forget that I was the one who talked to the bosses and they hired you as a typist!"

For a moment I was speechless; then I answered calmly that "I thought there wasn't so much work to do and that I could leave..."

"What are you talking about? There are whole volumes of our new encyclopedia waiting to be typed! You hear? Whole volumes!" she interrupted, outraged.

"Yes, but I'm leaving for Yugoslavia tomorrow! What can I do?"

"Find us another typist, one who can sub for you during these three days that you won't be working for us!"

"Alright, I will try" I replied hastily, just because I wanted get rid of her as soon as possible.

"And make sure she is educated, not an illiterate one, you understand?"

"Yes, alright..."

I thought about Mrs Georgia, a schoolmate in Janus, who also happens to be a typist. I came in contact with her at once, I told her all about it and asked her to visit the company tomorrow morning. She expressed her wonder about the whole story, she was even worried "But what if they hire me and fire you?" but I insisted on her going there, because I didn't want to displease Mary Bonanos and the bosses of Pangaea.

Wednesday, 10th August 1990

The trip to Dalmatia proved to be a fiasco: The group consisted of some boring old people, and the prima donna was a black-dressed middle-aged shrew who wouldn't miss a chance to show off her knowledge in everything, while the others were admiring and applauding her. The only company I managed to find was a 42-year-old divorced lady with her 5-year-old son. She told me she had two adult daughters as well, and that she had given birth to that boy so as to keep her aged lover -yet he got away. So, the lady was always in a bad mood, she didn't have much to say, but she dropped me certain hints every now and then: "I don't know if you are still in the market, but I am not", or "Do you mind your that you didn't get married?" - as if I were some 50-year-old spinster.

Moreover, I was unlucky enough to share the room with an old neurasthenic who swallowed the sleeping pills by the dozen, yet she couldn't get any sleep and when the morning came she started complaining to me:

"Aren't you ashamed at all? You look at your watch, at 6:30, before the day breaks, then you put it on the bedside table and the noise wakes me up! Shame on you!"

"Eeeeh, I'm sorry!"

"And you snore all night long and you don't let me sleep!"

The hen got on my nerves with her hysteria; first of all, I don't snore; then, every morning we had to be at the foyer by 7:00, ready for the tour of the day.

After a couple of such incidents, I went to the reception and asked to be given a single room, but there were no such rooms in the hotel, I was told. I complained about that to the travel agent, to no avail of course, everybody in the group got wind of the situation, and in the end they were all fond of the old neurasthenic, while they looked askance at me.

Anyway, I saw some beautiful places as well: Herceg Novi, Kotor, Cetinje, Mostar, Dubrovnik, Budva, Saint Stephen. However, the good impressions were blemished by the four exhausting days (two to go and two to return) in the small but packed ship.

This morning I phoned Georgia and asked her about her collaboration with Pangaea. To my great astonishment, she informed me that they didn't need her at all and that they were surprised to see her!

Monday, 3rd September 1990

Pangaea is open again for the first day after the summer holidays, and I went to find Mary Bonanos in her office.

"How are things, Mary?" I asked smiling. "Did you have any problem during those days I was away? I sent you another typist, like you told me on the phone, but she said that you didn't need her at all!"

"What? I never phoned you!" she replied astounded.

"But you called me on the 29th of July and you said that..."

"It wasn't me! It was probably Mary Skina!"

Right at that moment, Mary Skina happened to enter the office and, full of joy and laughs, confirmed it was her who had phoned me!

"So, it was you," I told her solemnly. "I thought it was Mary Bonanos, that's why I was worried! You introduced yourself as ''Mary from Pangaea'', and your voices are alike..."

"Oh, no, it was me!" she repeated, with an innocent smile on her face.

If I had known it was Skina on the phone then, I would have acted differently and, of course, I wouldn't have involved Georgia. Mary Skina is an old maid who works as a typist inside the company; she is a little nutty, she tends to overreact and all she thinks about is how to do as little work as possible. She is not to be taken into account...

* * * *

Tuesday, 1st January 1991

Like every year on New Year's Eve, last night we played cards after dinner, according to the custom. When my turn came, I cut the cards and Alice started sharing them; I suddenly thought of an ace of hearts and I got an ace of hearts! A few moments later, I had another premonition:

"Let's see who will share next! Who finds the smallest number will!" said Costas, cousin Niki's husband, while shuffling the cards.

Antony, who was sitting next to me, got an ace.

"Is it an ace of hearts?" I asked.

It was an ace of hearts.

Later, as we were playing the game "twenty-one", I managed to guess the cards I received first in every round: ten of spades, three of diamonds, two of hearts, four of spades instead of four of wands, six of diamonds instead of six of hearts. For a few seconds I could see them being shaped on the white wall opposite me! However, after a while my telepathy started to wane and I could no longer guess right...

Sunday, 6th January 1991

Last night I went out with the guys from Janus and we went to Plaka for crepes. I am still interested in Apostolis, he is always fascinating, and maybe he cares about me: Many times his legs touched mine (casually?). All at once he took my hand in his so as to have a look at my ring, as he said. However, deep inside I know nothing else is going to happen...

Yesterday I didn't hesitate to talk to my friends about my doubts regarding Alexander's teachings. How shall I follow the way of apprenticeship, unless I trust the guru completely? I even explained to them my recent suspicion about an imminent mutation of the human species. All these things we do -meditations, telepathy experiments and the like- what are they if not attempts to transcend nature? Besides, if those "doors" should be open, would they be so difficult to open?

The point is I have already started to question the "traditional metaphysics" most spiritual masters stand for. After all, nothing can be certain: Meditation and relaxation techniques guarantee no results, no matter how often someone practices them. "Do not expect any specific result" says the guru again and again. What should we expect, really?

Spiritual leaders talk a lot and they all say the same: They show contempt to the world of matter and they propagandize abstinence from any demonstration of life: "Don't talk, don't protest, don't judge, don't desire, don't be happy, don't be sorry, don't be angry, don't be afraid, don't even think!". Of course, I don't believe it is possible to achieve this condition of non-existence while living, but I can't imagine what purpose such ideals serve. All these "wise men", with their suspiciously confusing teachings, give me the impression they hide something. Sometimes they use rhetorical tricks to taunt their disciples, sometimes they just say nonsense, other times they deliberately say and unsay just to cause agitation -and all this contrary to the old saw: Those who know don't speak; those who speak don't know. Real knowledge isn't taught anywhere. Only personal experience can lead to real knowledge. Second-hand knowledge is good only for devout stooges who take pleasure in showing off their allegiance to a master...

Wednesday, 9th January, 1991

After the failure of the negotiations in Geneva, the situation in Iraq is getting worse and worse. A million of American soldiers are ready to go to war. The Greek warship "Lemnos" has departed. The Iraqi threaten to strike Israel and they refuse to leave Kuwait. Some fear this war could become a world war. Yet, I suspect all this has been premeditated and planned in advance -just like everything else in the world.

All at once the future looks bleak, as it is getting clearer and clearer how little we can really control our lives. The average citizen's existence depends mostly on the whims of the elite. Maybe Alexander is right when he says that nothing really ever changes: Our ''liberties'' have not been "gained with fight" -as we like to believe- but granted by the elite because it serves their interests for the time being. However, if they suddenly decide that a different policy serves their interests best, we shall lose all liberties immediately -and nobody will dare protest. As we are approaching the End of Times, there is no progress in any field: We tend to postpone whatever we want to do, and if we finally do it, it brings no significant result. Strange, though: I thought this was a characteristic of my life only...

Wednesday, 16th January 1991

When I went to Janus this afternoon, for the first time after Christmas holidays, I found out that my class no longer exists. Most disciples have "moved up" to the advanced class of Tuesday, although the guru had claimed something like that would be extremely difficult: "If someone fails (in what, really?) two or three times, they won't move up!" were his words. Nevertheless, Manolis has changed class just because his working hours don't allow him to come another day. As about me, I wasn't admitted to the advanced class because I didn't show enough self-confidence, says the guru. I also need to listen more, he claims, since "good disciples have no beliefs of their own, they obey the guru in any case" -and this is not what I usually do.

Anyway, very few of my old class will remain in the "retarded" group of Thursday, and I am one of those few. Really now, are all those who were admitted to the advanced class so much better than me? Something is wrong here. I believe Alexander chooses the "advanced ones" with only one criterion: how obedient they seem to be towards him. I also suspect I am not wanted here, probably because I sometimes question the guru's teachings openly. Maybe those persons I consider my friends go and tell Alexander everything I confide to them...

Tomorrow is Thursday and I will go to Janus again, this time in my new class. I shall see who's left in there, I shall feel the atmosphere, and soon I will decide if I will keep on attending Janus or find another school of metaphysics.

Thursday, 17th January 1991

This evening there was a heated argument at Janus, regarding the war in the Persian Gulf: The allies of America keep bombarding Iraq relentlessly, while the Iraqi don't react anyhow. They could have intercepted many blows but, strangely enough, they didn't. To retaliate, the Iraqi are bombarding Israel; however, there are very few victims, mostly because of their own negligence or panic. Israel could have intercepted the missiles but it didn't; why, indeed?

"They are preparing something else, something a lot bigger; maybe Iraq is to be sacrificed for the game of the Great Powers, which is just beginning. The Apocalypse is coming, as most ''signs'' have already appeared: Global environmental pollution, war in many countries, forest fires everywhere etc. Moreover, most ancient prophecies agree: Everything will end in 1999," claims the guru passionately.

Anyway, Alexander got on my nerves again: When I raised my hand and tried to express my opinion about the war, just like many others had done before me, he interrupted me scornfully saying the subject was over -right at the moment when I started talking. He didn't answer to what I said, nor did he let anyone else reply. He just sought to shut me up in a rather offensive manner. He doesn't like me because I don't worship him as a god, like many others do...

Saturday, 19th January 1991

No meditation today. It is impossible for me to find a moment of quiet in this house! It is weird, indeed: Any time I try to meditate, there is always some noise which prevents me from relaxing enough -even during the hours of peace: Alice's naughty children come in and out of the house all the time; neighbours yell outside; there is loud music -and so on. Not even in the bus can I relax, as there are always certain persons near me who make a lot of noise: Some chat at top voice continuously; others clatter their keys in a most ostentatious manner; others play with their string of beads maniacally; it a never-ending sonic war...

Monday, 4th February 1991

This evening my class had a celebration at Janus, and it so happened it was also Alexander's birthday today. For this reason we bought him a huge birthday card, where we all wrote our wishes. Instead of a present, he asked to be given some money because, as he says, he prefers it to a meaningless consumer gift.

We made a buffet and we all sat down on our hunkers, after we had removed the chairs. Only Alexander sat on his chair near the window and, under his guidance, we had a team psychoanalysis based on our sexual preferences and fantasies: Danae admitted she has been thinking about becoming a lesbian, due to her disappointment from men; Theano declared her first sexual relationship was with a woman; Christos confessed that his first time was with a man! Conclusion: We shouldn't judge the others according to a label, because we aren't so different as we think. For example, we have all had homosexual relationships or fantasies. Under certain circumstances, anyone can do anything.

Then there was a long discussion about matriarchy, and Vanessa was the leading lady. Alexander wasn't such a misogynist as he usually is. I said that "In our patriarchal society a woman can't develop her innate intuition, because man plays all the roles: he develops not only action (male) but intuition (female) as well. A woman can't be a real woman in a patriarchal society; it is as if she didn't exist at all." Paradoxically, the guru didn't hasten to interrupt or contradict me this time; he only smiled enigmatically.

A little later, we played "Courage or Truth". That sex-bomb of Aphrodite chose ''courage'' and she was riding for a striptease. Finally she was left only with her underwear on, and she could barely help disposing of it too. At the end, as she was getting out of the circle, she ''accidentally'' dropped her bra. Christos, who is quite good-looking, chose ''courage'' too and he was given two minutes time for a striptease. One minute and 45 seconds later he had only taken off his shoes. Yet, within the last 15 seconds he managed to take off all the rest, with fast, accurate, professional movements! He has a fine body indeed but... what was that really? A demonstration of liberation or what? His girlfriend, who is in our class too, complained that "The level of the class is getting lower and lower". Then, it was Aphrodite again who chose ''courage'' again and this time she had to make a declaration of love to Vanessa. Finally she made it clear to her that "I want to have sex with you!" and dropped her jacket on the floor with a theatrical movement.

When my turn came, I chose "truth", so I was bombarded with questions:

"Why are you so absolute in your opinions?" asked Mary, who belongs to the guru's close circle.

"I am not absolute in my opinions." I replied.

"What disappoints you most?" asked someone else.

"Hypocrisy"

"What gives you joy?"

"Young children make me happy."

"Do you believe there is love in the world?"

"There are different kinds of love," I answered diplomatically.

"Do you lead a happy life? What would make you feel complete?" asked Vanessa.

"In general, I consider myself happy; If I achieved inner tranquility and spiritual ascension, I would feel complete."

"What are your dreams?"

"I want to become rich and famous!" I joked, and that's when Alexander intervened:

"Do you want to become very rich and very famous?" he asked, while he was folding a napkin in four.

"Yes," I replied fast.

"Pinch here," he said and urged me to cut off a little piece from the spot where the napkin was folded.

"Are 50 million drachmas enough for you?" he asked then.

"No," I answered.

"Pinch a little more," he said and I obeyed.

"How about 100 million?"

"No," I joked on.

"Pinch again!"

After a few more questions, we reached a satisfactory sum of money: "Are two billion of drachmas enough?" he asked cunningly.

"I think they are enough!"

"Pinch a little more!"

After I had done so, Alexander unfolded the napkin. In its centre there was a huge hole. "This is what your ass will look like, by the time you are rich and famous, you poor thing!" he concluded tauntingly. Everybody burst into laughing, and so did I.

But that was not all; there were some more questions for me:

"How often do you make love?" Danae asked me.

"Often enough," I replied calmly but not sincerely.

"What was the size of the biggest and the smallest penis (!) you have ever dealt with?" Vangelis asked then, with a cunning look on his face.

"I don't measure the length of my lover's penis," I answered calmly.

"Why did Vangelis' question shock you?" asked Alexander then.

"The question didn't shock me; yet, I found it strange," I explained.

Really now, how should I have reacted to such a question?

All in all, the celebration was interesting, amusing, constructive. It was, maybe, the most pleasant social event I have ever been to. "If only Alexander weren't here," joked the guru at a moment.

Thursday, 7th February 1991

Lucid Dream: I am climbing a tree, so as to escape from rhinos and other beasts chasing me. Up there, I decide to meditate. Almost immediately, my body starts to hover but it is two-dimensional, as if inside a film, while I am trying to discern various scenes taking place behind a black veil. Suddenly, I am being carried away into a dark spectral tunnel. I am afraid, I want to resist and I finally manage to return to the original dream, up on the tree. I wake up with difficulty and anxiety...۩

The whole class carried out a telepathy experiment at Janus tonight: Alexander put an object on the reception table, right outside our classroom. Then we all relaxed, reached the "void space" and tried to "see" what it was. Many of us guessed almost right: the object was a white candle in a candlestick, placed on a small plate. I "saw" something oblong like a stick, with a cross on the upper part, standing on a circular base. Alexander considered it a success. He also told me that as he was passing by me during the relaxation exercise, he felt something like a shiver or an emotion...

Saturday, 9th February 1991

I have arranged to meet the guys and go to a Chinese restaurant tonight. I do have fun with them, going out with friends is a new experience to me, yet neither this time shall I avoid the usual hardship: I leave home at 19:40 and go to the bus-stop. Until 20:00 there is no bus to be seen. I take a taxi and get off at the bus-stop of Helioupolis. From there I take a bus to Athens. Ticket inspector. I find out, luckily before it's too late, that I have left my monthly pass at home. I get off quickly, I get on another bus and I finally make it to the centre of Athens. From there, I get on a third bus and arrive in Kypseli. Then it's a five-minute walk to Fokionos Negri Square, where our venue is. At least, I am on time: I meet my friends at 21:00 sharp.

Time to return: I take a taxi to the Columns of Olympian Zeus, in Athens. I am hardly on time to get on the 1:00 o' clock bus, which has its terminus in St Tryfon. From there I have to walk about fifteen minutes, in the middle of the night, while a drunken old man is following me, raving and vomiting, until I finally reach home.

Indeed, I wonder: Is all this fuss worth the while? Are these guys really my friends? Yet, they are my only choice for a social life. What else could I do? Stay at home and watch TV? Never mind; enjoy it while it lasts...

Sunday, 10th February 1991

Night Adventure: I am reading a beautiful poem about someone who travels all over the world and has lots of experiences, seeking the meaning of life. Finally, he returns home, near the fireplace, in tranquility and simplicity. The last verse I remember is something like "and then, the thoughts are coming...". All of a sudden, the piece of paper goes away and I wake up...۩

Today my parents were absent from the afternoon till late at night, because they were invited to dinner by old relatives. I wasn't in the mood of going too, so I stayed home alone and enjoyed some precious privacy. When my parents are around, I have the impression of being constantly watched. Especially my mother observes every move I make: how I act, how I talk, how I listen to music, even how I blink -and she complains about everything. Her situation is getting worse and worse, she likes nothing about me, probably because I am still single. Luckily, I will soon be living in my own house...

Thursday, 28th February 1991

Sensational news - piece one: Although she is an excellent pupil, Persephone has just quit school, just a few months before finishing the third class of Lyceum, because she is sick and tired of studying, she says. Anyway, I suspect there are other reasons too: In all probability, her classmates have been making fun of her because of her excessive obesity.

Piece two: My sister has recently had the bright idea of opening her own gym, in partnership with Milena, her best friend. With what qualifications, really? Neither of them is a professional gymnast! As about the huge capitals requested for renting the building and buying the equipment, wealthy Milena is willing to spare a certain sum of money, while penniless Alice wants to sell her house! Of course, since neither has a degree from the Physical Education College, they won't be able to get the necessary license, which means their gym will be illegal! Nevertheless, my parents don't even think of saying ''no'' to the princess. They always yield to every demand of hers, no matter how preposterous it is!

Anyway, this idea will finally be abandoned because Milena's parents (obviously more sensible) won't agree to spend so much money on an illegal enterprise. Thank God...

Sunday, 3rd March 1991

Night Adventure: A vast desert is gradually converted into an ocean, by use of magic, nuclear stations, special missiles, strange machines. There are lots of people at the beach now, and I am amongst them. I can hear a nice song coming from headphones: "In the Eye of the Hurricane".

After a while I am inside an immense ship of the future. Not everything is ideal in here: Thousands of people perform specific, slavish tasks for endless hours every day, and they all follow an identical way of life. I am watching a beautiful brunette, for whom the electronic computer has prearranged to live thousands of years, by alternating heads on different bodies. I find this perspective rather bleak...۩

And a premonition: In the second chapter of my new novel there is a protagonist called Rhodes, who steals 11 million units from a rich man; later, I change those 11 million units to 15 million. In today's episode of my favourite TV series, one of the main characters was called Rhodes, he mentioned a sum of 11 million pounds and 15 years of prison...

Tuesday, 12th March 1991

Aphrodite, the vivacious blonde who happens to be my classmate in Janus, has expressed the desire to know me better, as I was informed by Vanessa. So, this afternoon the three of us arranged to go for a coffee at Victoria Square. Aphrodite narrated some incidents from her life, which show she is gifted with innate telepathy. She also suggested we three should make a team of parapsychology experiments. This is not at all a bad idea! Aphrodite is impulsive, maybe light-minded, but not cunning -like some other people.

Later on, she invited us to her house, where we performed a telepathy experiment by using the Zener symbols. I didn't manage to concentrate, I only got 2/20; Vanessa got 4/20 and Aphrodite 7/20. Anyway, it's been years since I last had such a good time with friends.

The point is I feel a lot more comfortable with these girls, than with the others. When I am with Vanessa and Aphrodite, I speak more freely and I feel happier, since they accept me as I am; with them I can be myself. There is no problem among us, not even when I question the guru's theories; they don't believe in him blindly, either – in contrast to the others, who become hostile whenever I express the slightest doubt about Alexander's teachings, let alone they ridicule everything I say. Aphrodite and Vanessa don't make me act nervously or gibe stupidly at my own words – things which always happen when I am with the others. In the long run, we become what the others want us to be...

Chapter 26: Dead Ends

Monday, 18th March 1991

I can no longer ignore the facts: Once again, my job is reaching a dead end. The distance St Tryfon - Omonia Square is getting longer and longer because of the increasing traffic jam. It takes me about two hours to get to work every morning and two more hours to return home in the afternoon.

Moreover, I don't have many clients and there is almost no work during the summer months. As about Pangaea, they haven't given me a pay-rise so far, while their texts are getting more and more time-consuming, as they are rather illegible and full of corrections; therefore, the money is not satisfactory any more. On the other hand, the basic expenses (electric current, social security etc) are increasing, and so is competition: More and more freelance typists appear every day, opening new, luxurious offices equipped with expensive computers and Xerox machines. Naturally, clients prefer them to me, since I still work on an electric typewriter in a small office.

What shall I do? I can't even think of looking for a miserable office job in the Classified Ads. Is there a way out? Why is always so much stagnation in my life?

Saturday, 23rd March 1991

I went out with the guys yesterday evening. First we went to a creperie, then to a pub in Glyfada. I invited Aphrodite to come with us, but I'm afraid it was wrong: First of all, she delayed us a lot because of her negligence or frivolity; then she nervously monopolized all conversations, mostly saying nonsense. That was not the Aphrodite I know; maybe she was trying too much to make a good impression on the others. The fact is she can't fit in this company, and neither can I.

Besides, I often get the impression that something is wrong with these guys: Firstly, they always phone and invite me out just one and a half hour before the meeting time – which means I hardly have the time to get ready; as if they were doing it on purpose, hoping I would say ''sorry, I can't come because it's too late for me now''. Moreover, their behaviour towards me is usually enigmatic or, even, hostile.

Yesterday Danae was ironic to me because I gave her back the negatives of some photos without their paper envelope; yet, when she gave me those negatives, she told me she didn't care about them at all. Apostolis joked he would have a child with me only if I paid him one million drachmas; Manos laughed mockingly.

On the way back, at 1:30 o'clock after midnight, I asked Danae to take me in her car (five persons in all) and leave me at St Tryfon Square -barely a five-minute ride. She frowned and complained that the car was too small to carry five persons! I was ashamed and spoke no more. I am sure Danae doesn't like me at all, and I bet there is a lot of gossip behind my back. I don't think I will go on that trip to Chios with them next week...

Most people are ghosts: Last night I cried. Truth hurts, especially when you decide to face it after many years of delusion. Something is wrong. Everybody ignores me. This is and this will always be the main problem of my life. All the rest are just natural consequences. Everybody acts as if I didn't exist at all: When I am in the company of others, they either don't let me speak or interrupt me as soon as I start talking -as if I hadn't even begun speaking. My opinion is never taken into account, or it is shrugged off immediately, without the slightest explanation. Whenever I manage to speak openly to friends, I usually regret it at once, since every word I say is misunderstood -as if I were speaking a foreign language. I feel alone in the world, with few contacts only. To be precise, my only contact is my mother, with whom I do have some communication. Actually, she is my link to the human society...

When I am with others, I always feel a strong sense of alienation. Alien. It is always the same, no matter how I describe it. All people around me seem to be having a great time, spontaneously taking part in all kinds of entertainment. To me, such things have always been an ordeal. Everything seems boring and meaningless to me, because I never find any external response: I write books which will never be published, even if I were willing to pay. At work, I have no say; I am always the typist, just a cog in the machine. I try to accost certain men I like, but they never pay any attention to me. All my life is limited to a strictly personal field of action. Whenever I try to reach the others, the result it a complete failure.

No matter what I do, it is like shouting in the desert. The desert. This is the real face of my world. People come and go, voices, parties, laughs, throbbing life – but there is nothing here for me. Everything looks too distant and fictitious. All these "fellow-human beings" that surround me, could as well not exist at all. Maybe they do not really exist; they come alive only for a few deceitful words and an enigmatic smile, then they fade away like ghosts. Most people are ghosts, probably dangerous ghosts...

Saturday, 30th March 1991

Yesterday evening I set off for the island of Chios, together with my friends Apostolis, Danae and Manos. As soon as I arrived at the port of Piraeus, problems started to appear: The ship with the cabins, in which Apostolis had made reservations, proved not to be going to Chios at all! I definitely wanted to stay in a cabin, since it would be a ten-hour night voyage, so we asked in another ship but there were no cabins left! "Will you come with us, now?" Apostolis asked me, as I was standing before him with my baggage in hand. Strange question: Would he prefer my not coming at all? Finally, we all travelled together on the deck, under my woolen blanket, "like a big, happy family", as Danae joked.

This morning, after we disembarked at the port of Chios, a new misfortune was awaiting us: Soon we found out Apostolis' parents had changed the lock to the front door of their house, without his knowing; so, we had to wait in the car from 6:00 to 9:00, for an uncle of his to wake up and give us the new keys. I couldn't help wondering: couldn't Apostolis wake him up a little earlier, given the circumstances? Did we really have to wait in the car for three whole hours?

Anyway, despite our heavy drowsiness which lasted all day long, we had a pretty good time today: We saw the Mansions and the Monastery, and then we went for a walk along the seaside. Late at night we met some cousins of Apostolis in a nice cafeteria at the port.

Sunday, 31st March 1991

In the morning we visited the New Monastery (Nea Moni). The landscape is wild but fascinating, studded with gray rocks and ruined medieval houses. I am so close to him, and yet so far... So wonderful, yet so sad... Could it be better this way, for some strange reason?

When night came, I dreamt of George Franzis: We were drinking coffee together in a cafeteria, he looked gorgeous, as always; we were having a wonderful time together but, when I asked to meet him again, he refused! Interpretation: Probably George Franzis signifies Apostolis (they look alike), with whom I go out but we are only friends; he doesn't want anything else from me...

Holy Monday, 1st April 1991

This morning we visited Daskalopetra and took photographs in front of the big rock where Homer is supposed to have been teaching. Later, we had lunch in the seaside town of Lagada; When we finished and got out of the restaurant, I asked the guys to take a photo of the small picturesque river, full of small boats, which flows into the sea. They all refused in unison, suggesting "we had better leave it for tomorrow, when there will be more light." However, on the way back to the city of Chios, we stopped the car in the middle of nowhere in order to photograph a couple of blue church domes in the distance. There was "more light" there...

Later, at home, Manos questioned a saying of Nietzsche written on Danae's diary. The lady burst into tears (she is just not accustomed to being questioned) but soon she got over it. Later, we had a discussion about life after death, and I was naïve enough to declare that I can't feel sorry when somebody dies. "It seems to me you are a blockhead!" Apostolis told me, supposedly joking. Anyway, I didn't burst into crying...

Holy Tuesday, 2nd April 1991

Once again we had lunch in Lagada; this time we went to a taverna, where we ate fish and had a nice time. Yet, neither this time did we photograph the river because it was "dirty" and "very ugly", as they all said mockingly. Nevertheless, on the way back to the city, Apostolis asked Danae to stop the car, again in the middle of nowhere, so that he could take some photos of sea-gulls down at the seaside, about 300 metres away. "It's no big deal" I dared say and Danae applied the brakes all at once, stopping the car near the precipice. By the time we were out of the vehicle, the birds had flown away, so there were no photos taken. Anyway, it is now crystal clear to me that these persons don't take me into account at all, because they put me down as a complete idiot.

In the evening we went to the port and bought the tickets back home. Although I had explained to Apostolis I wished to be in a cabin this time, he mentioned nothing about it to the travel agent. Manos laughed mockingly and I didn't protest anyhow...

Holy Wednesday, 3rd April 1991

Return to Athens – that is ten endless hours of absolute boredom in the chill of the night. Nevertheless, I have been experiencing an awakening, all alone on the deck, while the others have been crouching on their chairs of the economy class, after a brief quarrel I have had with that wiseacre of Manos: It all began when the gentleman mocked that my jacket had been reduced to a "dusting cloth". Then, I went to the bar and took a cup of coffee; as soon as I returned, he told me tauntingly:

"Be careful or you will spill it on us!"

"Now that you say it, it could as well happen! It's a matter of basic psychology! You claim to know a lot about psychology, so I suppose you know this too!" I replied.

"Oh, don't start again!" complained Danae.

Moments of truth in absolute silence: These guys are certainly not my friends, and they never wanted me to join them on this trip. Not only during these days, but also whenever we meet in Athens they constantly make fun of me, they treat me as if I were a retard, and they ridicule every word I say.

It's high time I cut down on jokes and confessions to these persons, and I won't ask them the slightest favour ever again. For the time being, I will keep on seeing them, since I still need a circle of friends to go out with -but I won't be the same anymore: I will be serious, reticent, a diva.

Holy Thursday, 4th April 1991

Night Adventure: Alexander is angry at me and he is chasing me along the streets. He knows I am not loyal to him, since I keep my own ideas instead of obeying him completely. In the meanwhile, my parents have discovered everything about my interest in metaphysics and Janus. I end up at the edge of a steep precipice, the guru is approaching threateningly, and I am beset with agony. At that moment, I realize I am dreaming; I am looking at my hands -according to Castaneda's instructions for lucid dreaming- yet everything looks blurred and the sun is setting fast; however, I finally manage to fly away before Alexander catches me. Interpretation: Guilts and fear for the guru; or, maybe, a psychic attack from him against me? ...۩

In the afternoon, cousin Niki together with her husband and her two daughters, paid a visit to my sister. I, as usual, ran to join the party, ignoring the wry faces. At a moment that smart aleck of Costas said he got married young because he didn't want to lose his time and his life aimlessly; then he added that "singles suffer from softening of the brain" -a clear innuendo against me. I felt bad but I pretended I hadn't taken the offense. I guess, from now on I had better avoid parties consisted of couples...

Monday, 8th April 1991

I have been feeling the need of living alone lately. There is no peace and quiet in our house: As soon as I return from work and wish to relax and have a nap for an hour, here comes my sister with her two sons -both handfuls aged two and six now- and she parks them here, till late at night. Therefore, I explained my parents that I'm too old to be still living with them and that I need some privacy; then I asked them to inform the tenants of the first floor we want the apartment for ownership-occupancy.

"But... is this the right time for such initiatives?" wondered Antony, as soon as he heard about it. I can't say he is wrong: We won't be getting a rent any more, the times are hard indeed, but what can I do? I need to have my own space.

This afternoon my parents finished moving house. So, from now they will be occupying the first floor, while I will be living alone at the ground floor. When the night came, I watched an American comedy on TV. I laughed differently, freely, exuberantly. Alone at last!

Saturday, 13th April 1991

Night outing to Plaka together with Apostolis, Danae, Costas and Manos. We had dinner at a creperie, then we started looking for a pub. We searched all over Athens, but the lords liked none; we reached Glyfada in Danae's car, we searched again, to no avail. I decided to invite them to my house, so as to save the night. They accepted but they all looked enigmatic, as if hiding a secret or something.

A little later Danae suggested we should do a relaxation exercise and they all agreed happily (which got on my nerves; did we really have to?); then there was still and quiet, then we chatted till three o' clock in the morning.

I think they are all obsessed with the guru. At a moment they claimed they couldn't understand what I was saying, but I avoided to ask why and how; instead I kept my mouth shut -much better this way...

Saturday, 21st April 1991

The Sum of all Crises: Apostolis has gone steady with Danae! Last night, when we all went out together, as soon as I saw all those gestures of intimacy between them, I dropped from the clouds! I've never felt so miserable in my life! Their happy smiles and touches of affection, as they were walking hand in hand, caused me an insupportable feeling of jealousy for a happiness I am never meant to experience! As they said, they decided to become a couple the night of the 13th April, when I invited them to my place! They went steady inside my house!

I feel disappointed and supplanted, however I know well that the curious thing would be if Apostolis had preferred me instead of Danae. The truth is I am not attractive as a woman, since my body is still too thin, without any curves. On the other hand, there are other women who are a lot uglier than me (for example short and obese, full of rolls of fat under their skin), yet they marry the most handsome men. Besides that, my behaviour has no "feminine grace": I never resort to mincing or simpering, it doesn't come natural to me; on the contrary, I often present interests unacceptable for a female, such as parapsychology, life after death, the multidimensional universe etc, and men hate me for this. However, neither this can justify my loneliness, since the world is full of vixens who inspire crazy passions, despite their awful character.

I think there is an unconscious, mutual repulsion between me and men: They dislike me and I avoid them spontaneously. It seems there is a mysterious, invincible power inside me, which prevents me from having relationships with men, and the older I get the more I trust this power. Anyway, I've never had strong sexual desires: I have never pursued sex, I haven't masturbated even once in my whole life! I used to have some sexual fantasies with men, but they are getting rarer and rarer. They just don't come to me any more. In fact, I often think how simpler, clearer, nicer life would be, if sex didn't exist at all!

Thoughts like the above lead me to old, forgotten realizations: I do not belong to the human species. I am something different, and this alien nature of mine is getting more and more apparent, day after day. In all likelihood, this is the deepest reason why the human herd always has always been so hostile against me, constantly trying to keep me away from their world. Contrary to what Alexander trumpets forth, not everything can be explained according to "engrams on the subconscious". Especially my case in entirely inexplicable: what is natural for humans, is not natural for me and vice versa. I do not belong here. I have fallen to Earth, God knows where from...

Sunday, 5th May 1991

Night Adventure: Inside a dimly lit corridor there is a black metal chair. At the centre of the seat there is a round hole. The chair doesn't have a back; instead, it has a metal staff which ends in a helmet. People come and go continuously along the corridor, without noticing the chair. Only seldom does someone sit on it; then, the metal helmet descends to their head and puts them to torpor. In the end, the person is melted, absorbed and lost inside the hole.

A team of researchers, amongst whom I recognize Apostolis, try to find out why people disappear in that corridor. Of course, nobody suspects that a piece of furniture is to blame. However, there comes a time when nobody walks along that corridor any more. The chair is left all alone in the corridor, thinking to itself: When will a human being come here, so as to keep me company? I feel so lonely; maybe, someday I will find somebody who's like me...

Thursday, 23rd May 1991

This evening we performed a telepathy experiment at Janus: While meditating, I "saw" an empty vase, almost round in shape. The object Alexander had chosen and placed on the reception table was an empty vase of oval shape...

After the lesson, Vanessa, Aphrodite and I went to a fast-food restaurant and discussed all kinds of interesting subjects, but mostly we expressed our doubts about the spiritual teachings which propagandize the so-called "breaking of the Ego"; they remind of medieval obscurantism, since they prohibit any question regarding the guru's authority.

Anyway, I wonder: What is really achieved with "breaking of the Ego"? I talked to the girls about an experiment I have recently carried out with myself: I took care so as to feel, think and act according to Alexander's teachings, that is without the slightest vestige of selfishness. Pretty soon I started to ignore all my interests, needs, desires, emotions, because -according to the guru- "all these things satisfy the Ego, so they are contrary to spiritual development". The result: If I had insisted on this for a few more days, I would have had a nervous breakdown, I would have even started thinking about suicide! Moreover, my self-esteem had diminished to a minimum: I had begun to believe that I was good for nothing and that everything I did was pointless since it served my own satisfaction. I was sinking deeper and deeper into apathy and that looked like liberation -at first.

All things considered, what can this fallacy of "breaking the Ego" actually cause to the human soul? Probably, it destroys other things too, apart from selfishness. Maybe it bears a serious danger for the soul itself; perhaps the ultimate purpose of all religious systems is the disintegration and fusion of souls into something else. Apart from obedience to an "authority", all these systems claim that: "When you finally achieve to break your Ego, then other, superior energies will come inside you" ... "When there is no Ego, man unites with God", and so on. I don't know, but this sounds like a method of demonic possession: What really comes inside, when there is no Ego?

Saturday, 29th June 1991

This evening we are expecting visitors, namely aunt Mary from Piraeus, together with a would-be groom whom she wishes to make me a match with. For this reason, following my mother's stringent advice, I have been to the hair-dresser's, I am in my best togs and I have made my glasses scarce.

The bell rings, we answer the door and a big group of persons appear at the threshold: apart from aunt Mary and the "groom", there is cousin Diamanta and the bloke's mother, holding a cake as a present. At first sight, the guy doesn't seem to be a bad case: His name is Michael, he is tall, lean, well-dressed, he looks kind and, as far as we know, he has a permanent job in a big company. Yet, his face is kinda ugly, it has the shape of a slipper with a huge nose in the centre. "Never mind, he is okay; whenever you two do it, you will put a pillow on his face and everything will be fine," jokes my sister.

We all sit at the living room, we have a pleasant conversation, the atmosphere is positive; at a moment I dare put on my glasses so that I can see faces and things clearer. I only hope the spectacles won't repel the would-be groom. Finally, we arrange to meet again next Saturday.

Saturday, 6th July 1991

The great day has come and aunt Mary insists on my calling on her, at her house in Piraeus, many hours before meeting Michael. I accept willingly, although I can't understand why. I arrive there at about 3:00 o' clock in the afternoon, and she welcomes me happily; we have a long, spirited discussion, and she finds the opportunity to offer me some discreet advice about how to seduce the "groom". Anyway, time goes by pleasantly till it is 5:50 o' clock, when Michael turns up and we both leave in his car.

To my great surprise, instead of going directly to a cafeteria the two of us, the bloke informs me he is invited to a colleague's wedding at 6:00! Therefore, I have to follow him to church, attend the wedding ceremony of a total stranger, and wait in a long queue so as to congratulate the newly-weds.

When this is all over and we are ready to go, here comes one of Michael's colleagues, a dark-skinned disagreeable guy, and sticks to us like a leech. He suggests we all three go for a coffee and Michael agrees immediately. "Sorry, Yvonne; I couldn't imagine something like this would happen!" the ''groom'' excuses himself in a low voice.

So, the three of us go and sit at a nearby cafeteria, where we have a rather boring conversation. At a moment, I try to start a more interesting subject, mentioning that the traffic jam in the streets is getting worse and worse. "Oh, so you think a lot!" says Michael in genuine wonder, as if witnessing a rare phenomenon. In the meanwhile, his friend has probably begun to get wind of what's going on, and he looks at us askance.

I had no objection to meeting the "groom" again and showed it to him clearly. However, he won't come in contact with me ever again. I suspect that the only thing he wanted from me was to show me off to his colleagues as a girlfriend.

Monday, 15th July 1991

Despite the fiasco of my first book, in mid-April I finished my second fantasy novel, titled "Age of Nemesis". The other day I phoned the publisher Halaris and told him about it (before realizing he had been stringing me along), but he didn't even deign to have a look at it: "You work too much; don't think you will be famous so fast!" was his answer.

After a lot of personal research, and having watched a relevant reportage on TV recently, it is clear to me now that it isn't easy at all for a new writer to be recognized. New authors take it as granted that they will pay for the publication of their first four books at least; as the about royalties, they are usually close to zero, even for the most distinguished writers. Therefore, seeing there is no other way to have the job done, I have decided to pay for the publishing expenses of my new book.

I have been to numerous publishing houses asking about prices, but they all want 500,000 drachmas (eight monthly salaries) for a simple paperback book; they refuse to put the name of their firm on it, and as about distribution, it is out of the question. Only the typographer Jim Marcopoulos, Chryssa's boss, has accepted to print my book at the price of 250,000 drachmas only; as about my cousin, she reassured me the book would be "very nice, very fine".

Today, however, when I was invited to the printing house so as to see the final product, I found out it has nothing to do with what we had agreed! First of all, the cover is just a simple photo of a picture painted by me; it hasn't been computer processed, as we had said, and the result is rather poor. As about the interior, the paper is too thin, almost transparent, the letters too small, the lines too close, the margins too narrow. This is not at all what we had agreed! Even I, the author, find it too difficult to read this thing, let alone a reader! Nevertheless, I paid the agreed sum without making the slightest complaint...

Monday, 16th July 1991

This morning the situation got even worse: I had to collect the 1,000 copies of this unacceptable book and somehow transport them to my office, no further than 500 metres away. For this reason I had to find a taxi; I stood on Pireaus Avenue for about twenty minutes, but it proved to be abnormally difficult to find one since, strangely enough, all taxis went to the opposite direction!

Finally, I decided to act cunningly: I crossed the road, I stopped a taxi, I got on and told the driver to stop outside the printing house for a minute, without explaining why. As soon as he saw the ten packets of 100 books each he would have to carry in his trunk, he almost got a stroke!

Next moment, when I explained to him he should change direction and head for Omonia Square, he looked at me sadly, without even finding the courage to protest. As soon as we reached Omonia Square, he told me to get off, refusing to drive 100 more metres to my office!

Consequently, I had to leave the ten bulky packets alone in the middle of the Square, and run to my office so as to get a small trolley I happen to have there. This trolley could hold no more than two packets of books, so I had to repeat the itinerary five times in order to carry them all. In the meantime, hundreds of passers-by watched my hardship in wonder, however the only thing that mattered to me then was to finish the job as soon as possible. Eventually, I managed to carry all ten packets to my office without losing any...

Chapter 27: Distractions

Thursday, 8th August 1991

Yesterday I returned to Athens after 17 days of vacations in England, where I went together with my father and one of his sisters, aunt Tassia. We stayed at Temple Fortune, a suburb of London, at aunt Miranda's house. We decided to go there on occasion of cousin Thelma's wedding.

In overall, I had a fine time: In the mornings we visited parks, museums, and other sights of London: Madam Tussaud's, Rock Circus, the Tower of London, London Dungeon, St Paul's Cathedral, Windsor Castle, etc.

One night we went to the casino, together with Thelma and her husband: I played roulette and lost five pounds in five minutes. Yet, I liked the environment: Luxury, devoutness, controlled tension. Since I didn't have any more money to play, I stood by the roulette and concentrated on number 11; The ball hit 11 twice, three times it hit the number next, almost every time it hit two or three numbers away from 11.

The afternoons were rather boring: I had nothing to say to all these well-to-do, conceited relatives – they didn't pay much attention to me, anyway. Especially aunt Tassia wouldn't miss a chance to express her contempt for me ("You look like a loser!") and her admiration for my sister ("Alice is a fly customer, a go-getter, the devil incarnate!"). Moreover, we slept on the same bed, she snored continuously like a chainsaw, and her huge bulk (150 kilos) almost pushed me out of bed. I hardly got any sleep during those 16 endless nights...

Tuesday, 20th August 1991

There was a bad accident this morning: My sister and her friend Milena, together with husbands and children, went on a day trip to Catramonison, a small island off the coast of Voula, in Antony's boat. The men were absent for hours underwater fishing, while the women and children were having fun at the seaside. At a moment, little Josef hid behind some boats in the shallows and started swallowing sea water without being seen by anyone. When they found him, he had already lost his senses. Fortunately, someone had a speedboat, so they managed to take the kid to the Aesculapius Hospital in Voula in time.

When my parents and I got there, Josef was still unconscious, Alice was weeping and wailing, and Antony was threatening her furiously: "If the child dies, I will kill you!". Finally the infant came to himself but he was diagnosed with pneumonia, so he was transferred to the Children's Hospital in Athens, where he will stay for a few days.

As soon as we returned home, the telephone rang: It was Lucas Zafirakis and asked me if I could "pop down" to his office in New Smyrna, so as to help him with an urgent job! "I can't pop down, because we had an accident this morning and my two-year-old nephew almost drowned" I replied. So, Mrs Dina came here and brought a two-page text for me to translate, because the boss considered his new secretary incapable of doing that. I finished the translation quickly, Mrs Dina paid me, and that was the end of it. It was a strange coincidence, though, that Lucas happened to need me urgently on this very day...

Saturday, 31st August 1991

Mum and I are on the island of Salamis; we are going to spend the whole weekend at aunt Mary's cottage. Yanni is with us, he is six now and he is always a handful. Why did my mother insist on dragging him along? Can't she live two days without my sister's spoilt children? Anyway, we are having a good time here: We go for walks in the village or to the seaside and we have lively conversations in aunt's spacious veranda.

This afternoon, as the kid and I were walking along the earthen road, we heard loud folk music coming from a neighbour's cottage. As soon as we were right outside that house, we heard a deep man's voice on the radio: "Hello Yanni, you young toughie!". We both laughed spontaneously at the coincidence. In the distance, up on the mountain, I could discern Mary Psomiades' cottage, where I had spent a carefree week in the summer of '77...

Friday, 9th September 1991

Night Adventure: I am in a fast-food restaurant together with my friend Lena, but I find the waitresses' behaviour strange: They serve Lena immediately but they ignore me entirely. As time goes by, I get more and more nervous; I protest again and again, but they always tell me "Just wait a sec". A waitress is sitting at a table nearby and all is does is stare at me with an ironical mien.

"Why aren't you serving me?" I ask her.

"Just wait a sec," she answers mockingly and I get angry.

"I'll go somewhere else to eat!" I say and get up.

I am out of the restaurant now, but I suddenly change my mind. Why should I always be the victim? I think. I go back and demand to see the boss. The waitresses refuse to lead me to him, so I go up the stairs alone; I reach a spacious white room, and I find the manager's dark office. Yet, I hesitate to enter, I just walk past. What shall I achieve, anyway? He won't pay any heed to me, I think.

Going up some more steps, I enter a big bedroom with many white partitions. In there, the managers fuck the waitresses and I catch them red-handed. I could blackmail them with this, it occurs to me, but they all stand up at once and they start chasing me. I run fast and get out, to the balcony, through a small window. Two of them come too close and I have to fight hard in order to neutralize them. Then I hide behind a wall, the enemies think I have jumped down, so they lose me. I run across a dark place which looks dangerous, and I finally end up on a tiled roof. The sense of adventure makes me feel great.

Next moment I jump down to a narrow stone alley and run along it until I reach the wooden door of an old edifice. Hearing some of my persecutors approaching, I decide to knock on the door. A tall, middle-aged man appears at the threshold. "I am tired from travelling and I would like to rest for a while," I excuse myself. He allows me to get in, and I see it is an old-time saloon with wooden furniture, full of smoke and shady patrons. Nevertheless I feel comfortable, as if I were in my element. I sit at the bar and I am offered some stale cookies powdered with caster sugar on a saucer. The napkins are dirty, probably used. There is a black-dressed, sluggish guy sitting nearby, and he is staring at me with his glassy eyes...

Interpretation (all my life in an allegory): I always try to fit in the human society, but for some strange reason I am not accepted by the "servants", so I stay out. Recently, however, I have changed my way of thinking: Instead of fleeing, I seek to find the "boss", so as to complain and clear out the situation. Yet, I soon realize those in power won't take my side, since they "fuck" their subordinates; on the other hand, "servants" put on airs because they are fucked by the "bosses". Moreover, they understand that I know what's going on, so they persecute and fight me. I can see that a frontal attack won't do me any good: they are numerous and I have no allies. That's why I hide wherever I can, although I am nowhere really safe...

Thursday, 26th September 1991

At about six o' clock in the morning I start a relaxation exercise in bed. As I fall into the "void space", I feel energized enough to attempt an astral projection: I instinctively envisage two bright lights performing circular, parallel, adverse orbits in the air; as soon as they reach the two opposite points of their orbits, I can feel a strong airstream pulling me out of my body. I come out violently, from head to toes, gradually but fast, and I hover above the bed for some seconds. I want to fly away, yet I return to my physical body instead. I try to "get out" once more, but I fail. I can only "see" my astral body being elongated and it looks rather strange. Then, all of a sudden, I am in another house with white walls. The astral projection has been reduced to a simple dream...

Friday, 27th September 1991

This morning I did another relaxation exercise; it lasted forty minutes, but it gave me the impression of lasting no more than fifteen minutes. It was right after waking up, when I suddenly sank into the "void space" and spontaneously started an astral projection -once again: My astral body sat up, but I couldn't detach my legs; yet I could see it, spectral and white, from all sides, even from behind! Then, I felt a cold but pleasant airstream coming up and down my spinal cord – a wonderful sensation which lasted only a few moments. I tried to open my eyes but it was impossible. All at once I found myself inside my physical body and I woke up...

Wednesday, 2nd October 1991

This afternoon I had an appointment with Harry, who is number two in Janus after Alexander, and talked to him about the two astral projections I had last week. Deep inside I wished to impress him and get a more specific astral projection technique from him.

However, he told me there aren't such techniques and he advised me not to pursue experiences of the kind, because I am not ready yet and I might get obsessed. The only thing he wasn't opposed to, was my changing a lucid dream into self-hypnosis, reaching the "void space" without trying to cause anything. Then he explained that

"Experiences which start from dreams are nothing but figments of your imagination. It all happens because you fear the real world; you feel unable to face certain situations, that's why you seek refuge in the world of dreams. You resort to your imagination a lot, but this can prevent you from advancing in metaphysics because it offers pleasant fantasies. Moreover, fantasies satisfy your Ego! So, you had better avoid them!"

Therefore, I must restrain my imagination, quit fantasies and experience reality as it is, moment by moment. Also, I must not take dreams, astral projections, and the like into account, because they are often deceptive.

He didn't like it at all when I confided in him the odd feeling I have sometimes, that I am the centre of the world and everything revolves around me: "Just like my cousin, who is schizophrenic and she always sees before her a killer with a knife in hand!" he exclaimed and I wondered: What does this have to do with me?

Anyway, I didn't stay in his office more than half an hour, because Harry suddenly stood up with his hands in his pockets, making clear he was looking forward to my making myself scarce...

Friday, 4th October 1991

"Age of Nemesis" - the rest of the story: Refusing to admit I have thrown away four salaries for publishing an unacceptable book, I tried to forward my novel to some distributors; however, none was willing to undertake the distribution of such a product -I should have expected that. Then, I tried to distribute it by myself to bookstores and kiosks. Very few of them accepted two or three copies and hid them in some dark corner – they certainly wouldn't put them at the shop-window. Realizing (luckily, early enough) how time-consuming, tiring and vain would be to go on distributing the books myself, I soon gave up. Even if I managed to distribute some copies, then I would have to visit the bookstores every now and then so as to check non-existent sales. In brief, too much ado for nothing.

Eventually, I gave away about thirty copies to friends and relatives, and piled the rest 970 books behind the door of my office. When people ask, I tell them the books belong to a friend of mine who is a writer and has asked me to keep them in my office temporarily. Anyway, I don't intend to do anything like that again; I am through with writing, publishing, and that sort of thing...

Monday, 7th October 1991

Lucid Dream: My sister enters my room but I can't see her clearly in the dim light. Someone knocks on the door again; to my surprise, it is my sister again. Surprise becomes fear as I realize that the first Alice hasn't got a head; there is only an odd cavity in the place of her neck!

Fear makes the dream lucid and I immediately decide to change it into self-hypnosis: I close my eyes and empty my mind; I feel as if "going out", but I can't see my astral body, I can only discern my legs a little. I try to open my eyes; at first I can't, then I manage to open them but still I can't see anything but darkness. In the meanwhile, I feel an invisible force carrying me away, all the way down a wide, black tunnel. I end up in another dream, where I walk together with others up a narrow path by the seaside; golden lights flicker in the distance, stars sparkle on the night sky...

Tuesday, 8th October 1991

Lucid Dream: I am on a tree, I know I am dreaming and I decide to change the dream into a relaxation exercise. I shut my eyes, begin meditation and reach the "void space". Soon I find myself sinking inside a dark tunnel; paradoxically, it seems to be two-dimensional, like a film, so I have become two-dimensional too. I fall down the tunnel faster and faster, while various scenes take place outside it but I can't discern anything; it is like watching them behind a black veil. Then I remember Alexander, who always advises us against taking such initiatives by ourselves, and I start to worry I might be doing something wrong. I try hard to stop, I manage to reverse my course, finally I get out of the tunnel and I am back on the tree again. I force myself to wake up, feeling unsatisfied and sad...

Wednesday, 9th October 1991

Yesterday I decided to talk to the class about my two astral projections, as well as the two last lucid dreams I attempted to change into self-hypnosis. At first it felt good; however, before long I regretted it, as I saw nobody had been even slightly impressed. Moreover, Alexander hastened to boast off: "That's no big deal! I have performed hundreds of astral projections!"

Right after, he sought to dissuade me from attempting anything like that again "because it is too early and the subconscious isn't clear enough," he explained; then he added that lucid dreaming can lead to madness, especially if someone changes a dream into self-hypnosis. I was taken aback because this is not what Harry had told me the other day -in fact he had said exactly the opposite! The two gentlemen contradict each other!

"What prevents me from succeeding in everyday life, will also prevent me from doing so in the astral plane. So, why attempt an astral projection or anything like that?" Theano chipped in suddenly, and I found her argument rather equivocal...

I am losing confidence in the guru once again – and not only because of the above. I am certain Alexander has been fooling us with all that sonorous mythology about "advanced classes". Before closing for summer, he had told us that from September new classes would be arranged. On a Thursday he said something about "next time". "Next time" proved to be three weeks later and the only thing that really changed was the day: Instead of Thursdays, now we come on Tuesdays. As for the rest, the supposedly "higher class" to which I belong now has proved to be something "medium", neither theory nor practice -namely nothing! Actually, it's worse than the previous class! I can surely understand not all disciples are suitable for "moving up". Some others, however, who can and want to advance in metaphysics, are discouraged with lame excuses such as "you are too emotional" or "too touchy" or "too disobedient" and so on.

Apart from that, I can discern some hypocrisy too: "Which of you went to a charitable establishment in the summer, so as to offer some help? None! You all went on vacations!" Alexander reprimanded the class at a moment, and they all stayed silent, acknowledging their guilt. Really now, which of the "advanced" disciples visited charitable establishments in the summer? Rena, who is always ready for a row? Or Mary, who thinks she is somebody just because she happens to be one of the guru's stooges? Or, maybe, Alexander himself? Allow me to doubt...

I strongly suspect natural psychics are not only ignored here, but they are also sabotaged on purpose. What makes an advanced disciple, after all? The "ability" to accept passively the usually irrational reprimands of the guru, maybe? Vanessa saw "the light" during her very first relaxation exercise, she did very well in the first telepathy experiments, but Alexander showed her no interest at all; on the contrary, he treats her as if she were paranoid because she occasionally questions his theories. Moreover, Alexander often accuses her of being neurotic and hysterical before the whole class! As a result, Vanessa has been blocked, she has never seen the "light" again, and her telepathy doesn't work any more. Aphrodite is also gifted with innate intuition, she used to be psychic but she isn't anymore -not ever since she started attending Janus...

I have come to believe that what is taught in Janus has nothing to do with metaphysics. I certainly expected more action: experiments of telepathy, spiritualism, telekinesis, astral projection, psychometry etc, by use of specific methods. Last year something was going on, but now nothing – always on the grounds that our subconscious is not clear yet. "When the time comes, I will show you the right technique for a successful astral projection, but not now. If you try anything like that now, you will certainly fail again and again; you can't fail all the time, because your subconscious will eventually connect this technique with failure!" claims the guru, so as to excuse the suppression of telepathy experiments in class.

As about obedience, which is so much propagandized by all gurus, at first it refers to spiritual matters but soon it affects the disciple's whole life. During the lesson, if we express even the slightest personal opinion on the most insignificant matter, Alexander jumps at the chance to accuse us of being unworthy disciples. Sometimes he even presents outrageous theories to us, just because he wants to sound out on reactions; only when these are non-existent, is he satisfied. The truth is that none of us dares speak in class anymore. We are afraid of opening our mouths lest we should be considered disobedient, maladjusted, unworthy. I don't like this at all...

Saturday, 12th October 1991

Night Adventure: I go up the white stairs of a palace. A handsome, muscular, dark-haired man accosts me and holds my hand. We become friends, he seems to be noble and gentle. He leads me to the royal gardens upstairs and I wonder at their beauty, as they are verdant with colourful exotic flowers. We both run and laugh together, like children. I feel great...۩

In the morning, during a meditation exercise in the bus, I reached the "void space" and had the following psychic experience: I had the impression of being at the top of a vertical, dark tunnel. Down, at the bottom, there was bright light, it looked like a sea of light. The same experience will be repeated two more times in the next two days.

Tuesday, 29th October 1991

This psychic experience is rather unusual and it begins as a meditation exercise at Janus. Following Alexander's instructions, we all focus on the love for our class. At first there is a sense of universal unity. Then, I can discern hazy, foggy masses whirling in the darkness of my shut eyes, gradually forming a spectral, distorted scull which gapes before me horridly, as if screaming. Soon the scull is transformed into a bright flower which, at its turn, becomes a revolving cosmic vortex; all forms in the universe are absorbed inside it. The vortex reshapes all things and disgorges them elsewhere, thus creating a new universe with entirely new forms. A new cosmic vortex is being shaped within the new universe and the same procedure is repeated to infinity. Ecstasy...

When I awake, my heart beats like a drum and I feel extremely excited and upset, as if falling apart. In a trembling voice I describe my experience in class.

"I feel strange," I conclude.

"Keep on feeling strange; it is nice!" says the guru.

Sunday, 17th November 1991

Prophetic Dream: I am sitting in my room, looking at a photo of Manolis, who is my peer and an old neighbour. On the black background of the photo I can see colourful rays of light and an English poem, each verse next to each ray:

Into the night (blue ray)

Out of love (red ray)

Through the purple daylight (purple ray)

When a golden ray attacks (orange-yellow ray)

Through the window grille (green ray)

Wish it were true (green-yellow ray)

Because you're dying (black-yellow ray)

Dying (darker ray)

Dying (almost black ray)

Verification: Three days later Manolis will be killed in a car accident.

Monday, 25th November 1991

Night Adventure: I am somewhere abroad; I can see dry fields full of emaciated blond sheep; they look like gigantic kadaifis, similar to those we ate at Danae's last night. In the distance there is a stone bridge over a shallow river, and I can discern someone familiar standing there; but... it is me! Passing through a dark tunnel, I come near her. She is another Yvonne; we have the same face and body but she is fashionably dressed, wearing yellow trousers and a red blouse. Her hair is permed, just like when I was in Italy. "Hi, how do you do?" I greet her cordially; we kiss and hug full of joy, and then I ask her what she has achieved so far. She says she has failed to move up in University this year, because she hasn't written well in a subject.

We go to the offices of the University together, so as to find the headmistress and discuss the matter. I feel happy for having found myself. Then I realize there is a white lighter in my right hand and it has a number on it: 2017. It strikes me as an expiry date...

Wednesday, 27th December 1991

At about noon Antony and Alice got ready to go to a local cafeteria. They had already reached the front door, when Antony gave me an enigmatic look which could be interpreted as "let's invite that poor thing to come along" and he asked me to join them. I accepted at once.

Soon we found ourselves in a cosy, lively environment, dim-lit but pleasant. We played darts, I went into a racing car simulator, I chatted and laughed spontaneously with many persons. I was also noticed by two handsome strangers at the bar. Then I realized how long it has been since I last went out with "normal" people...

Suddenly, everything was clear for me: I would have become a normal person if I had been accepted by the right circles at the right time. If the appropriate, normal circles accepted me, unless they all disapproved of me before even knowing me, everything would be different now: my way of thinking would be "politically correct", I would have a husband or a boyfriend, I would be able to dance tsifteteli, I might as well have children! I wouldn't have landed up in Janus. Therefore, what I've become is their fault, and what I'm becoming is their fault too; whatever I am becoming...

* * * *

Friday, 10th January 1992

Night Adventure: I am somewhere outdoors and I see a young woman bending down in a provocative way; behind her mini skirt, her hips are naked; then, I realize she is burnt all over! Some villains grab and throw her body on a heap of other corpses and they dump them all in a huge melting-pot.

I am an enemy of evil and I decide to stop the perpetrators. I try to walk away slowly, but they notice me as I go up the stairs. "Hey, you! Come here!" they shout at me and I turn round, pretending to be scared. They laugh, while preparing to fire their flameguns. I ask for one minute time, so as to pray; they allow me and I squat down, next to a wall, for a brief meditation exercise.

When I finally finish and get up, the enemies fire at once. However, their guns produce no flame for they no longer function; there is only a soft light inside the long barrels. The villains get angry and they try to catch me but I fight back with two high kicks and send them roll down on the ground stunned. They realize something strange is going on and they withdraw quickly.

I know I don't have much time, because my psychokinetic influence on the flameguns won't last long. So, at a moment when my persecutors don't notice, I enter a car of bright green colour and drive away at once. Yet, one of the enemies chases me in another vehicle. With a view to deceiving him, I get out of my car and let it go down a precipice...

Monday, 13th January 1992

The night walk in the vicinity brought back to my mind the old, inner enigma: I, the only conscience of the world; I, the centre of the world; all what I can perceive out there is nothing but projections to my conscience, images shaped in co-ordination around me; and the other people, what are they but deceptive visions? What is going on, and why? This is the perpetual question that can't even be put into words. This is the only problem I should work out. All the rest -everyday cares, personal issues, speculations about social, political, spiritual and other subjects- are just distractions from the inner enigma; they systematically detract me and I forget...

Tuesday, 14th January 1992

This evening I decided to express myself (the guru often coerces us into doing so) and talk about my recent thoughts in class. Ignoring a strong heartbeat and an inner voice screaming "no!", I proceeded to confessions concerning the inner enigma before everybody. My words came out uncertain, while Alexander was looking at me with strange, maybe malignant eyes. At the end he smiled cunningly and flung at me: "Be careful, or you will go paranoid!"

Then, he addressed the class and started a pompous lecture which began like that: "This is nothing but tricks the Ego plays on you, making you think you are someone important, someone special, and for this reason you are the target of invisible forces! If you yield to such tricks of the Ego, you are likely to go mad!"

I froze in disappointment; on one hand, I was astonished because I do feel like a target all the time -though I have never told a soul about it; one the other hand, I certainly hadn't expected so much contempt and hostility from the guru. As about my classmates, none of them uttered a word; yet, I could feel their ironic looks at me – all that condensed negativity being launched at me. My self-confidence wavered at once. I have been feeling miserable ever since. Just when I thought I had found myself again, I got lost once more.

I will never reveal anything about myself to the guru -never again. All things considered, to talk about my psychic experiences or inspirations to others is a serious mistake. The others, as if in collusion, always question, distort or disapprove of anything I say. Since I am not considered to be an authority (like Alexander, for instance), my defeat in certain disputes is preordained. The result: Doubts, frustration, inner blocking. I go back instead of ahead. It is imperative that I should perfect the art of silence. I have to make a stand against my need for praise, which often urges me to say more than I should. Silence is gold...

Tuesday, 21st January 1992

Alexander wants us to gather about 5,000,000 drachmas, so that he will be able to buy land somewhere in the country and build his asram there. In a very natural way, he announces that if 50 disciples offer 100,000 drachmas each, the sum will be covered! As a reward, the "sponsors" will have the honour of working voluntarily at the estate the guru will buy with their own money!

The strangest thing, though, is that many of my classmates show spontaneous willingness to offer that money, while others are ready to sell their own fields and donate the money to Alexander, without even thinking twice. Moreover, Alexander makes clear that the so-called "extra contributions" are actually obligatory from now on, and that the amounts of money given to him will show who the worthy disciples are. He keeps talking incessantly and everybody listens to him devoutly, as if he were God on earth. Everybody but me.

I believe Alexander doesn't give a dime for us. He is only interested in "contributions" and "donations". Most of the times he spends the whole lesson complaining about delayed fees and ignored contributions. He gets on my nerves. I pay my monthly fee in time, every Tuesday I spend three hours in commuting to Janus, and the only thing I learn there is that some persons haven't paid their fees. In fact, I haven't learnt anything in Janus for months now. The only thing I do when I go there, is lose my time and my temper...

Sunday, 26th January 1992

Night Adventure: I live in a medieval city-castle, together with my lover. I am somebody else: I have a different face and long, black hair. The castle is often attacked by hordes of Saracens. My boyfriend and I fight against them but there comes a day when he is murdered, while I fence against three enemies: I cut someone's arm off, I sever somebody else's legs, I gore the third one to death; yet, I fail to kill their chief, who chases me all over the castle.

While running to escape, I can see chests full of treasure behind glass walls; I concentrate and close the lids by using the power of my mind. In this way, I beat the temptation of wealth. Later on, I hide behind lofty bushes at the edge of a stone path, which is still under construction, and I can overhear some workers talking: "Long ago, someone was murdered there. His bones are still scattered around, somewhere among the bushes," I hear them say and I know they mean my dead boyfriend.

Eventually I reach the highest chamber of the castle, where the enemies can't find me. From there, I climb down the walls and the mountain, leaving the castle behind; however I intend to return one day. Nevertheless, the luxury of the city soon enchants me. I linger along the streets looking at sparkling jewels in shop-windows, I wonder at their beauty, I delay, I forget...

Tuesday, 18th February 1992

Mother dearest: Yesterday afternoon, when my parents and I went to buy a new refrigerator, mum didn't stop patronizing me for a single moment, constantly trying to make me choose the one she liked. She got on my nerves and we left without buying anything. This morning I went to the store with my father only and I bought the fridge I wanted without any complications.

I have noticed it many times: Whenever I talk with my mother, I tend to lose control of my thoughts and reactions; every conversation of ours ends in tension, exasperation, or even a quarrel, since she always discourages me and criticizes every idea or initiative of mine. When I was younger, my mother sought to control every move I made and I considered this natural: She always told me what to eat, what to wear, where to go etc, while bombarding me with admonitions such as: "Don't run, you will fall!" ... "Don't fight with other children, they will hit you!" ... "Don't wear this blouse, wear that one" ... "Don't be late at night, nasty things might happen to you", and so on. Until I was eighteen she used to be in total control of my wardrobe; she always escorted me at the shops and I considered it as a matter of course to choose the clothes she liked. Until I was 25, I was indissolubly bonded to my mother, who programmed the slightest move of mine, as if I were a robot. I had no friends, and I didn't need any because mother was there. My parents have never worried about my solitude, all they ever cared about was my taking good marks at school. Not that they ever expected me to become a scientist; it is just that studying kept me away from "bad company".

Even now, I take care to hide my diaries well, lest mother should see and disapprove of them. However, I suspect she has already found and read them: she knows I attend Janus -without my telling her- and she demands I stop. She is always spying on me, because she doesn't trust me. When I am downstairs, in my apartment, she appears at my threshold every fifteen minutes, putting forward various strange excuses, but all she really wants is to spy on me. When she turns up, if I happen to be writing, I hasten to hide the "body of evidence" before she finds out the "crime"; if I listen to songs, I turn off the stereo at once, before she sees me seated on a chair and finds it peculiar. I have to escape mother's oppressive influence. But how? Should I move somewhere else, maybe?

Wednesday, 19th February 1992

I have noticed certain changes in my behaviour lately, changes of a "negative" tinge: For example, when I am on the bus, I no longer stand up and give away my seat as soon as some old crock comes near me. Very few old people really have this need; anyway, why do they get on the bus early in the morning or in the afternoon, exactly when workers and employees have a hard time commuting to work?

Nor do I look forward to going out with friends, anymore. I am no longer in the mood of wasting four hours in packed buses every time, just to meet some persons of doubtful sincerity. I still see them once in a while, but I have done away with laughs, confessions and nonsense. I used to be more tolerant to people, because I lacked self-confidence and I needed their approval. Recently, however, something has changed: I no longer feel obliged to put up with any moron.

I was doing some extra work at my office this afternoon, when the telephone rang. I picked up the receiver and I heard a coarse man's voice roar in my ear:

"What iiiis it theeeeere?"

"Typings \- Translations" I replied calm.

"Who's theeeere?" cried the bloke again, before I had even finished talking.

"My name is Yvonne Fezarris. How can I help you?" I asked kindly.

"Yvonne Fezarris, whooooo?" he howled exasperated.

Right at that moment I hung up.

The bloke called again at once and this time he was furious: "How do you dare hang up on me? You know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, the line went dead" I excused myself.

Yet, he went on bawling undaunted: "If you think you are a toughie, then I..."

I hung up again and left the office immediately. As I was walking up Patission Avenue to Janus, I was feeling wonderful...

Thursday, 20th February 1992

Yesterday evening, once again, the guru said "In reality, there is no Good and Evil; only our personal point of view, alias the Ego, makes something appear as good or evil". The other disciples agreed implicitly but I had some doubts, which I cleared out this afternoon, through meditation:

Power is Evil: When you are more powerful than another being, there are two natural and spontaneous ways to treat it: a) If the being is a little weaker than you, you seek to tame it and make it your "servant". For this purpose you use either violence or charity; in the second case, it will owe you eternal gratitude and it will be obliged to serve you during its whole life – otherwise it will be considered "ungrateful" or "unworthy", and the consequences will be detrimental for its survival in any society. b) If the being is much weaker than you, a small animal or insect for instance, then it is not only entirely useless but also a nuisance to you; so, you exterminate it without second thoughts.

Evil is Power: Malice (the spontaneous desire to harm other beings) has always been the strongest motive to "action" and "progress". Certain people gather extreme power in their hands, which finally takes the form of money, fame, social status. Malicious persons have the innate tendency to unite in networks – and all networks belong to a universal super-network that controls them all. The purpose of networks is to make sure that Power always stays within the same circles of persons; that's why their members support each other with religious fanaticism.

Hierarchy is a basic mechanism of networks. Thanks to the division of labour, each person is placed at a specific post (according to their natural abilities, qualifications, and allegiance to the chiefs) and is expected to offer as much as possible to society. Therefore, very specific activities are assigned to each member: Children go to school; women become mistresses, housewives and mothers – this is their main role, regardless of career or other activities; men become workers or employees. The more "ambitious" ones, that is the more greedy, become managers.

All day long we are obliged to perform boring, thankless, tiring, enervating tasks -which often have no clear purpose. They just keep us busy with various nonsense, so that they can suck our energy day after day, year after year – and we let go in complacent misery, boasting off that we are hard-working people, useful to society.

Networks of all kinds control the lives of ordinary people through special mechanisms (work, money, patriarchy, religion, nepotism, etc), but they are also structured in a rigorous hierarchy: There are many ways the bosses of a company can control the lives of their employees, but this happens always in accordance to the line they take from higher ranks of the elite. Yet, those "higher ranks" toe the line of other, "even higher ranks", and so on. Consequently, the flow of Power follows a strictly one-way course through specific human channels, until it all accumulates to a secret centre -at the top of the social pyramid.

The Centre is not some human being; it is an invisible, incomprehensible, probably extraterrestrial entity, an absolute Lord, who demands to be worshiped as "God" by the human herd. This is where all authorities and powers derive from and this is where they all return, strengthened by the psychic energy of billions of human beings. The higher someone is in the pyramid of society, the closer they are to the so-called "God". However, only those who manage to reach the highest possible level, near the top of the pyramid, can recognize what "God" really is.

Naturally, the pyramid stands on its base; the weak and the poor of this world are the "blood" which nourishes the invisible and unknowable Lord, since it is their energy that flows through the entire structure. On the other hand, the pyramid can "break" only at its lowest edges; only those who are on the fringe of society may escape from this tyranny – but it is not at all easy, even for them. It goes without saying that the higher someone is in hierarchy, the more unlikely it is for them to escape...

Wednesday, 26th February 1992

Doubts about the guru -once again: Now he needs many millions of drachmas for the creation of an asram, he says. For the time being, he demands 10,000 drachmas from each one of us, so as to buy the land. However, this is only the beginning; many more millions of drachmas will be needed for the building of the settlement – and the whole estate will be to the guru's name.

There follows a psychological extortion: "The imminent world annihilation makes the situation urgent (as if we would be safe in the asram). Besides, those who are really advanced in metaphysics, will be eager to offer any sum of money needed!". Then, he makes an example of Harry, who has an ordinary job in a company and happily offers all his salary to Janus. Other "worthy disciples" have donated their own fields to Alexander, who makes it clear he owes them nothing at all, not even a "thank you", since it is their honour to serve him!

All in all, the creation of a sect is the cleverest enterprise: If you play your cards right, within a few years you have a herd of loyal "disciples" who worship you like a god, they donate you their properties and they consider it their honour to work for you without pay! Brilliant!

Thursday, 27th February 1992

Psychic Experience: I get out of my body and whirl slowly, then faster; it feels good but my range of vision is limited. All at once I am in a horizontal, dark tunnel and I can see Theano in the distance. She runs to find the light and I follow her. Sometimes the tunnel glows, as if it were full of coals. Suddenly Theano falls down and some red-hot pieces precipitate on her, but she laughs and stands up easily. We soon see the light, which is red and shining bright ahead of us. However, when we come closer it slips away and we can't reach it. Then we are both out of the tunnel, in a snowed town. My friend sits on a bench and smiles happily...۩

The managing director of Pangaea, Mr Nick Gryparis, has been giving me work at home lately – namely audio cassettes containing recorded dialogues of various rich and famous people. I listen to the tapes and type the dialogues. This is a very tiring and time-consuming job, yet I can handle it. A few days ago I took in my hands two cassettes, where three reporters talk about some famous actors and actresses. For safety reasons, I haven't put them together with my music cassettes, but in another drawer of my bookcase.

This afternoon, I felt like listening songs from the radio; as soon as I heard one that sounded nice, I decided to record it. I went to the bookcase, I opened the drawer, took a cassette and started recording on it at once. Right at that moment, the phone rang; it was aunt Penelope, Alice's godmother, and asked me to drop in on her so that she could give me some cake. I left the tape-recorder working (something I had never done before) and went to her.

When I returned home twenty minutes later, I stopped the recording, I ejected the cassette and only then did I realize it was one of the two Gryparis had given me! I stood there dumbfounded, hardly believing what I had done! How could I be so absent-minded? How could I make such an incredible mistake? What am I going to say to Gryparis now? I thought, full of anxiety.

Friday, 28th February 1992

This morning I rallied my spirit and got into the managing director's office, with the damaged cassette in hand. With a sorrowful mien, I explained the situation to him, I apologized for the mistake and finally excused myself that my eight-year-old nephew got into my room, found the cassette, recorded on it songs from the radio, and when I noticed it was too late. "But... you keep my cassettes at a place where children get in?" wondered Gryparis – yet, strangely enough, he kept his composure. He didn't yell at me, he only asked me to bring the other cassette back to him on Monday...

Chapter 28: The Lucid Dreamer

Tuesday, 3rd March 1992

Inner Revelation: For many years now, before even coming to Janus, I have been spontaneously using advanced spiritual techniques, such as lucid dreaming (conscious control of dreams). To be more precise, during lucid dreams I often attempt and succeed in the following:

a) When I am in danger, I change the dream: for instance, when I am persecuted by villains, I consciously stop running, fight and beat them.

b) I prolong pleasant dreams.

c) I materialize or make disappear persons and things.

d) I hover or fly in the air.

e) I move objects with the power of my mind.

g) Night adventures: These are very impressive dreams, not lucid but extremely lifelike. Self-sense is very strong, places are delineated in detail, and there is a specific plot with a beginning, a middle, and an ending. When I finally wake up, I wonder that all this adventure was just a dream.

The creation of conscious dreams is called "lucid dreaming" and it can lead to higher awareness. The path of the dreamer is followed by many women in metaphysics. Nevertheless, "these women can be very dangerous," as it has been said by certain persons in Janus.

When I explained to the gurus what I can do, both Alexander and Harry sought to discourage me, claiming that lucid dreaming can lead to madness. More or less, they say it is a miracle I haven't gone mad yet! However, the other day Alexander admitted in class that with dream control someone can have experiences they haven't had in real life; moreover, they might go mad only if they cause lucid dreams 30 or 40 times in a row -which is rather unlikely.

At first I had been influenced negatively by the gurus and blocked lucid dreaming myself -but I don't believe them anymore. For the time being, I will go on attending Janus, but I am never going to talk about my night experiences to anybody again. From now on, I will keep my distance and teach myself...

Meditation technique for lucid dreaming

First of all, you will need two rosaries: one with 22 knots and one with 72 knots. Then, sit comfortably with your spine straight, and do the following:

5 rhythmical breaths: 4 times inhale – 2 times hold – 4 times exhale – 2 times hold.

22 mental mantras: for example, "The universe and I are one", counted calmly with the small rosary in hand.

144 (72+72) mental mantra in co-ordination with breathing: Inhale+mantra ‒ exhale+mantra, counted calmly twice with the the big rosary in hand.

Stay in "void space" for some minutes -the longer, the better. Then, give the mental order "Tonight I will get out of my body and be conscious in the astral plane" slowly, nine times. Let yourself go to sleep.

Thursday, 5th March 1992

Starting from today, I will be working as a typist in Pangaea. I don't like being an employee again, but given the circumstances this is the best choice I have. If I hadn't accepted this job, they would have hired another girl; consequently, I would lose my most important client, I would no longer be able to earn a living by working freelance and I would have to close my office, anyway.

I can't explain why, but Pangaea has actually been my only client for some months. There hardly came another client any more: the lawyers of the district are nowhere to see; a publisher who gave me many texts for translation hasn't appeared since December, and some other occasional clients are gone too. But why, indeed? Everybody admitted my typings and translations were flawless...

Anyway, this is my first day in Pangaea today, and there begin bus strikes which are expected to last long -in fact, they will last more than two months. I hope this is not a sign of fate...

Saturday, 7th March 1992

Strange night outing: I have arranged to meet the guys, at America Square in Patissia, at 8:00 in the evening. I leave home at 7:00, which is kinda late, because I was invited at the last moment -as usual. Until 7:30 there is no bus in sight, so I take a taxi to the bus-stop in Helioupolis. The cold is dreadful. Finally, I get on the bus no. 208, I get off at the terminus in the centre of Athens and then I take the tram to America Square. I arrive there at 8:30, full of agony and with few hopes to find my friends there. However, they are still there and they are waiting, not me -as I initially thought- but Nick, who finally turns up at 9:15! I wonder at their patience, since they never wait for me when I'm late, not even for a quarter of an hour! I have happened to be fifteen or twenty minutes late three times, and when I got at the venue I found no one there – which means I wasted almost four hours in the buses for nothing.

We go to a nearby Italian restaurant but it is closed. We end up in a packed and noisy taverna, where we pay through the nose. At about 11:00 we go for a drink at a nice pub, but I can stay there no more than half an hour, otherwise I will miss the last bus home. I leave without paying for my drink, because nobody can change my 5,000-drachma banknote.

I run to the bus-stop but I lose the 23:30 tram for one second, so I have to take a taxi to the bus terminus at Zappeion Park, hoping to catch the last bus to Glyfada. Before long I realize that the driver, a skinny old man, is a nutcase! He drives erratically, swerving or applying the brakes without any reason, as if trying to cause an accident! As he drives along Patission Avenue, he often gets too close to the car in front, or turns the steering wheel with jerky movements -almost crashing other cars. Moreover, he swears at any driver who happens to be near! At a moment, as we have stopped at the traffic lights, he suddenly turns the steering wheel to the right and the taxi sticks to a tram!

When we enter Stadiou Avenue, he starts driving as slowly as a turtle; then he draws alongside another taxi and waves to the driver to stop. The other one pulls over; my driver puts on the brakes, he steps out and hastens to the other taxi, obviously ready for a row; in the meanwhile time flies and I shout:

"Come back, please, or I will lose the last bus!"

He returns to me and starts the car again, but he is outraged.

"If you do this again, I will send you to the dentist!" he threatens.

"What?" I cry, hardly believing what's going on. "Stop now and let me get off, right now!" I demand, with the intention of writing down his car number and starting proceedings against the madcap.

Probably because he suspects something, he corrects his erratic driving at once, he begins to smile and tries to patch up things with inanities such as: "Oh, you are so wild, you have misunderstood me, you haven't even congratulated me on the nice ride!" and we finally reach the bus terminus at Zappeion, at 23:59! I give him the 5,000-drachma banknote and he gives me my change slowly, one note at a time, hoping to delay enough so that I lose the last bus and he gets an after-midnight fare to Glyfada, double tariff! I, however, not only wait patiently until I get all my change, but I also catch the last bus in the nick of time!

As soon as I find a seat, here comes another lunatic and sits right behind me. He coughs continuously, at the top of his voice, and he always tries to lean his knee on my hips. The bus is already full, the journey is too long, and there is no other place I could stand or sit. That was not an outing, that was Calvary! Was it worth the while? I don't think so...

Sunday, 15th March 1992

Lucid Dream: I asked it consciously while dreaming, and I saw some Lotto numbers being carved in relief on a stone surface: 6, 17, 25, 11, 21, 33, 9. Verification: The next winning numbers are 9, 17, 21, 29, 33, 35. I will get two fours and earn about 5.300 drachmas...۩

In search of a way out: My failure in meeting the guys last night (I was half an hour late and they didn't wait for me, which means I spent almost four hours in buses for nothing), led me to an outburst of realizations: No matter what I do, no matter where I go, the outcome will always be zero. In any case, I always have to answer to the others, yet nobody ever has to answer to me. At work I am always at the bottom of hierarchy; there is never anyone below me. The same thing happens with my social life: I am constantly criticized by everyone for the slightest thing, but nobody ever gives a dime about my opinion.

Enough is enough! I can't play the fool any more! I urgently need other alternatives in life and the most effective ones seem to be the following: a) Turn to the Left Path, b) Use of lucid dreams and astral projections as a magic technique, so as to have money and power.

Of course, this can be dangerous. Yet, what isn't dangerous? Isn't the unnatural, deathly immobility of my life dangerous? Or, now that I am a "good girl", all goes fine for me?

Tuesday, 24th March 1992

Night Adventure: I am travelling with my family by ship. I can't do well in certain tasks, while Alice does fine. My father has to set the sea on fire, so as to prevent some enemies from approaching and invading the ship. When we reach the port, he intends to kill me and I don't know why. However, I won't just sit there waiting for death. I start flying over the blazing sea, until I reach the coast and escape to a nearby wood. Yet, there is still danger, as my father is chasing me in a helicopter.

I hide in a clump of trees and then under a heap of leaves. My father takes another way, so he loses me. I get out of my hiding place and I end up in a public service. I ask the guards to let me hide in there but they don't let me in, so I neutralize them with karate blows. In the meantime my father has just arrived but he doesn't look threatening anymore: he smiles to me in a friendly way, probably because he is proud of my abilities now. Mum is with him and we all three go away together.

Interpretation: The dream shows my inner feeling of not being loved by my parents, especially in comparison with Alice, the star of our family. Probably, deep inside I feel they are hostile to me, and I wish I could prove my worth to them...

Thursday, 26th March 1992

Night Adventure: I am another woman, someone muscular, dynamic, with long blond hair, and I am wearing a warrior's outfit with a leather bodice. A handsome blond man is flirting me and I like him. However, there is a red-haired woman who claims him and I feel jealous. We all belong to a wild tribe of the desert. She and I fight for him, I knock her down, I take her bodice off and reveal her flat, childlike breasts. I leave her alone, as the fight is over now and the blond man is mine. In the distance there is an elephant cemetery; a horrible monster is expected to rise from there, and I will have to fight against it...۩

The real purpose of life: I have come to believe that life is not the best thing that could happen to a soul. It is traumatic to live. Instead of experiencing higher levels of existence, the soul is trapped in a perishable physical body, and it has to comply with one sole order: "Survive!" Every moment of life, the soul is obliged to obey this order; yet the physical body is by nature mortal, as it degenerates day by day until it dies, usually of disease, old age, or both.

In general, we have to toil very hard every day in order to "earn our daily bread", often without much success. We usually need to fight tooth and nail in order to achieve a minimum result – and at the first mistake everything may fall apart.

The purpose of life is pain. We are born to know pain in its various forms. Each person is born with a personal fate, that is a specific kind of pain which will accompany him or her in life: famine, war, physical or mental illness, poverty, injustice, failure, misfortune etc. Sooner or later, most people end up in an almost complete lack of awareness, so they get accustomed to chronic pain and they can hardly realize it's there; in this way, they can endure their lives.

We come in life so as to perpetuate it; not to have fun. In fact, the more miserable a society is, the more offspring it produces. The poor always have more children than the rich, and they use them either as young workers, or as "hope for their old age". The rich seldom have more than two children, because they would rather live their lives than spend their days changing diapers.

In the countries of the Third World, where disease, famine, destitution and death reign in every corner, women breed continuously and each one of them brings 8-12 children into the world. Most of them die before reaching adulthood; those who survive suffer endless misery, yet they all look forward to becoming parents themselves. As a result, the population increases vertically. In two words: Life thrives in pain. Life is pain and vice versa.

All in universe is One and the relation which connects them all is this: "Your death is my life". This truth is more obvious in the realm of life: The survival of each living creature depends on the death of other creatures. "Eat or be eaten" as people say. On the other hand, the prevalence of the mighty in the battle of survival is often apparent or short-lived. A microbe can kill the "king of the jungle", the lion. A tiny, brainless virus can exterminate thousands of clever, educated, civilized humans. The fall of a meteor eliminated the magnificent dinosaurs sixty billion years ago. Nevertheless, the humble snail -one of the first creatures that walked the earth- still exists despite its small size, its inability to harm other creatures and its slow evolution. It doesn't evolve because it doesn't need to evolve...

Sunday, 29th March 1992

Night Adventure: Someone tortures souls by dissecting their astral bodies with huge bone instruments. He holds a dead baby boy in his lap and bores his scull with a strange lancet. The baby tries to find consolation in the thought that the astral body is immortal; he looks like a living dead, he punches the enemy with his tiny fists but he can't escape...

Lucid Dream: I meet Nestor, a handsome guy from the advanced class in Janus, and I consciously ask him to give me the winning Lotto numbers. He offers them to me in a sort of riddle, but when I wake up I can't remember them well. The most possible combination is: 3, 7,10, 30, 33, 34. Verification: Some of these numbers will come out in Proto; I will get right the last three numbers and earn about 8,000 drachmas. However, the very next day I will have to give that sum of money to a doctor, because of a nasty otitis...

Tuesday, 8th April 1992

Once again, the lesson at Janus made me think: What does Alexander (and all gurus) mean when he talks about "breaking the Ego"? Mainly, it is the suppression of personal judgement and will. However, when you have no judjement and will of your own, then you blindly accept the judgement and will of somebody else.

The methods used by spiritual masters so as to break their disciples' Ego are mostly red herrings, sophistry or rhetorical tricks; the listeners seldom oppose to them, because of excessive psychological pressure they are usually subjected to. The same methods can be used to drive someone mad. In the end, the victims consider it as the greatest honour and happiness to serve an authority or a master. Schools of spiritual development are no different to the army: They teach you how to fight but never for your personal interest; it is always for a supposedly superior authority.

As about religions, what are they really?

"I always tell you to meditate and observe yourselves so as to strengthen your souls. Nevertheless, who knows what really awaits us after death, to the Other Side? Imagine some sort of aliens waiting there, ready to be fed with strong souls!" Alexander said at a moment, in a rather equivocal manner.

"I wouldn't rule out that possibility," agreed Peter – one of the few in our class the guru thinks high of...

Saturday, 11th April 1992

One more of those days, when all goes abnormally wry: In the morning I went to Alimos, so as to buy ink-tapes for my typewriter. Yet, they don't sell on Saturdays, they told me. Why do they open the shop, then? Later, I spent some time with Alice and our cousin Niki but I couldn't avoid the usual boredom: These two are married with children, respectable persons in society; they don't even bother to conceal their contempt for me.

At 9:30 in the evening I had an appointment with the guys at America Square. It has been drizzling all day today and I couldn't decide whether to go or not. So, I lost the 8:00 o' clock bus to Athens for one second. The next one appeared at 8:30. The tram dragged along Panepistimiou Avenue like a half-slaughtered hen. I preferred to get off and take a bus but I accidentally missed the bus-stop at America Square. I finally made it to my destination at 10:05. Naturally, there was nobody there. I got on the first tram that came along, I got off at Omonia Square, then I was too bored to wait for another tram and walked all the way to the bus terminus at Zappeion Park. The bus to Glyfada got a breakdown -luckily not very far from St Tryfon Square: I only had to walk for twenty minutes to reach home. In all, I toiled for four and a half hours for nothing...

The bonds of fate: Ever since I was a little girl, I often have to work very hard in order to achieve a minimal or even negative result. Anyway, it has just occurred to me that if too many difficulties appear while doing something, it should not be continued or it will lead to disaster. There are external, invisible, omnipotent forces which define our destiny, in total disregard of our personal will and actions. Every moment in life is preordained from "above". Even our intelligence, abilities and talents are preordained by these forces; DNA is a matter of luck.

There is no flying from fate. Nobody can escape their destiny by acting on the physical plain. No matter what you do to escape from destiny, fate will eventually lead you where it wants by producing all the necessary coincidences and circumstances. In spite of our effort to make this world a better place, nothing ever really changes.

But, maybe, there is a way out: Conscious dream control and intervention in the astral plane may affect the flow or reality. A dreamer witch should not be a prey to the forces of fate...

Tuesday, 14th April 1992

Before going to Janus, I paid a visit to Aphrodite -I've liked doing so lately. This afternoon she was not alone, though: there was also a young man there. Aphrodite introduced him to me as Zisis, her new boyfriend, whom she already lives with. He seems to be a polite, nice guy; the three of us discussed various subjects and he proved to be an interesting person; he has sympathy with metaphysics too: he used to carry out astral projections but for some strange reason he can't anymore; yet, he can still see people's auras, he said.

"Can you see anything on me?" I asked him.

"You give me the impression of someone who has been searching and searching... what have you really been searching for, Yvonne?"

I shrugged my shoulders, wondering at his question; I thought that after the lengthy conversation we had just had, it would be obvious to him what I've been looking for -that is metaphysical knowledge.

"Can you see anything on my aura?" I insisted.

"Your thoughts are very intense; I can feel them slipping away to the universe and then they come back from the universe..."

That strange declaration of his made me think for a while, as I felt it contained a vestige of truth -I can't say what exactly.

"Do you see this only on me or on other people too?" I asked calmly.

"I haven't seen it on anybody else" he replied.

Later, at Janus, we all had a pleasant surprise: Alexander finally agreed to our attempting a technique for astral projection in class, which consists of the following steps:

We focus on the flame of a candle placed in front of us

Mental mantra (mine is: ''the universe and I are one'')

Physical relaxation

Mental countdown from 10 to 0.

Reaching the "void space", we observe the image of the flame which is shaped in the darkness of our shut eyes.

We open our eyes slowly, then close them again.

Mental countdown from 10 to 0 (twice)

We envisage coming out of our physical body and entering the guru's body (!). Always imagining that our astral body is inside Alexander, we envisage going out, to the reception, so as to see the object Harry has placed on the table.

The result was rather disappointing: Everybody failed except Mary, who "saw" that the copper statuette of Oros had been moved away from its usual place. Mary happens to be the most obedient of Alexander's stooges but, paradoxically, she is still in our "low" class. Anyway, I suspect her success was just a foul play, so as to show this special telepathy experiment was not just a flop...

Wednesday, 22nd April 1992

Night Adventure: I attend a memorial service for grandma Jenny. All relatives are in her old house, while she is lying inside a coffin on the big table. Suddenly, grandma sits up and starts talking. My father can't see, because his resurrected mother sees through his eyes. She can walk and move among us now; I am scared and I shout to her; then I say prayers like "Paternoster" in the hope of sending her away. Finally grandma disappears but I am still afraid and act as if she were still present.

Later on, I cross a bridge over a lake. When I reach the other side, I find myself in a picturesque village built on a hill, somewhere in Italy. However, not all is idyllic there: soon I find out that its earthen streets are studded with bones and skeleton parts. I walk along these streets in agony, feeling the bones under my shoe soles.

Interpretation: The very next day we will receive bad news regarding uncle George, my mother's brother. He suffers from lung cancer and he's left only a few months to live. Isn't it really horrible, to be sentenced to death and know it...

Thursday, 7th May 1992

Work experience in Pangaea: Yota, a disagreeable stammerer (very rich, though) is responsible for English correspondence. She has studied History of Art in America (studies for the satiated), yet she commits quite a few grammar and syntax errors when she writes letters in English. Strangely enough, none of the bosses -who sign her letters- has noticed anything. Moreover, Yota doesn't even suspect what filing is: She sends letters to various museums and photograph agencies all over the world asking for transparencies, yet she never keeps copies of them! They haven't noticed that either.

Naturally, I wouldn't dare say anything about it. If I commented on anything like that, I would fall out with Yota and all the other colleagues would hate me. Of course, this means that my knowledge of languages and secretarial skills is entirely indifferent to the company. They don't give a dime if I know perfect English and Italian, as well as very good German and Spanish. Obviously, there are other kinds of qualifications companies really appreciate in employees...

Saturday, 16th May 1992

Night Adventure: Alien robots have taken over the Earth. They keep us prisoners in small, yellow cells furnished only with a bed. They let us out only if we are to carry out certain tasks for them. As far as I've heard, those aliens reached the Earth because of someone who made the mistake of trusting them. I notice that adjacent cells communicate through a small window, high on the inner wall. I wonder whether I could use these windows to come in contact with other prisoners.

Interpretation: Maybe mankind is under occupation of an alien race, who keeps us isolated and mislead us into performing certain duties with unknown purposes...

Tuesday, 26th May 1992

Lucid Dream: Between sleep and awake I dream of Billy, an obnoxious, ugly, fat, hairy guy who is a classmate in Janus. He is lying next to me in bed now, he is restless, he shouts, he puts his legs on my chest, he molests me. "You don't mind, do you?" he asks foolishly and I resent him. Then, the dream becomes lucid and it occurs to me this could be a possible future; but luckily, it is only for one night. In this way, I learn to appreciate what I have, that is solitude and calmness in bed.

Verification; A few days later, Aphrodite will inform me that Billy is interested in lucid dreaming a lot, and Alexander has been teaching him in private! What a serious person for the guru to teach personally! Is Bill supposed to be balanced enough for this? ...۩

In the evening I met the whole party -Vanessa, Theano, Aphrodite and Zisis- in a quiet cafeteria near my old office. I may never see Vanessa again: Next week she is leaving for Volos, her hometown, because her studies of Philosophy in the University of Athens are over now. I feel I miss her already. "I dislike it that you are leaving" I told her, a little before saying goodbye.

Wednesday, 27th May 1992

After that travesty of a lesson in Janus last night, I finally realized that all these years Alexander has been doing nothing but pulling our legs. Let me explain: After one and a half month of inaction, we finally carried out a telepathy experiment which "of course" proved to be a flop! Not even one of us managed to make a close guess of the object placed on the reception table. Alexander jumped at the chance to reprimand us all for being unworthy disciples and unready for such experiments. All thirty of us!

Yet, I wonder: If you take thirty persons from the streets at random and tell them to guess -without any prior meditation or preparation- what is placed on a table behind the door, in all probability at least one of them will guess right! However, thirty experienced disciples failed completely in making even a close guess! Therefore, I strongly suspect these experiments are put-up jobs!

I also think that, for some months now, Alexander has been applying a subtle mechanism of psychological war in his lessons: a) He talks continuously, usually without saying anything specific; I often feel as if I were subjected to hypnotic suggestion, b) He allows no one to express any opinion, c) He disrupts any conversation in class, d) If anyone manages to express a personal opinion, the guru treats them like a moron or a lunatic: "You read something, but you understand something else" or "Your sick Ego prevents you from seeing the truth" and so on.

In this way, a systematic, insidious ''breaking of the Ego'' is in progress within all of us: We no longer dare express an opinion, we make less and less questions, our self-confidence wanes day by day, we are gradually filled with guilt, our will gets weaker and weaker. Although we are bored in there, we stay from 9:00 pm to midnight every time.

As about me, I can see I am going back instead of ahead: I often feel very anxious and my hands sweat before saying anything in class – just like in the distant past, when I was a timid child. What the heck, I want to eliminate my timidness, not revive it!

Friday, 29th May 1992

Mankind consists of two basic races, vampires and victims. The former have the natural ability of absorbing energy from the latter, rendering them their puppets. On the other hand, victims enjoy certain rewards. The most common types of vampires are the following:

a) Boyfriends and husbands: Even in the modern, "feminist" society, a woman's thoughts and actions are focused mainly on one thing -how to satisfy her man. Otherwise, the woman has no man and she is non-existent to society. This is exactly what the male vampire offers the woman: A social position (as his wife or mistress) and an acceptable reason to leave (satisfy him sexually and have his children).

b) In a family, children are the most powerful vampires. With their cuteness, tricks, tears, mischief, as well as with their endless demands, they manage to keep their parents always busy -especially their mother. The proud parents offer all their time, money, thoughts and energy to sometimes unworthy children. On the other side, "What is the purpose of life? To have children, of course" claim all parents in robotic unison.

c) Popular persons: They are "the life and soul of the party", as it is often said. Indeed, in any party there is always one person who acts as a leader, although nobody can actually explain the reason why: in general, these persons are egocentric, frivolous and capricious. Yet, the popular person commands and the others carry out his or her orders with spontaneous joy. As about the reward, in this case it is socialization: the integration into a circle of friends, the avoidance of loneliness.

d) Energetic giants: These persons have a very high position in the hierarchy of humanity. They possess incredible financial power and world fame, usually from activities of dubious usefulness (actors and actresses, singers, top models, etc). Their most important talent is charm. The people just love to worship them like gods on earth.

e) Gurus and religious leaders: They are the most powerful vampires of all, as they have the unique ability of mesmerizing millions of people. In this case, absorption of energy takes place in deeper levels, since religious leaders are obeyed and worshiped by entire populations, while they systematically rouse guilt and terror. As about the "flock", they are willing to blindly accept even the most paranoiac religious dogmas and they are proud of it. Concerning their reward, what could be more alluring than the promise of a blissful "life after death" – even if it is intended only for "a few, chosen ones"?

f) Gestalt entities such as political parties, organizations, sects, companies: These are bigger or smaller groups of people which act as sovereign vampiric entities. A company consists of it employees, but it is not its employees; it is an entirely different entity with its own needs, goals and way of thinking. Companies are very demanding vampires: They want us to give them the best hours of our days (from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm), the best years of our lives (from 20 to 65), our full attention and the maximum of our potential any minute. As a reward they provide a usually miserable survival, a boring routine and a rather dubious security.

In general, vampires are gifted with excessive charm, personal magnetism (sex appeal), shrewdness and eloquence. They are easy to recognize, as they monopolize every conversation in an almost psychotic manner, and they manage to catch attention spontaneously, in a natural way. They are often arrogant and aggressive, yet everybody finds them lovely.

The roles of the vampire and the victim may be interchanged -according to the circumstances: In different environments, a vampire may become a victim and vice versa. For example, an employee/victim offers all his energy to the company/vampire he works for, but when he is at home he becomes a husband/vampire who demands from his wife/victim to give him all her attention and energy. Nevertheless, a truly powerful vampire never becomes a victim.

It is a fact that victims seek vampires -not vice versa. A vampire is like a magnet. It is not attracted, it attracts. Actually, victims are unable to live without offering their energy to vampires: People who don't really need to work go crazy if they stay unemployed for two months; many women complain that their man exploits or maltreats them, however they don't even think of staying single for more than one week; without a male to serve, they feel useless and unworthy of living. The truth is that victims are attracted to vampires. Probably, the absorption of energy acts as an anesthetic too: on one hand it weakens the victims, on the other hand exhaustion is often screened by the sweet delight of "offering".

Vampirism is the conjunctive tissue of mankind. The human society, in whole, is structured upon this basic relation of interdependence between vampires and victims. Social institutions (such as religion, family, work) are nothing but different faces of vampirism...

Monday, 1st June 1992

Night Adventure: It is late at night and I am in bed, inside a medieval castle. Outside my window I can see lofty stone arches and an orchard in the distance. I want to go to sleep but certain noises distract me; I try to ignore them, but I can't. I get up and start looking for the origin of the annoying noises. The stone walls of the castle are thick and gray; the wooden doors are arched. I close a window which has been left open and I go back to bed.

Right then three girls, aged about twelve, appear timidly at the threshold of my bedroom, chaperoned by their old nanny. They are dressed in long, white nightgowns and nightcaps. They hold an oil lamp and they look at me in wonder.

"What do you want?" I ask them.

"We live here" the first one answers.

"Since when?" I wonder.

"Ever since we were born!"

At this point I wake up and I still feel confused...۩

My friends are getting harder and harder to meet. There is more and more pressure at work; Yota's pungent remarks about a writer of Pangaea who wasn't paid in time because I was too late in typing his entry, as she said. The ironic laughs of children on the road; this evening, as soon as they saw me, they shouted "here comes the vampire!" Everybody thinks they are my boss! I can't stand them anymore!

For days now I have been drowning in a whirl of violent emotions. I strongly want to punish the others for all the things they do to me. I feel I don't love humans. Ever since I was born, they have been launching all kinds of psychic attacks against me: They deride me, they underestimate me, they tell tales about me, they are unfair to me, they undermine me, they hoodoo on me. Right at this moment I am overwhelmed with terrible wrath, which could be used as a carrier of black magic. Could this be my inner inclination?

Sunday, 14th June 1992

Night Adventure: A football match begins at a nearby pitch but it is disrupted soon, because something is very wrong. All of a sudden, alien monsters appear from all directions: reddish beings which look like gigantic octopuses, spectral whirlwinds, enormous spider-like insects etc. I, together with other people, run to the mountain so as to escape, while weird liquid objects keep falling from the sky. At that moment, a white substance rises over the tombs and the cypress-trees of the old cemetery, and it gradually forms something like a dinosaur's skeleton on the night sky. Someone shouts we should all run away together...۩

It is high time I started observing Silence. I need to keep my mouth shut, since I am not able to ignore the other people's opinion. Anyway, the others can't possibly approach the fascinating worlds of my dreams; that's why they usually show disbelief, boredom or envy. Even when they seem to be interested in my experiences, I should be reserved and keep silent.

Unfortunately, I tend to talk a lot and ask for approval or advice because I am insecure inside. I also like to believe that the narration of psychic experiences will make me a more interesting person -but this has always proved to be wrong: Even Aphrodite and Theano, who are my best friends in Janus, seem to be more interested in sexual experiences than parapsychology; as a result, I often encounter disapproval, disbelief, or ironic remarks. The fact is that this situation affects me negatively, it makes me doubt about myself and it blocks my development.

The soul is a sacred place, a sanctum. Nothing sacrilegious must invade there: no harmful information, no malevolent mouths or ears. For this reason, the law of silence must be observed...

Saturday, 20th June 1992

Night Adventure: I, as well as many other women, drive cars along a big avenue full of traffic, strange turns and obstacles. Driving proves to be very difficult, we have to manoeuvre a lot in order to stay on the right course, until we reach some bright traffic lights. We get off there, men take our cars and they drive comfortably along straight roads, until they finish. They all win a trip abroad as a prize. Women are left behind. Interpretation: Possibly, the dream symbolizes the roles of the two sexes in our society...۩

In the afternoon I went to the nursery school "The Little Castle", so as to watch the celebration for the end of the school term. Josef, my three-year-old nephew, took part in one of the sketches, showing unexpected shyness. I had a very nice time, realizing the importance of every moment: All what happened during those two hours was unique, nothing like that will ever happen again. It was also evident to me that those who are destined to be distinguished in life, take this path from a very early age – like the cute little girl who was dressed as Minnie...

Sunday, 26th July 1992

Prophetic dream: I am at a nice beach with blond sand and a few sunbathers. A lofty, black water tank dominates the place. I slowly get into the sea, wearing my black swimsuit. I enjoy swimming in the clear blue water; Aphrodite is with me. Verification: The beach of Kourouta that I will unexpectedly visit on the 9th of August.

Another prophetic dream: I am in a travelling coach. I am seated by the window, my mother is next to me. We pass through narrow streets with old, half-ruined houses. Later, I notice a blue car which has the number 2504. Verification: The trip to Kranidi on the 15th of August... ۩

This is the first day of my illustrated manuscript "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", which I start writing today. I feel great, like being born again! Sandra Anderson is a revolutionary cosmonaut, who fights against evil all over the universe. Her stories are structured in a very unusual way: In a separate notebook I have written down some of my memories, fantasies, as well as night adventures, classified in certain categories: Start of story – Main events – Secondary events – Cosmic truths – Fights – Dialogues – Space and time – End of story.

Each item corresponds to a card of the Egyptian tarot. I draw a card at random for the category I need each time, I develop the respective item into one or more paragraphs, and thus I gradually form a full story...

* * * *

Thursday, 6th August 1992

Since yesterday afternoon I have been here, at Alexander's asram, somewhere in Peloponnese, together with other guys from Janus. It is a quite large field full of nut-trees, at the shadow of which we have put up our tents. To the north there is a wood of fir-trees; to the east, a spring forms a babbling stream at the shadow of a lofty plane-tree. Green hills crown the horizon to the south and west. The landscape is picturesque and peaceful, yet the weather is too hot and I already feel disappointed. What shall we be doing under the scorching sun so many hours every day?

Friday, 7th August 1992

Endless conversations about metaphysics and self-knowledge by the burbling stream, at the shadow of an old plane-tree. Obviously, it is a battle for prevalence: Fat Savvas (what a moron!) acts the guru and everybody takes their hat off to him. Men are all around Aphrodite, maybe because she is cool, feminine, sensual. As about me, they treat me with hostile indifference. Nobody ever talks to me, neither do they listen when I say something. They act as if I were not there at all. If my good friends, Aphrodite and Theano, weren't present, I would be a complete stranger here. Nevertheless, I don't care about what people think about me; not any more...

Saturday, 8th August 1992

Alexander has been pressing us importunately so that each one of us reveals their innermost secret before everybody. He insists we can't advance in metaphysics unless we confess our secrets to the others. I feel confused. What can I do? How can I reveal that at the age of 29 I have never had a relationship with a man, without becoming the laughing stock of Janus? At the same time, I feel guilty because I can't reveal in public what I am.

On the other hand, how can I trust someone who is always scolding us because we don't consider him a god? At night, during dinner, there was unexpected merriment among us. Alexander hastened to tell us off because "we all revel foolishly and forget our spiritual course". Some of the disciples tried to assure him this is not the case, but he refused to listen and started singing in a plaintive voice, carrying everybody along to a sad "concert" full of guilt.

Sunday, 9th August 1992

It is early in the afternoon and we are all sitting around the big wooden table. We have just had lunch and the guru wants to show us how much he loves Bessy, his big, pitch-black, hairy dog. Quite a few times he has made clear to us he deems his dog equal to any human being – this time, however, he intends to show us too: He takes the bitch in his lap, he holds her as if she were a baby, and says tenderly: "This is my child! Is she any different from a child?".

Then, he explains it is necessary for all dog owners to masturbate their dogs, in case the animal hasn't got the possibility to find a mate during the mating season. Next moment, he puts his finger in the dog's vagina and the animal writhes accordingly for a few seconds, while Alexander is looking at us with a mockingly. I am flabbergasted, I don't like this at all, but I say nothing. The rest of the disciples stay silent and calm, as if that were something absolutely natural, something you see every day.

As for the rest: I can no longer stand the heat of August! The sun is scorching us from 10:00 am to 6:00 pm every day. It is impossible for us to stand anywhere on the field or even have a nap after lunch, because the tents get extremely hot under the blazing sun. The only thing we can do is sit at the shadow of the plane-tree and wait patiently for the hours to pass. Everybody suffers but nobody expresses the slightest displeasure. I am the only one who keeps complaining to my friends, everybody knows about it and they all look askance at me.

Monday, 10th August 1992

This afternoon, however, after hours of negotiations, the guru finally gave us permission to go to the beach of Kourouta for a swim. So, we got in three cars (I was nearly left outside; no group looked willing to include me) and we drove for forty-five minutes until we reached the seaside. During the journey I was feeling rather isolated, as I was in a car with five men who didn't utter a word. Not that I actually cared; I enjoyed the scenery of the picturesque golden-green hills, the blooming nature, the loud music, the speed.

The beach was very big, with blond sand and only a few people. Then I noticed the lofty, black water tank and I remembered the dream of 26th July; I recognized the place. I got into the sea together with Aphrodite and Theano, the water was wonderful -just what I needed in the summer heat- but, after fifteen minutes exactly, we heard a voice calling us to get out now, urgently.

We found ourselves walking on the sand, without knowing where we were going and why; then we reached the cars, we got in and departed for the asram at once, as if we were being persecuted! This means we drove for one and a half hours in all, just for a fifteen-minute swim! None of the other disciples found that strange –and none of them will even think of suggesting our going for a swim again...

Tuesday, 11th August 1992

When Aphrodite and I decided to ask John, one of Alexander's most advanced disciples, why we left the beach so hurriedly yesterday, he answered in a casual style: "Come on, guys, we've spoken so many times about how harmful sunbathing is because of the hole in the ozone layer! If we don't observe what we say, then what are we doing?"

I didn't contradict him but I wondered: When we left the seaside the time was 6:30 in the afternoon; how harmful would it have been, if we had stayed for fifteen more minutes? All things considered, I believe yesterday's excursion was one of Alexander's tricks, aiming to keep his disciples in subjection: He doesn't allow them to enjoy anything, so that they don't demand anything.

In the meantime, Savvas has been trying to show off how "cool" and "liberated" he is. He won't even hesitate to undress before everybody and have a bath with the water hose (luxuries of the asram). My friends hastened to follow his brilliant example at once and everyone admired their courage. Of course, I didn't even think of doing anything like that. I am not that liberated and I admit it.

Nevertheless, something very weird must be going on with me: Listening to the numerous erotic adventures of Theano and Aphrodite, I realize how odd my case is. It is not that I once had some love affairs which were not consummated; I am talking about absolute zero in love! I have never dated three times the same man! After the second date (tops) either he disappears or I make myself scarce! Isn't this a mystery?

Wednesday, 12th August 1992

This is our last morning at the asram: The beauty of the spring, the peace and quite of the surrounding nature, breakfast around the big wooden table. Aphrodite, Costas, Vangelis and I in a white car, driving fast over magical copper-green hills, listening to fine rock music. When we reach the city of Pylos, we sit at a round metal table in a small bistro and we drink coffee, waiting for the coach to arrive. Unique moments in the endless space and time...

Thursday, 13th August 1992

Night Adventure: A culture of a unicellular organism proliferates rapidly until it forms a reddish mass which looks like thickened blood and it covers a vast expanse of land. When it is cut with iron scissors, it is dried out. People are obliged to live on the dry culture, inside uniform metal quarters, while the dried, half-dead organism stirs under their feet. The children don't want to play outside because they can feel something is wrong, but their parents compel them to do so.

Soon I am informed that the only way to prevent humans from being destroyed is to do away with technology. People must learn how to handle the energy of light, they must learn how to work with light. Only in this way can they beat the horrible danger which lurks under their feet...

Saturday, 15th August 1992

This morning I went on an excursion to Ermioni with my parents, with a view to buying a piece of land for future exploitation. I didn't find anything worth the while, yet I relished some unique moments in time: the polite woman at the souvenir shop; the cheerful foreigners in the yachts; the small forest with the winding path; the white chapel; the ruined red house; the rocky beach, full of sea-urchins; the gorgeous blue-eyed man in the ferry-boat back home. Happy moments I will soon forget...

The real profit from the excursion: As the coach was passing through the village of Kranidi, I recognized the narrow street and the old houses I had dreamt of on the 26th of July; a little later I saw a blue car with the number 2504...

Thursday, 20th August 1992

In the afternoon we paid a visit to uncle George, who was diagnosed with lung cancer four months ago. His wife, aunt Despina, who is usually full of malice and grumble, seems to be calm now. On the other side, uncle George looks restless and discouraged; understandable, since his disease is getting worse and he is already in pain. "When I see people walking on the roads, I feel sorry for them because they don't even suspect what the future has in store for them!" he says.

The spectre of death already lingers in the rooms of the house, yet neurotic aunt Despina moves around with a liveliness I have never seen on her before. Moreover, her huge flatulent belly has now disappeared...

Friday, 21st August 1992

Lucid Dream: I am in a train but my head is too high and I can see the sky above the roof. Then I realize I am sleeping and I start praying in a low voice: "Virgin Mary, Mother of God, help me". An azure, spectral cross is formed before me, yet there is darkness all around me. "This cross will cure my uncle George and will protect him from all evil," I say aloud and push the cross away. It looks smaller and smaller as it slips away, further and further in the distance.

Verification: I won't manage to cure uncle George, but he will be lucky enough to escape from the "big pains". In the beginning of December he will need a cylinder of oxygen but aunt Despina will be nagging him not to use it very often, for reasons of economy. Finally, one night the bottle will accidentally be left on and all oxygen will evaporate, drying the air and my uncle's lungs. He will die peacefully in his sleep because of lack of oxygen...

Sunday, 23rd August 1992

Night Adventure: The commander of a spaceship secretly collects extraterrestrial organisms and brings them on board. Soon they escape from their cells and gradually contaminate all the crew. The aliens look like fat, short, rosy anthropoids. I, together with others, run to higher and higher levels of the spacecraft in the hope of escaping, until I find myself in a big restaurant with purple round tables and chairs. I cross the room, I find an officer and explain to him what's going on. Then, I keep on running.

Outside, on the planet, the situation is even worse: Horrible watery beings contaminate humans and transform them into aliens. Initially, the contaminated don't look any different from normal people, but they can't maintain a solid form for long. I run up a spiral stairway to higher and higher levels of the craft, till I reach the top. However, the aliens are still after me, there is no hope. My guns can stop them only for a while. While trying to defend myself, I accidentally find out that water turns the contaminated into humans again. Using a hose as a gun, I sprinkle them all with water, but more and more aliens arrive from all directions; I am in agony, yet I can feel the enemies admire me.

At that moment I realize this is a dream and I feel relieved: if it gets tougher, I can change it or even stop it. Anyway, I finally manage to outrun my persecutors and, always running, I reach lower levels of the spaceship, where I find out an exit, just in time, before my enemies get too close.

A likely interpretation: Alien organisms contaminate and control earthlings, although human beings don't suspect anything. Does water neutralize the invaders? Have I arrested the attention of hostile, extraterrestrial entities?

Chapter 29: Self-determination

Tuesday, 6th October 1992

Lessons at Janus started again last month, but they are still meaningless and boring. We don't learn anything new and there is no practice. The guru wastes all our time complaining about delayed fees. In addition, he allows nobody to say anything in class any more, as he doesn't tolerate even the slightest indication of a personal opinion.

Sometimes we are given lessons by Harry, the brightest example of obedience in Janus, who trumpets forth that: "Disciples who are entirely subjected to their master, have a good chance of reaching illumination – no matter who the master is, no matter if the master is a complete idiot! It doesn't matter who you obey; the important thing is to obey!"

This evening we had a celebration in class. It proved to be a fiasco: as usual, the guru monopolized all conversations, emphasizing that he is in total control of our lives now and that he knows exactly what we are doing every moment. He got on my nerves but... Could he be serious about that?

Later, on my way home, a lunatic on the bus scared me: He sat right opposite to me and kept shouting, swearing and gesticulating during the whole journey, while the bus was full and there was no other seat vacant. I am getting sick and tired of this all...

Saturday, 10th October 1992

Since the beginning of the month I have been in two minds whether to leave Janus or not, until the following incident happened at Danae's this evening: There were eight persons from our class invited, we all sat together in the living room, but there was a strange silence among us; the TV was on, we all gaped at it, but we neither watched anything nor uttered a word. There was only embarrassment, frigidity, absolute lack of communication.

"Shall we turn it off and talk a little?" I suggested calm, after an hour of exasperation.

"I would like it to be on!" someone retorted with an air of importance.

"Me too!" another one seconded and the others agreed, probably because they all wanted to oppose me.

Anyway, we stayed there for about three hours doing nothing but stupidly looking at the screen. We hardly talked, I was bored to death, I got furious and I decided to leave Janus for good. By the way, how "spiritual" can someone be, if they can't resist the telly? What have we been doing all these years?

Monday, 12th October 1992

Night Adventure: I am in the yard of a monastery, among many people. Something extraordinary is about to happen, something we've been waiting for a long time. Could it be Judgement Day? I wonder.

There is a lot of agitation now, as crowds of people hurry towards an arched gate. I follow too, although nobody knows if we are heading for Heaven or Hell. Reaching the gate, there is a white, marble stairway before us; a hawk goes up the steps, next to some people; it scares me although I can hear them say it is a good demon.

Next moment, the hawk screeches loudly and it changes form within a bright light. I am in agony, as I am not sure whether it will be transformed into an angel or a demon. No, it will be an angel, I finally decide and indeed, the bird becomes an angel with white wings: It has the form of a beautiful woman with blond hair, dressed in a white long dress, who beams with tranquility and wisdom.

Suddenly, the woman changes form again: She is holding an infant in her hands now and she hasn't got wings anymore. I recognize Mother Mary with baby Jesus. She leads us all to a spacious room, full of chairs. Some kind of lecture is about to begin in there. There are only four or five persons sitting at the front row, but I prefer to wait for others to arrive. The preacher, who is Jesus Christ, begins his speech by announcing his Second Coming at the beginning of the New Age.

Thursday, 15th October 1992

This afternoon I visited my friend Aphrodite; I found her home alone and she looked kinda strange. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she confided in me that during the last two hours (that is immediately after I had phoned her) incredible things had happened: All of a sudden she felt like suffocating and, without even thinking about it, she left home, she went to find Zisis' best friend, and asked to have sex with him at once! The guy was not alone, he was in the company of a friend. The latter, as soon as he got wind of what was happening, sought to leave; yet, Aphrodite didn't let him go, making clear she didn't mind having sex with both of them! "I felt very liberated when I had sex with two men at the same time, and I had no problem that one of them was my lover's best friend! Now it is all crystal clear to me: Love is one thing, sex is another! There can be sex without love!" she concluded with an air of expertise.

A little later Zisis arrived home. Aphrodite sent me to the kitchen and she told her boyfriend everything, with all details. I heard some shouts, then silence for about half an hour. I was beginning to wonder, when they called me to their room. The window was wide open despite the freezing cold, but the place stank awfully, like vomit. In fact, I had never smelt anything so disgusting in my whole life. I suppose it was some kind of narcotic – taking into account that Zisis often provides Aphrodite with hashish, and who knows what else. I felt very embarrassed but I acted the fool. "Now I want you even more!" said Zisis to his girlfriend in a mawkish voice, and hugged her tenderly. Is all this madness, or what?

Monday, 14th December 1992

I left Janus behind two months ago, but I've always felt the urgent need to find new friends. Therefore, as soon as I quit Janus, I enrolled in a local school of folk dances, together with my sister. During the first month, there was a crowd on the dance floor: about 45 persons had initially joined the class of beginners. Yet, it didn't take me long to understand that certain pupils are already professional dancers! Sometimes, the teacher tells them to dance in a separate circle, so that the rest of us can see "how people dance". Then, it is obvious that these persons have a relationship with the teacher, as they are: his wife, his wife's sister, the boyfriend of his wife's sister, his sister, his sister's boyfriend, his brother-in-law and so on.

Before the beginning of the lesson and during the ten-minute break there is always an atmosphere of ostentatious hilarity in the class, as mocking laughs and jokes echo everywhere. There are two jolly friends, Lisa and Nina (both are good friends of the teacher's wife) who catch all attention with their shouts, giggles and claptrap; it's evident they consider the dance school as their own property. Nobody seems to mind that, on the contrary everybody fawns upon them. Alice has often tried to join their clique; yet, for some strange reason she was frowned upon, so she has quit trying.

The only pupil I used to speak to was Catherine, a 17-year-old nice girl; however, since the beginning of the month she hasn't appeared at all, and she is not the only one who has disappeared: out of 45 people, now there are only 20 left – namely the teacher's kin and a few more persistent persons like Alice, me and four or five others. Those few who don't belong to the teacher's clique, are always under pressure to split: When we dance in a circle, we are always pushed to the rear places; moreover, we are often scolded or ridiculed by the teacher: "It's a good thing there aren't any injuries!" he says ironically, meaning two young men who don't have a great talent at dance, yet they do their best. Or, he mockingly mimics some pupils (maybe me too) by dancing a spasmodic dance, complaining that "certain people in here dance like wooden puppets". Alice and I play the fools because we like folk dances and we prefer not to make much of this nonsense. Anyway, we don't intend to become professionals or steal anybody's glory; we just dance for fun.

We were waiting for today's lesson to start, as I suddenly saw Nina running fast towards me. Before even realizing what's going on, she was already close to me; she jumped on the air in no time and with a loud martial cry she feigned kicking me on the face, stopping her right leg just a few inches from my head! Obviously, the slut wanted to prove to her friends she can jump "that high" -and they all laughed in satisfaction. As about me, I just smiled about the "joke". I didn't react dynamically, because I didn't want them to think of me as an unsociable, humourless shrew. Despite the bad omens, I still try to look positive, sociable, pleasant etc. Or else, how will I ever find new friends?

* * * *

Monday, 25th January 1993

Since the beginning of the new year, the atmosphere at the dance school has been getting more and more hostile. The clique seems to be unable to tolerate the presence of the few "foreign bodies" anymore, and the teacher keeps saying that "three or four persons spoil the whole class". Alice, who is a really good dancer, still remains at the rear places of the circle -just like I do, of course.

This afternoon she couldn't contain herself and burst out before everybody, complaining that Lisa and Nina are always giggling and acting the giddy goat, annoying the rest of the pupils. Lisa responded immediately, declaring that "nobody else here has a problem with us". Indeed, no one dared second my sister and there was a lot of hubbub in the class, until Alice left the circle and walked away in indignation. I did the same. Then, a man's voice (Lisa's boyfriend) echoed all over the room: "Bravo Lisa!" and the whole clique clapped their hands in enthusiasm.

Monday, 8th February 1993

After the above incident, Alice never set foot in the dance school again; yet I still go there, ignoring the concentrated hostility which is persistently hovering over me. I haven't given up yet, maybe because I like folk dances, maybe because I have nothing better to do...

This afternoon a team of inspectors came to check our progress. In general, they were satisfied with us, but they made some remarks regarding the atmosphere of frivolity in the class and the teacher was obliged to reprimand certain persons. It served them right!

Monday, 15th February 1993

I have started to observe strange facts at the dance school: Certain young men, who can barely move their legs, have been promoted to the front places of the circle and they are properly instructed, even if it is obvious they lack talent.

Rania, a mediocre dancer, has also been promoted to the fourth place of the circle – probably because she has managed to join the clique. She usually wears a white blouse painted by her, like this:

Nutcase Rania

♂ + ♂ + ♀ = Ooooohh!

A word to the wise is enough...

This afternoon a new pupil turned up: It was Nick, Mrs Lemony's eldest son; the lady has been keeping herself busy with the church lately, and she has become quite wealthy ever since. Anyway, as soon as Nick said "Hello", he took the third place in the circle and none of the clique showed the slightest displeasure.

Sunday, 28th February 1993

Next Sunday my class will give a performance of folk dances at the old cinema "Paris". This afternoon it was the second time we all gathered there so as to rehearse. All pupils are supposed to be allowed to take part in the rehearsals but, naturally, only the best ones will be chosen.

I know I am not much of a dancer and I don't expect to perform in public; I just go to the rehearsals for my own pleasure. Yet, the wry faces I confronted these two times were out of this world! As soon as we finished the rehearsal today, the teacher congratulated everyone except "two or three persons who spoil the dances; but let's not always complain about them!"

Next Sunday Nick will be the only one who will take part in both kinds of folk dances -islands and mainland. Other dancers, better ones, will appear in one kind of dances only, or even in neither.

Sunday, 28th March 1993

Night Adventure: I am at the edge of Chaos but I am able to watch a struggle which takes place extremely far away, at the edge of a reddish, steamy hell: A brave warrior strives to save his son, who has fallen in there. He tries to pull the young man out with his two hands, but it seems to be too difficult. I wish to to go and help them, but I can't cross the incredible abyssal space between us...۩

As about the dance school, I am now left all alone among the proud members of the clique, as all the other "foreign bodies" have been removed. I can hardly stand at the rear of the circle now, as the others are clearly unwilling to hold my hands. I often need to run after them and make them hold my hands either they like or or not! Moreover, during the break I can barely endure all that concentrated negativity against me: It is impossible for me to exchange even a word with anyone in there; if I dare approach a group of pupils, they turn their faces the other way, they stop talking and they all split in a second. I often prefer to disappear from class during the ten-minute break. Anyway, I don't intend to set foot in that hornets' nest again...

Tuesday, 6th April 1993

Psychic Experience: After a relaxation exercise in bed this morning, I suddenly feel myself sinking in the void. Looking up, I realize I am falling down a black tunnel, the edge of which is a huge, toothed mouth of a snake. I fall faster and faster and I can't see the mouth anymore. I can only feel a cold, pleasant airstream coming up and down my spinal cord. I enjoy the sensation and I manage to prolong it for a few more seconds...

Prophetic Dream: I am at the foyer of the hotel ''Galactic'' in Saronis, together with my mother and my sister. We sit on plastic, purple chairs. An old man complains I have taken his seat. I disagree and tell him I haven't taken anybody's place. A young woman walks past us; she wears a long white blouse with the words ''Free Shop'' written with big black letters on her chest.

Verification: Next morning Alice informs us we should go to the Organization of Telephony in Helioupolis at once, so as to pay a delayed telephone bill. When mum, Alice and I arrive there, we sit on plastic purple chairs. Then I stand in a queue and the old man behind me complains I have taken his place. This isn't true, so I deny it by saying "I haven't taken anybody's place". Then, a young woman walks past me; she is wearing a long white blouse with the words ''Free Shop'' written with big black letters on her chest.

Wednesday, 28th April 1993

Psychic Experience: Early in the morning, after a meditation exercise, I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper inside; then I perceive a white, liquid yet vaporous substance spreading everywhere. Little by little, a colourless landscape starts to form out of this substance, and I walk about it. I feel wonderful, I hope it isn't just a dream; right at that moment, I realize it is a dream. I shut my eyes, empty my mind and fall into the void again, while I can feel a cold, pleasant airstream coming up and down my spine. I keep on sinking in a dark tunnel, until I discern a golden disc shining bright at its bottom. I hope to reach there but I wake up instead...۩

It's been a month now that I have been an employee of Pangaea, which means I am entitled to social security. For this reason I have decided to break my life insurance contract with the company "Easylife". This afternoon, as soon as I informed my insurance broker about it, he went berserk and started cursing me: "Now you are healthy, Yvonne, but in five years you may be not be healthy at all! Then, you will be very sorry for breaking the contract!"

Later, when he saw I was undaunted, he suggested another alternative: "How about continuing your insurance policy, while I will be paying your premium? Of course, in that case I will be the lawful beneficiary!" – which means, if something bad happened to me, the smart insurer would get the dough. I turned down the offer, of course...

Wednesday, 5th May 1993

Night Adventure: I live in a world which is governed by ruthless politicians. All people are imprisoned in stone cages, away from nature. Strange huge canons aim at us continually. I try to escape but they watch incessantly. A gigantic canon aims at me -I almost bump against it- as I fly high with a view to escaping. At a moment, when they aren't watching and the canon isn't aiming at me, I run fast, I climb up a wall and I am finally out of the city-prison. However, nature is still very far away.

Now I wander on the fringes of civilization, in and out of empty cells. I feel alone and insecure, but at least nobody watches or confines me anymore. Intending to leave once and for all, I go on smashing shut doors; however, I can't find a way out. I meet a woman, who looks like Aphrodite, and I suggest we go away together; yet, she doesn't want to: "I don't give a fuck about them," she explains. "Where is nature?" I ask her then, and she points at a strip of green which can be seen in the distance.

A woman politician, who is dressed in a dark-coloured suit, has short blond hair and reminds me of Persephone, tries to prevent me from flying to liberty -but she can't stop me. I fly high towards the countryside, enjoying the fresh breeze on my face and arms. I am transported with an unprecedented joy as I fly freely over green fields and deep gorges. What happens if I fall? I wonder, as I suddenly discern large bulks of iron lying on the ground. For a few moments I lose height, but I finally manage to beat my fears and go on. I wake up full of joy and excitement.

Interpretation: A clear allegory of our prison-world; I wish to escape, but hidden enemies watch and obstruct me with strange guns. I eventually find the opportunity to escape, but I feel lonely and insecure. I am alienated, but still I can't escape. Certain persons who seem to be friendly, may actually be indifferent or hostile. Finally, I manage to go away, I am free. Nevertheless, inner fears and doubts make me "lose height", as I can see they have polluted everything, even beyond the limits of their civilization. However, in the end I beat my fears and continue my spiritual ascension...

Sunday, 30th May 1993

Prophetic Dream: At the crossroads of Smyrnis street and Kyprou avenue, a bus crashes into a car. The right front wheel of the bus is detached and rolls down the street. Verification: In the afternoon, as I return home from work, the bus I am in crashes into a car at the crossroads of Smyrnis street and Kyprou avenue. The right front wheel of the car is detached and rolls down the street...۩

This evening I finished my first illustrated manuscript of the series "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", which contains eleven fantasy stories. While writing them, I have noticed some odd coincidences: First I write or illustrate a scene; then, after a few hours (or one day) a similar scene takes place in my reality or in a film on television. Such coincidences I call contacts. To be more specific:

Fifth story: Venor, Sandra's archenemy, hides inside a laundry cart and escapes from prison. In a film I watch at the same night, the imprisoned hero hides inside a laundry cart and escapes from prison.

Seventh story: I draw a picture of a dinosaur's skeleton rising over a cemetery. A few hours later, at night, uncle George dies unexpectedly.

Eighth story: I draw Sandra singing in a disco pub. Next day I am unexpectedly invited to go to a disco with my cousins -I hardly ever go to a disco.

Tenth story: I write about a gigantic monster which absorbes energy from spacecrafts. A few hours later, in a cartoon on TV, there is a strange machine which absorbes energy from a spacecraft.

Tenth story: In another cartoon on TV, the hero gets captured by his enemies. Suddenly, he turns round and fires at them with an anesthetic laser gun. They fall back, the hero runs away. Earlier in the morning, I had written an episode where Sandra Anderson escapes from her enemies exactly in the same way.

Eleventh story: On the 21st of May, I am at the funfair of Saints Constantine and Helen together with my friend Mandy. Suddenly, I notice a young blond man, who resembles Venor a lot and happens to be standing next to me. Right at that moment, Mandy talks about a whip and moves her hands accordingly; she is dressed exactly like Sandra in a similar scene, where Venor is holding a whip. I had drawn that scene the day before, on 20th May.

Friday, 18th June 1993

The carpenter's workshop that my brother-in-law opened a few months ago has been going from bad to worse, since Antony prefers fishing to working. More often than not, the bloke receives money in advance for the construction of furniture the client hardly ever sees. As a result, clients and creditors are getting angry because Antony owes them either money or furniture. As about my sister, she is obliged to work so as to support her family: For some months now she has been working as a chamber maid in the hotel "Blue Rose" in Vouliagmeni.

This morning things came to a pretty pass: While I was at work, one of Antony's creditors became too aggressive and threatened to sue him; in order to make sure her son-in-law will not end up in prison, my mother ran to the bank with my deposit book (she is co-beneficiary) without telling me anything, she withdrew 400,000 drachmas and gave it to Antony! When my parents informed me about it, I got very angry and asked them to give me my deposit book in hand. From now on I will be keeping it in a safe place, together with my monthly salary. Up to this day I have trusted my money and my deposit book to my parents -very stupid of me...

Friday, 2nd July 1993

Mrs Lemony's husband, called Harry, has had a bad accident recently: He got his left leg badly injured by a press in the factory where he works as a factory-hand. Doctors say the leg needs to be cut off because it has started to rot. I think I may be able to do something about it:

Lucid Dream: I wander about in our neighbourhood, I know I am dreaming and I look for Harry. I find him outside my house, at the street. I extend both my hands towards him and I send positive energy to him, saying: "This will cure you and it will protect you from all evil". Verification: Two days later my mother will inform me that Mr Harry's leg is "miraculously" getting better and it won't need to be cut off.

Monday, 9th August 1993

Another neighbour of ours, the 25-year-old John Zarifis, has been taking drugs for years. It is said he is now very badly addicted, there is no hope for him, and he is expected to live no more than one year. Once again, I decide to take action:

Lucid Dream: I look for John in my dream and I find him in my yard. He is dressed in an orange suit. I extend my hands and cure him, in the same way as above. Verification: A few days later I will be informed that John has suddenly escaped danger and he is about to start detoxification. Soon he will get off the hook and find a profitable job in a big company, although he hasn't got any special qualifications. From now on, both Harry and John will be in the pink of health.

Sunday, 22nd August 1993

For about two years now I have entered a very interesting phase of my life, since I am having more and more psychic experiences; yet, I have also perceived certain paradox incidents which appear more and more frequently, surrounding me like a sonic war: At daybreak, when I do the most important meditation exercise of the day, there is incredible mobility in the block of flats next to my house: A number of cars come and go continuously in and out of their outdoor garage, which happens to be right next to my bedroom window! Even earlier, from 4:00 to 6:00 am (no exaggeration) they race engines incessantly and/or slam car doors uncountable times! Why, indeed? Only God -or Satan- knows! The fact is that more often than not I can hardly sleep, I feel exasperated and I can't meditate properly.

In addition, the family who lives on the second floor of this building throw parties twice a week and there is very loud music till 3:00 o' clock in the morning. Besides, they are always on the balcony, shouting, screaming, listening to music or television on full blast, every day, all day long! Moreover, the family who lives across the street have a nasty black dog which barks continuously for hours and hours, day or night! The weirdest thing, though, is that nobody else in the neighbourhood seems to be annoyed by all that pandemonium!

I was hopeless about the problems mentioned above, but this morning an unexpected solution came up: After years of moving houses, my sister has just decided to return here, at her own house, so that my mother can help her even more with raising her children. Yet, she suggests she and I should change houses: she prefers to live in my house, on the ground floor, because it is bigger and it has a veranda; therefore, I will move into her apartment, on the second floor, which is much quieter since it is not so close to the street and the outdoor garage.

I can hardly believe my good luck! Of course I have agreed to change houses with Alice! Finally, I will have a little peace and quiet! How could I ever be so lucky? Maybe my life is going to take a turn for the better, after all...

Wednesday, 10th November 1993

Night Adventure: I, together with some other persons, carry out researches into the dominance of Evil in the world. We have come to the conclusion that Evil will soon be too powerful to fight against, as it grows fast, like a living organism.

All of a sudden, three hostile women attack me; I fight back with karate kicks, but I can see I won't last long. I begin to hover in the air but they keep on chasing me, as they can fly too. Hovering higher and higher, I find out my enemies can't follow me over a certain height. I keep a safety distance, and I can see they admire me now. Besides, I am not afraid of them anymore because I know I can reach even higher.

After a while I decide to come down, as I know they can't harm me, and I land on a green field near the beach. One of my co-researchers is still examining some viruses of Evil in a wooden lab. "They would contaminate the whole world if they didn't have so many enemies," she says.

Sunday, 12th December 1993

I have just finished writing the second book of my illustrated manuscript "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", which contains four stories. The most important contacts I have observed are the following:

First Story: I write and illustrate a music concert given by Venor. Two days later, my mother decides we should pay a visit to my godmother in Piraeus. Her daughter, who is a professional pianist, plays some classical pieces on the piano for us -a private concert.

Third story: I write about Astrid, a dangerous woman who explores cyberspaces. The next day, a colleague at work tells me she has had such an experience in England. "It made me cry for two days!" she confides in me.

Third story: Sandra sings in a music concert. A few hours later, I watch a cartoon where there is a concert given by a woman singer.

Third story: Late at night I watch a film on TV; there is a man who asks a woman to help him get rid of another, wicked woman. The two of them make love, while the evil woman is secretly watching them. A few hours before, I had written and illustrated a very similar scene with my protagonists Venor, Sandra, Astrid.

Chapter 30: Crisis

Wednesday, 17th January 1994

The new year has found me in a state of disorientation. I thought I were about to make a new start in life, however nothing seems to be going well. At work I confront a never-ending war from persons of dubious value: First of all Nicoleta, a clerk, who is always insulting, mocking and slandering not only me but other colleagues as well. Then Athena, who has studied multimedia in London and is supposed to be a great expert in computers, yet she is completely off base. Moreover, she is always trying to sabotage me in various stupid ways: She steals my back up floppy discs and accuses me of losing them, yet I see them as soon as she opens her drawer; she refuses to show me some useful things on the computer; she gives me to type the wrong texts and then she says I am the one who doesn't work right; she drops hints I am illiterate and I don't know the computer program, and so on. Luckily, Mrs Julia, our chief editor, knows what's going on and she is on my side.

As about my social life, it is not at all satisfactory: I don't see the guys from Janus anymore and I seldom go out at night. I occasionally meet Mandy (aunt Hermione's extremely boring niece: the only thing she does is answer ''yes'' or ''no'' to my questions), Lena (an incredibly dull, married hen: I visit her once a week, and as soon as I get there she starts helping her sons with their homework; she won't stop until I leave) or Persephone (rather depressed, yet she is the only one with whom I have something to discuss).

For some months now, I have been attending another centre of spiritual development, the "School of Superior Knowledge". This centre is of foreign origin, it is widespread all over the world, and a branch happens to be in Glyfada – hardly a 15-minute walk from my house. However, I don't like their fascist theories at all, let alone they are obsessed with the so-called "karma of retaliatory justice", which excuses and praises even the most blatant injustices in this world.

As about the guru, it is a woman called Donna; she is a very aggressive person, full of irony and malice, and doesn't hesitate to insult anyone who dares express the slightest doubt about her teachings. "Certain people here make me feel like vomiting," she said this evening staring at me with a malignant look. I know she dislikes me because I often show disbelief to her preachings. I must admit, though, I am still not smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I even dare present my own ideas in class. I face disapproval and hostility almost every time.

In my opinion, some of Donna's teachings are unacceptable: For instance, she believes that people are divided in two basic categories, "the ascending" and "the descending". The rich, the powerful, the lucky, are ascending; the poor, the weak, they unlucky, are descending. Insupportable pain and mortal danger can make a person spontaneously aware. Nazi concentration camps were something very good, because such horrible living conditions made the inmates live every moment in full awareness! "Many ex inmates of those camps often feel homesick of the years they spent in there!" claims Donna complacently and everybody listens.

According to the basic dogma of this school, man's most important goal in life is the breaking of the Ego (how original!). In every single lesson Donna trumpets forth the urgent need for wiping out all the separate "egos" which compose a personality: Any personal like, dislike, opinion, thought, feeling, will, is an expression of the Ego and for this reason they must all be eliminated, so as to achieve the so-called "awareness". She also teaches all human beings are One, and for this reason they should all think, feel and act identically. Any expression of a personal opinion is considered to be an aberration. "You head for the darkness! I head for the light!" said Donna full of arrogance, when a disciple dared disagree with her about that. So much of breaking the guru's Ego...

The purpose of all these new age cults mushrooming all over the world nowadays, is the creation of human puppets. The majority of these cults are international and widespread in most civilized countries. In Greece there are hundreds of such schools which prepare the people for the New Age, let alone the systematic propaganda in the mass media: Innumerable articles on magazines and newspapers, as well as plenty of TV programs regarding modern cults, oriental religions, alternative medicine, yoga, magic, astrology, tarot fortune-telling etc.

Modern cults appear to be different in many ways, but actually they are all the same: they all trumpet forth the "breaking of the Ego" with a view to creating obedient, passive citizens who are always ready to carry out any order without thinking or asking questions...

Sunday, 30th January 1994

Lucid Dream: I fly freely over green fields, then I enter a narrow path between two lines of leafy trees. As a hover in the air, I feel the fresh leaves in my hands, I enjoy a unique sense of jauntiness. Yet, the scene gradually fades away; I wonder why and I consciously try to reshape it -in vain. The only thing I finally manage to form is a strange, white, relief picture which unfolds before my eyes: The narrow path winds its way among white tree trunks which sprout out of the white ground towards the white sky. I try harder, but I finally ''fall'' into a dream, where I swim in the sea together with other people...

Saturday, 12th February 1994

Astral Projection: I change a lucid dream into a meditation exercise. I wake up instantly but I fall asleep again, thinking I would like to be on the bridge of Rialto in Venice. I find myself walking along the bridge, observing the small shop-windows with the fine clothes, handbags and accessories. I can also see the blue water of the canal flowing under the bridge.

Verification: Early in the morning, while having breakfast, my mother says suddenly: "Do you remember when we were in Venice, walking along the bridge of Rialto, observing the shop-windows with the handbags?"

"We were not together in Venice," I remind her.

"Yes, you are right" she agrees.

Mum visited Venice in the summer of 1980, together with Alice and met my father on his ship. I didn't join them because I was having the Pan-Hellenic Examinations then...

Sunday, 27th February 1994

Lucid Dream: I am in an open wagon speeding into a dark crater. Before it goes any lower, I consciously get out of the wagon and fly towards the huge, dim sun. The atmosphere is steamy, whitish, full of strange beams. I fly over a white stairway, until I arrive at a vast playground. There are lots of people there but they all look like ghosts...۩

This afternoon my sister and Antony finally decided to take a divorce by mutual consent, after ten years of misery and irresolution. The basic reason for the divorce is hunger: If Anthony provided his family with a minimum sum of money, Alice would never leave him. The carpenter's workshop he opened last year had enough clients, yet he hardly earned anything because he used to grab the money paid in advance and disappear, without even setting foot in the workshop. Creditors were furious, they even went so far as to knock on their door and the couple pretended to be absent! So, Alice finally got sick and tired of this all and decided to ask for a divorce. In the meantime, she still works as a chamber maid in the Hotel "Blue Rose" in Vouliagmeni, while my parents have undertaken the bringing up and support of her two sons – which means at least half of my father's pension is spent on the needs of Alice and her children. Nevertheless, all friends and relatives regard my sister as "a "heroine, who works and raises two boys all alone"...

Thursday, 17th March 1994

Astral Projection: I induce my astral body to get out, in the darkness of my bedroom. Then I fly out of the window and along Nereid st; black dogs get in my way as I fly towards the playground, yet I manage to leave them behind. I go to the painted red swings, then to the slide with the wooden pyramid on top. Around its base there are nice lilies and nearby there is an apricot tree. I go there, I cut a leaf off and hold it in my hand. It suddenly occurs to me I could bring it with me in the material world. I force awakening at once, while I hold the leaf tight. I wake up, feeling the leaf melting in my hand, as if it were made of some liquid substance...

Interpretation: Dark enemies, in the form of dogs, try to prevent me from exploring the astral plane. Obviously, it is impossible to bring an object from the astral plane to the material world. Nevertheless, when I return from work this afternoon, I will unintentionally bring home an apricot-tree leaf, which will be stuck under my shoe.

Tuesday, 3 May 1994

Psychic Experience: I can feel my legs in bed, but at the same time I feel myself walking; then I hover in the air, but soon I fall into a black tunnel crossed by a thick luminous beam. Numerous thinner beams intersect it, forming a kind of mesh. The dark tunnel ends in a square bottom, where there is light, a bright white light. As I sink towards the light, it seems to be growing bigger and bigger, until I can almost touch it: liquid, runny, white light. It feels wonderful...

Tuesday, 10th May 1994

Night Adventure: Aliens have invaded the earth. Alice and I hide behind a thick green hedgerow and we watch them. A handsome, muscular, blond warrior fights against the aliens with his weapon. They capture him but he finally escapes, although the enemies carry heavy firearms. Inside a vehicle there is a woman who has been tainted by an alien micro-organism: it "melts" the human figure within a blue aura, and the woman is transformed into a kind of plant. She regains her external appearance but is one of them now...

Psychic Experience: I wake up at about 1:00 after midnight. To my great astonishment, I can discern something hovering half a metre above me: it is a black, hideous shadow which looks like a living creature. I observe it for a few moments and it scares me stiff. "Jesus Christ!" I shout in the darkness. Then I reach for the standard lamp and turn on the light. There is nothing up there. Interpretation: Maybe one of the "shadows" which dominate humanity -according to many modern cults? Anyway, that was no dream. I was not asleep when I saw it...

Sunday, 15th May 1994

Night Adventure: Aliens which look like human beings are enclosed in metal capsules and are cast out from an extraterrestrial spacecraft. They all fall on an inhabited planet, probably earth. One of them hides in the basement of a cottage. Finally, he gets out and meets the family, which consists of five people: mother, father, two sons and a beautiful blond daughter.

The extraterrestrial spacecraft is dangerous to the planet, but only the stranger knows that. A little later, weird natural phenomena start taking place: Odd-shaped clouds cross the sky in incredible velocity; strong winds blow furiously, uprooting trees and carrying away telephone booths and other heavy stuff. Something crashes against the window pane, breaking the glass before me and I (the stranger?) have to remove the fragments from my back. The violent natural phenomena are repeated several times.

Eventually, the stranger reveals his true identity. This doesn't prevent him from going steady with the daughter of the family, but their happiness won't last: While she is in the garden, she bumps her head against a tree branch; she falls down on the ground and some mutated plants swallow her up; when they vomit her she is no longer what she was: she looks like a gigantic snail-like monster, a living horror. Her alien boyfriend swallows her up with a view to reshaping her; a little later, when he vomits her, she becomes an ethereal fairy. Yet, the only thing she wants now, is to harm him. The wind blows again and the landscape changes completely. Then I wake up, feeling confused and bewildered...

Monday, 6th June 1994

Night Adventure: I go down a white spiral stairway; suddenly I fall deeper and deeper into a whirl of crystals, until I find myself in a kind of asram. At first, it all looks nice and peaceful, everybody is kind to me, but I soon realize that the members of the cult gradually turn into monsters. At a moment I hear them say they intend to spread the taint to all humans on earth. I don't know what to do, I am in agony, and I want to get out of there as soon as possible. Then, I wake up and I am sorry I can't remember any more details...۩

Now that I live on the second floor, I certainly enjoy more peace and quiet: at least, I don't hear the noises of the street so much. Of course, there is still some sonic war I cannot avoid: The residents of the second floor in the next block of flats still have parties two or three times a week. Some new tenants, who live across the street, listen to music on full blast all day long till 1:00 after midnight, every night. Don't these people ever go to work?

Yesterday, at 2:00 am, I woke up with extra loud folk music in my ears! The duds across the street were having fun once again, right at that time, so I decided to call the police at once. When I explained to the telephone operator what I wanted, she just hang up to me! Nevertheless, whenever old-Zarifis calls them for the same reason, the police arrive here in no time so as to restore peace and quiet! When my sister threw a party some months ago, the old man called the police as soon as the clock struck midnight and they arrived five minutes later. Oh, I forgot: Mr Zarifis belongs to a political club...

Saturday, 30th July 1994

Psychic Experience: It begins as a lucid dream, but I change it into a meditation exercise using the mantra "Energy" (inhale) - "Ecstasy" (exhale). Almost immediately I hear a strong hum in my ears and I see before me an endless cosmic vortex composed of umpteen white spirals. I feel cold, I am inside the cosmic vortex, I am the cosmic vortex... Fear... Suspense... Hypertension... but I don't intend to stop, I wish to go on. However, mum wakes me up right at that time, disrupting my unusual experience. It is only 8:00 o' clock in the morning and she only wants to ask me if I went to the supermarket yesterday afternoon...۩

I have just finished the third book of the series "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", which is composed of four stories. The most important contacts I observed are the following:

First story: I write about a ship which sails among lightning. Just an hour later, in a film on TV there is a similar scene (a ship sailing among lighting in a thunderstorm) which lasts many minutes.

Second story: I write about an ocean and its sea life. On the same day, my friend Mandy buys an aquarium.

Second story: I write about an elephant cemetery guarded by a monster. In the same evening, in a movie on TV there is a similar scene: A tribe of Indians lives near an elephant cemetery guarded by a monster.

Third story: Venor is wounded by an arrow on his chest. At night, in a film on TV, the hero resembles Venor a lot and he is wounded by knives on his chest. Moreover, uncle Alex gets a heart attack the next day.

Third story: I write and illustrate a scene where Sandra passes through a window and gets into a room, so as to escape from enemies who chase her; below the sill there is a sofa decorated with colourful cushions. On the same day, in a film on TV, the hero escapes from his enemies exactly in the same way. The sofa with the colourful cushions is identical to mine.

Fourth story: Sandra gets a nasty blow on her heart. At the same night my sister feels a strong pain in her heart and goes to hospital; the doctors find nothing wrong with her.

Saturday, 6th August 1994

I was sunbathing at the beach of Glyfada, when a beefy guy with tiny swimming trunks accosted me and started flirting me with trite phrases such as: "Have I seen you before? On an island maybe? Was it in Corfu? Or in Rhodes?" and so on. I noticed the white foam around his lips (a sign of serious mental disease), yet I let him talk on – lest I should lose the opportunity of meeting Mr Right, or maybe because I wanted to prove to myself I am "sociable", "extrovert", "open to new experiences" and the like.

I was rather confused and he was quite eloquent, so we soon started chatting like old friends. His name is George and he works as a literature master, he said. When he offered to give me a ride to St Tryfon in his car, I just couldn't refuse. So, I suddenly found myself in a small, green flivver, which could hardly speed at 40 klm per hour, together with a stranger...

Monday, 8th August 1994

This afternoon I walked all the way to St. Constantine Square in Glyfada, where I had a date with George at 7:00. Reaching the venue, I noticed his green ramshackle car passing by; in all likelihood, he didn't see me. Anyway, I waited for him outside the church; more than half an hour had elapsed when he finally turned up. I didn't show any displeasure and we walked to a nearby cafeteria.

George managed to win my confidence very soon, as he appeared to be a thoughtful and understanding person. He listened carefully to what I said, he agreed in everything and declared he had just found his soul mate. I was seduced into revealing many things about myself and he made so bold as to suggest our going to his house "for a drink, as friends". I refused, of course.

At a moment I mentioned I had seen his car going round the square at about 7:00. "Eeeh, I was driving to the seaside, because I wanted to change clothes. I had gone swimming first!" he excused himself.

Nonsense; he was well-dressed and his hair was nicely combed; he had not gone swimming. In all probability, he was late on purpose, so as to strain my impatience. But no, probably I am all wrong he can't be so silly, I thought. "It is not right for a woman to be stood up and accosted by every bum! No, this will not happen again!" he said pompously and I believed him.

A little later, as we were chatting on, I complained about the awful noise made by cars at the outdoor garage below my window every night; he expressed his understanding and then he asked smiling: "Outdoor garage? What's does ''outdoor'' mean?". I wondered at his not knowing this word, but I explained it to him.

After that, he confided in me he intended to buy a house in Glyfada (meaning he is wealthy) and then he asked: "When I read the classified ads, looking for a house to buy, I often see an advertisement saying ''Naxiotis real estate''. What does ''naxiotis'' mean?". I explained to him it is the name of the real estate agent and he smiled satisfied. He is either pulling my leg or a penniless Albanian; he is certainly not a literature master, I thought but I suppressed that suspicion at once.

After a while he pushed his chair closer to mine and complained "there are too many tables and people in here". He was not wrong about that. We agreed to leave and drive to the seaside.

A few minutes later we reached the beach "Diamond" but we didn't get out of the car at all; we stayed in, facing the magical rosy-red sunset before us. Yet, I could hardly enjoy it, as the bloke started bombarding me with lots of silly questions such as: "Are you sensitive?" ... "Are you emotional?" ... "Is love the most important thing to you?" and so on. I tried to give him satisfactory answers, yet I felt very uncomfortable. Soon he went on with an meticulous interrogation regarding my previous love life, while I was feeling as if I were being interviewed by a potential employer. Hoping to make him stop this, I made up a melodramatic love story about a boyfriend of mine who was killed in a car accident nine years ago; strangely enough, I felt quite emotional about it and when I said "I have lost someone" I meant it. Anyway, I don't know if the would-be groom believed me; however, we agreed to meet again two days later and go for a swim at "a nice, isolated beach in Kavouri", as George suggested.

Wednesday, 10th August 1994

Ignoring persistently a strong heartbeat and an inner voice crying "Don't go!", I arrived at St. Constantine Square on time, expecting to meet George at 6:30 pm. By the way, how would we ever reach Kavouri in that ramshackle car? And what time would we leave the "nice, isolated beach? I kept wondering, rather anxious.

Anyway, the bloke didn't turn up until 7:15 so, in immense relief, I left the square and went for a swim at the nearby beach "Diamond". At last, now I had a wonderful excuse so as to get rid of him!

George phoned me a lot later, at night, he complained about not finding me there and said he had arrived at 7:30. When I protested about his delays, he flew into a rage and started to shout:

"Listen, Yvonne, from now on, when we have a date you will wait for me for as long as it takes! It might be one hour, two hours, I don't know, but I am a busy person and I can't be punctual! Let alone sometimes the car breaks down! (really?) In this case, I am usually held up for three or four hours! Got it?"

"Yes, alright, got it," I replied hastily and he hang up on me.

After some confusion and thoughts of guilt such as Could he be right? Did I leave the venue too soon? A relationship demands sacrifices, and all this trash, I came to my senses and I disconnected the phone at once; I left it like that for a few days, so as to make sure the dud wouldn't be able to contact me again.

Undoubtedly, the bloke was a pervert, maybe a dangerous one. Luckily, it didn't take me long to figure it out. On the other hand, someone else in my place wouldn't let the stallion go away. She would go on dating him, she would endure all his whims and vices, and eventually she would break up with him after two or three miserable years, when things would have come to a pretty pass.

That's why I can't ever have a love affair: a) I am not adaptable enough, b) I don't feel "half" when I am single; I feel "half" when I am with somebody. On the contrary, when I am alone I feel complete! c) I am also too perceptive: I can see a man's faults within ten minutes – the same faults another woman will see in two years...

* * * *

Sunday, 25th September 1994

Gregory's wedding: The first friend of my childhood is getting married this evening. He won't be living in our neighbourhood anymore. From now on I will be seeing him rarely and he won't be the Gregory I used to know.

I reminisce scenes from the carefree childhood years we lived together, back at the 70s: Some games of hopscotch, soldiers, monopoly, hide and seek, the apples; the warm family gatherings later, at the 80s, during the years of adolescence. Tonight a nice part of my life is going away together with Gregory. I lose an innocent past, I experience an agonizing present, I await a threatening future...

Nothing lives for ever: What belongs to the past is as if it had never existed at all. There are only memories left, but they fade away moment by moment like a distant dream, until everything is lost in oblivion. Sooner or later all is gone: Good or bad, success or failure, bliss or pain.

Everything fades with time. Whole generations eventually die out, omnipotent dynasties are finally wiped out -it is just a matter of time. Entire civilizations have disappeared from the face of the earth, civilizations that once thrived on vast continents for many thousands of years. Sooner or later the earth swallows up everything, all the big and wondrous works of the past. Life itself will be extinct from the earth when the sun starts to cool. Whole worlds, maybe more advanced than ours, may have vanished because of unpredictable or inevitable cosmic phenomena. The only thing that remains is dust in space -maybe not even that...

Saturday, 8th October 1994

Night Adventure: As I go out of my house, in the distance I can see a beautiful landscape with green hills, picturesque cottages, azure lakes and black statues. I fly all the way there, feeling wonderful. Yet, all of a sudden my optical field gets narrower and narrower, until it is as if I were looking through a long metal pipe. Then, darkness.

I decide to fly through the dark pipe and I find myself in a land of exquisite beauty: Vast green gardens with wooden kiosks, luxurious glass houses, marble staircases and magnificent works of sculpture. On my left I can see an impressive kiosk made of white marble with a flower pattern. After a while I fly over the green hills again and return home. I can see the smog of Athens in the distance now...۩

Once again determined to escape from the unnatural stagnation of my life, since the beginning of September I have been attending a local gym, together with my friend Mandy. Sometimes Alice comes with us too. We go there three times a week and we do bodybuilding and aerobics.

We have met a nice guy there, whose name is Dimitri Papayannis; he came and talked to me after he had recognized me as an old schoolmate from junior high school. We get along very well, we have pleasant chats, I like him. I show him my interest whenever I can, I have even given him my telephone number. However, he is clearly infatuated with Mandy, he has even confessed his love for her to me, although she has a relationship with another man and she doesn't like Dimitri. Yet he insists on flirting her, using me as a point of contact with Mandy.

I keep on playing the role of the match-maker, hoping that Dimitri will eventually be disappointed from Mandy's frigidity and notice me. At weekends I even arrange friendly meetings and outings, where we are all present: Dimitri, Mandy and I; sometimes my sister comes along too.

I also like another guy: It is Themis, the aerobics instructor. He is thirty years old, chestnut-haired with almond-shaped eyes, not very tall but handsome and sensual. I flirt him openly during the aerobics session, just like all women in class do; especially the married ones surround him ostentatiously during the lesson, preventing any single woman from approach him! Themis smiles and dallies with all women, giving them hope for something more. Needless to say, his class is always filled to capacity...

Sunday, 6th October 1994

Astral Projection: Persephone and I are getting ready to go to bed inside an old house. A sweet melody comes from a music box, mesmerizing me; I feel strange, as if I were falling into a dark grave. Outside the half-open window there is a bright light. The melody works in seven stages; when I reach the seventh stage I fall into hypnosis. Yet, I return to the dream fast and try to close the window with the power of my mind. I finally manage to do so, but next moment the shutters are open again. I try again, but now I can't close the window well. Persephone is there watching me, while a woman is trying to get in through the window. I go and close the shutters with my hands, but in the meantime the woman has broken into the room. She looks old and ugly. I am afraid of her and push her out. Then, I wake up with a start. The time is 4:30 am.

Verification: As Persephone herself told me this afternoon, during the night strong wind kept opening the shutters of her room. The first time she woke up, she didn't dare stand up so as to close them; she was frightened because she thought someone were trying to break into her room. The second time she woke up, she stood up and closed the shutters; the time was 4:30 am...

Tuesday, 25th October 1994

Night Adventure: I am on vacation in a village and I stay in a stone house; the veranda is spacious, made of the same kind of stone. On my right I can see a stairway which leads to the terrace. Then I am in the big green garden and I chat with a young, handsome man, the wind flapping his shoulder-long hair. I kiss him gently but suddenly I lose contact with him, while he seems to be aging fast...

Psychic experience: I change a lucid dream into a meditation exercise. As soon as I reach the ''void space'', I perceive a black star which beams white light to infinity. I am so scared that I wake up instantly. There follows a second meditation exercise in bed: I feel as if falling in a white whirling vortex; it is not empty, there is something inside; I fall deeper and deeper, I feel myself fading away, my heart stopping. I wake up with a start...

Saturday, 17th December 1994

Psychic Experience: I dream of being in another city, maybe Ioannina, together with my parents. I want to leave this place we can't find a bus at 2:00 in the afternoon. I feel tired and annoyed.

Verification: At the same night Helen Roussos, a colleague in Pangaea, dreamed of being in Ioannina together with her father. She wanted to leave the place but she couldn't. "You two are insane! You see the same dreams!" Nicoleta commented maliciously, as soon as she heard about the dream Helen and I shared tonight...۩

This morning I finished the fourth book of my illustrated manuscript "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", which contains only three stories. The most important contacts are the following:

First story: I write and illustrate a scene where Sandra, full of concerns, faces a rosy-red sunset at sea. Two days later, George and I face a rosy-red sunset at sea and I am not at all carefree.

First story: I write and illustrate a scene where Sandra embraces her lover from behind. The day after, while walking in Athens, I see a woman embracing her lover (who resembles Sandra's lover) from behind, exactly in the same way.

First story: The "Ship of Destiny", where Sandra used to work, is blown up while it is empty. Some hours later, a bomb explodes at my boss' (Mr Gryparis) house, while it is empty.

Second story: A crazy monster falls on a table and then it crushes a man. Next morning a bus crushes into a bus stop near Pangaea and kills six people who happen to be waiting there.

Third story: Sandra's spacecraft is rammed by an airborne object ''via radio transmission". In the same evening I watch a film on TV, where an aeroplane is rammed by an airborne object ''via radio transmission'' -just like in Sandra's case...

Chapter 31: A World of Seductions

Sunday, 12th February 1995

It's about three months since I first noticed a radical change in Persephone's behaviour: She is always shouting and laughing at top voice, she is trying to be clever and expert in all subjects, she is constantly asking for favours: "Type these poems for me" ... "Tell your mother to sew this skirt of mine" ... "Will you paint this picture for me?" ... "Go to that public service and ask this or that" and so on. Since the beginning of the year she had been talking me into buying her a certain blouse, which costs 12,000 drachmas, as a present for her birthday -which was yesterday. Finally, when she realized I had no intention of spending so much money for her, she asked me to buy her a book of poems -and I did that.

I think she has lost her mind, yet she also seems to have become paradoxically popular lately: Until last Christmas she had no friends but me; now, however, she has friendly relations with lots of young people. Persa keeps mentioning names of old schoolmates whom, as she says, she meets on the road by chance and they become best friends at once. Moreover, she has started to believe that she is gorgeous and desirable and that men admire her beauty despite her 140 kilos. She is also sure she can charm any male with the poems she has been writing recently.

The greatest mystery of all, Persephone's 21st birthday party yesterday: First of all, she didn't want me to come at the same time as her other friends. She suggested I should come the next day "so that we can be alone". I avoided giving her a definitive answer, so she asked me to phone her before deciding. Finally, seeing I hadn't phoned her till yesterday afternoon, she called me at about 4:00 pm and asked me whether I intended to come or not; then she commented jokingly: "Those who don't bring an expensive present, won't come in!"

As soon as I arrived at Persa's yesterday evening, I was astonished to see there were about thirty guests there. All of them seemed to be ordinary persons, while there were also some "divas" – who normally wouldn't deign to have a look at an obese woman like Persa. Her mother, Mrs Daphne, greeted me frigidly, turning her face away. In the process, Persephone showed me in and tricked me into sitting at a specific place: She took two chairs, making me believe she intended to sit near me, and we approached a group of three girls. As soon as I made myself comfortable, Persa stood up and walked away. To my surprise, the girls -all three a lot younger than me- started chatting with me quickly and eagerly. I am not used to such politeness...

At a moment I noticed my friend was dallying with a handsome blond man who, instead of mocking or spitting on her (as it usually happens when an ugly woman dares look at a good-looking man), he was extremely tactful to her.

"I know how to seduce you! With a carnation!" joked Persa, rather foolishly.

"Not with the initiation, with a carnation!" another guy joked and I wondered: Initiation? What kind of initiation?

During the whole celebration, Persa hardly talked to me ‒ in fact she avoided even to come near me. Many times I noticed impatient looks all around me; everybody hoped I would hit the road soon, but I persevered heroically till the end, when there were only four guests left.

At a moment I heard Mrs Daphne ask her daughter: "Is Yvonne still here?". Have I spoilt the party or what? Finally, when the time came for me to leave, I was the only one Persephone didn't see out.

So, what was that? Was it just a birthday party or a network assembly? I suspect that, turning 21, my good friend officially joined some network of great calibre -as her father's daughter: he is an illiterate, neurotic, rude boor, yet he knows lots of wealthy, educated and powerful people. In all probability, Persa was informed about the network a few months ago – which explains the radical change in her behaviour ever since.

And then I wonder why I don't have any friends! I don't belong to any network; I am not a member of any political club; I am not a disciple of any cult – even if I have often tried to be one! How could I ever have friends? And they always make me think I am an unsociable, stupid, boring misfit. This is what they all have been doing to me during my whole life. How satanic they all are -venal, dirty, evil, this is what they all are...

Thursday, 30th March 1995

Having finished work this afternoon, I was walking along Academy Avenue to the bus terminus, when I suddenly saw Persephone and her mother just a few metres away, waving at me happily! They looked thrilled to see me, they ran towards me at once and I could do nothing to avoid them. Pretty soon I had to endure complaints about my disappearance, ending up to "All those years I've been nothing but the little one you deigned to keep company with, just because nobody else wanted to be your friend!" – at this point Persa almost burst into tears. Then I had to explain to her that what had put me off her during the last five months was a negative change in her overall behaviour.

"You were arrogant, obtrusive and impetuous, probably because something has changed in your life," I went on.

"My life is shit, as always, Yvonne!" she retorted at once.

Indeed, the Persephone standing before me now was the reserved and quiet girl I once knew -and I told her so.

"You prefer me like this?" she said bitterly.

"What about all those persons I saw in your birthday party?" I asked then.

"I just wanted my house to be full of people that evening!" she answered.

Is it really so easy to find thirty persons eager to come to your house in a particular evening? I wondered. Anyway, feeling happy that the old, modest and reasonable Persephone had returned, I accepted to meet her in a cafeteria in Glyfada on Sunday, so as to sort things out.

Sunday, 2nd April 1995

At about 8:00 o' clock in the evening Persa and I met in the cafeteria "Venezia" in Glyfada. She looked friendly, pliant and understanding; once again she assured me nothing special had happened to her lately; as about those persons in her birthday party, she said she had never seen them before and she would never see any of them in the future. She also apologized for what she had told me three days before in Athens, that I deigned to keep company with her just because nobody else wanted to be my friend. She sounded calm, reasonable and sincere, and we renewed our friendship spontaneously.

Nevertheless, at a moment Persephone made another complaint to me: "You never say anything to me, Yvonne; you never talk about yourself, whereas I have told you everything about me. From now on, I would like you to tell me more about yourself!". I promised to do so, yet I wonder: I had the impression of being already quite trustful to Persa; in fact, if there is someone to whom I confide almost everything, this is Persa. I have even spoken to her about my lucid dreams and psychic experiences: ''Do you have any idea what you are telling me now?'' she had exclaimed in astonishment. So? What else does she expect to hear from me?

Saturday, 8th April 1995

This morning I wake up in a cheerful mood; after breakfast, I go downstairs to see my sister -and who shall I find there? Apart from Alice's close friends, Milena and Despina, Dimitri Papayannis is also present! I am dumbfounded, since I could never imagine Dimitri has any dealings with Alice. However, I join the party and I soon find out the following: Dimitri has been dallying with Alice, but she wants him to get off with short and ugly Despina! I can hardly believe my own eyes, I drop from the clouds! Until yesterday I kept on flirting Dimitri, my sister knew about that but I had no idea what was going on behind my back! As far as I can see, the bloke is willing to go steady with any woman but me! As about my sweet sister, she has entirely ignored my feelings and decided to act as a match-maker between Dimitri and her insignificant friend, as if I didn't even exist!

I get very angry, I run upstairs and confide all my complaints to mum. She goes downstairs immediately and talks to Alice ‒ which means everybody gets wind of the situation. Right after, Alice comes upstairs and wants a word with me.

"What's the matter?" she asks provocatively.

"What's the matter? You ask what's the matter?" I start shouting. "I'll tell you what's the matter: You never care about me, you never give a dime about how I feel! You always invite people at your home, people I know too, but you never invite me, although you know I spend hours and hours alone! And now, while you know I like Dimitri, you act as a match-maker between him and your friend!"

"So, you have finally understood what our relationship is like and it drives you crazy!" she replies enigmatically.

In the afternoon, here comes Alice and takes me for a coffee to Milena's cafeteria at Karaiskaki Square. Feeling rather guilty about our quarrel, I accept the invitation smiling foolishly, while Alice makes a wry face. As we are walking up the avenue to the square, she doesn't lose an opportunity to express her contempt for me: "You will go mad soon, because you can't find a man! By the time you are 35, you will be completely mad!" she tells me with a cunning smile on her face.

There is a big party of friends waiting for us in the cafeteria; I can't say they are cool to me ‒ at least they are not cooler than usual. Yet, there is something: A young woman has brought her seven-month-old baby, a nice and smiling boy, and everybody takes him in their lap. However, any time I try to hold him, his concerned mother hastens to take him off my hands at once!

It takes me a few moments to remember: My sister Chryssa reacted exactly in the same way when she visited us the other day, together with her husband and her baby boy! What's the matter with all hens and they don't want me to touch their brood? Are they afraid of me or what?

The essence of existence: In this world, all beings are enemies. One way or another, they all try to extinguish each other. This is what all living creatures live for. "Friends" are temporary allies against a common enemy or adversities. As soon as the common enemy or adversities cease to exist, masks are thrown off. Friendship gradually becomes contempt, abhorrence, hatred.

You never know what is hidden behind a sweet smile. You never know what they really want from you. You don't know where they belong to, you don't know whom they answer to. Everybody looks nice, until you disobey. Then, smiles become screams of attack. Don't ever confide in anyone. As a rule, you always regret it. Don't you?

Saturday, 15 April 1995

New hopes: Themis, the aerobics instructor, has invited the whole class to a restaurant tomorrow night! Needless to say, I will join the party and I already wonder what I could do to catch his attention.

Finally, I decide to perform a simple magic ritual I have found in a book: I light two green candles and meditate on Themis' love for ten minutes. Then I take a potato, I cut it in half and stick twelve pins on it – the number of pins must be the same as the number of letters in Themis' christian name: Themistocles. Then I squeeze the two halves together and tie them up with a red ribbon. Finally, I throw the potato in fire. Now, all I can do is wait...

Sunday, 16th April 1995

The critical night has come! I meet Mandy at 8:30 pm, we get in her car and we leave for the restaurant "Rooster" in Verkiza. I am in my best togs and I feel happy and very optimistic. As soon as we arrive there, I see the party consists of more than twenty people. I am excited at the thought of the great time we are going to have tonight. Maybe this is my night, I think.

The result? Naught! All men seem to be enchanted by Mandy, especially Themis! As about me, at a moment someone speaks up and says he remembers me from elementary school ‒ so, my age is revealed before everybody! Later on, Themis suggests our going on an excursion on May Day and all the married hens (who, as usual, have formed a ring around him) hasten to enter themselves for it.

Conclusion: From now on Themis is not just uninterested in me; he ignores me completely! A week later I will repeat the magic ritual -in vain; I could as well say the situation is getting worse and worse: Now Themis is courting all women in our class except me, especially when I am present! He is flirting everyone but me! He even arranges outings or day trips with them in such an ostentatious manner that I -as well as the whole gym- can hear everything; needless to say, I am never given the chance to be a member of that enviable party...

Strange May Day, 1995

Themis is on an excursion with his "harem". Naturally, I was not invited and I'm spending the day at home since I haven't had a phone call from anyone, not even for a coffee in Glyfada. Suddenly, at 5:00 pm, the telephone rings. It is Mrs Daphne, Persa's mother, and she asks me to come and keep company to her daughter urgently. Then, Persephone herself talks to me and says I must go and meet her at her place at once, because "there is a very serious reason".

Arriving at Persa's, she seems to be kinda strange and secretive. At first I fear she has relapsed, but no: She neither overreacts nor shows off, she just looks drowsy and sluggish. Her father is at his desk, looking at some bills; he stays taciturn but he is obviously vexed. Then, Mrs Daphne takes me aside and explains to me, in a low voice, that Persephone has just taken about ten sleeping pills so as to kill herself! I am astounded and worried; I thought Persa had overcome such problems long ago ‒ it is not the first time she has attempted something like this. Fortunately, the pills were not strong enough and she got away with some drowsiness.

We leave at once and we go to Glyfada for a coffee. "Be careful or I might fall down!" she jokes as we are walking along Metaxa Avenue.

"I was feeling desperate this afternoon; I was choking with negative thoughts, I felt so bad that I lost control and smashed the window pane with my hand! Right after, I took the pills!" she confides to me as soon as we sit at a seaside café.

"But why?" I ask to know, since till that moment she hasn't mentioned any reason for attempting suicide.

"There are some things about me you don't know," she replies enigmatically.

In the process I try -and manage- to console her and put her off any further thoughts of self-destruction. "Suicide is no solution," I tell her. "Anyway, we can't be sure whether death is really the end, and we don't know what awaits us after..."

Saturday, 19th May 1995

About two months ago, as I was returning from work by bus, I bumped into Louise, my old friend. We talked about the old times, we made it up, and we meet quite often ever since. She is married to Nondas now, she has an eighteen-month-old son whose name is Manolis, and she is pregnant to a girl.

I like Louise because she is a cheerful, talkative and extrovert person. She invites me to her place two or three times a week and every time she wants kisses and hugs -as if we hadn't met for ages. We spend hours and hours discussing various subjects and we have a very nice time together, we are ideologically compatible I'd say. Moreover, she considers me a member of the family, like a sister, she says – maybe because she has no other friends now; she no longer sees all those persons she once hanged out with, probably because of her family obligations: Louise is a wife and mother now, she has no time for outings and excursions.

... "Really, Yvonne, you are the most sincere and unselfish person I have ever met," she told me this evening, when I visited her. Then I made so bold as to propose my being godmother to her baby daughter, who will be born in a few moths. "Thanks, Yvonne, but I have already arranged that with Martha, one of my colleagues; I can't go back on my promise now," she replied fast. "As about the third child I intend to have in the future, I have already promised that to Nicolas, another colleague!" she went on hastily. Her flat refusal made me think for a while but I guess it's anybody's right to choose the godmothers of their children...

Friday, 2nd June 1995

My good friend Louise has often asked me to visit her at the law office she works in as a secretary, so as to introduce me to Peter, one of the lawyers. "He is a good and sensible person; you two could match together," she says smiling.

I decided to drop in on her early this morning, before going to work. At first I was flabbergasted when I saw how big the company she works for is: Three storeys full of offices and lots of people coming and going. Then, I was disappointed to find out that the would-be groom is a chubby, bald guy with fat cheeks and short legs – exactly the type I have told Louise I dislike. "But look how big muscles he has!" insisted my friend, who probably considers fat as ''muscles''.

It didn't take Louise long to understand I am not interested in that guy, so she started introducing me to some other lawyers, all of whom, paradoxically, were as fat and short as Peter. "This is my friend Yvonne, who is an artist and a writer," she kept saying in a rather ostentatious manner, and I had to shake hands and smile to each one of them. Then, very cheerfully and eagerly, she took me to various offices on all three storeys, where I had to shake hands with lots of surprised people I had never seen before and I -in all likelihood- I will never see again.

After a while we returned to Louise's office at last; a little later, a new person came in: it was a young lawyer who, unlike the others, was slender, good-looking and agreeable. I let know my friend I liked him but, strangely enough, she showed no willingness to introduce me to him. "He is six years younger than you!" she pointed out. However I insisted, so my friend considered it right to begin a rather provocative conversation with me:

"So, Yvonne, you are a talented author and you write novels! How many of them have you had published?" she asked me loudly, making sure everybody could hear.

"Only one, years ago," I replied in a low voice.

"Only one? Who paid for that, you or the publisher?"

"I paid for it, of course; publishers don't support unrecognized writers" I hastened to explain, while I was already feeling uncomfortable.

"And why haven't you published anything else?"

"It is not so simple; not only do you have to pay for publishing the book, but public relations are also essential; without backstairs influence no publisher pays any attention," I answered and regreted it immediately, as I knew I had said too much already.

"Correct, public relations are necessary too... yet, you are also an artist, aren't you?"

I answered in the affirmative and Louise went on undaunted:

"Have you ever participated in a painting exhibition?"

"No, I have never thought of anything like that; besides, neither this is so simple," I replied and the conversation went on in the same pattern for a few more minutes.

In the evening Louise phoned and informed me that the young man I liked had come into her office once again later, but all he did was laugh up his sleeve before her. "Nondas told me the guy was making fun of us because we were talking nonsense," she concluded. I said nothing but I do agree with Nondas...

Thursday, 8th June 1995

In spite of the above fiasco, I agreed to visit Louise in her office once again this morning, for the same purpose. She introduced me to three plump and gauky guys as an author and an artist, then we did the round of the offices once again, I had to shake hands and smiles with all those astonished people, once again we arrested everybody's attention.

I was feeling frustrated when I finally noticed that a tall, blond, blue-eyed lawyer was standing at the next desk and he was giving me the glad eye. I flirted him back for a few moments, then I let know Louise discreetly. "Oh, this is assistant of John Comnenos, one of the most important lawyers in Greece," she informed me and right after she hastened to take me down a peg or two: "He is also a moron, an idiot!" she added contemptuously. Next moment, the young man left the office.

I don't intend to pay another visit to Louise in her office again; I can see there is no reason, besides it occurs to me I have made a fool of myself for nothing. Naturally, I don't question Louise's good intentions; on the contrary, she is the only friend of mine who supports me in deed...

Wednesday, 21st June 1995

Yesterday afternoon I saw Dimitri in the gym. We hardly did any bodybuilding; he spent all my time confessing to me his passionate love for Mandy. As about Despina, he needs her only for sex, he said. In the end, he made clear he wanted me to invite him to my birthday party today, so that he could meet Mandy.

... And this is what I eventually did! Anyway, seldom do I have the opportunity to celebrate my birthday in the company of friends. Persephone, Mandy and Dimitri came and wished me to live to be a hundred. A little later, my sister turned up as well. We listened to pop and rock music, we chatted and laughed till late at night. Mandy hardly paid any attention to Dimitri, but in overall it was a pleasant and joyful evening for all of us.

Thursday, 29th June 1995

As soon as I arrived at the gym this afternoon, I noticed a white card on the reception desk saying "Massage from Themis. Tel 96....." in big, capital letters. I could hardly believe my eyes. What shall I do now? Call him and ask ''how much is it?'' I wondered bitterly. At that point I begin to quit on Themis...

Pretty soon, all the married women in our aerobics class will be his regular clients and one of them – a swarthy forty-year-old widow with two children will go steady with him. It seems she is the most talented of all in massage...

When I express my wonder about all the above to Louise, Nondas listens carefully and says: "Why are you so surprised, Yvonne? What do you expect from such persons -gymnasts, dancers, models and the like? There's no need to see or hear much about them!"

I guess he is right about that...

Thursday, 20th July 1995

It's been two months that Mandy and I have been discussing our going on an organized trip to Corfu. Having, finally, reassured squeamish Mandy that we won't be cut off on the island because of ships on strike or landing Italians, she visited me this afternoon, together with her mother, so as to give me the money for the reservation. Yet, I couldn't stay with them for long, because I had already arranged to go to Louise's at 7:00.

When I returned home late at night, I was astounded to hear eventually Mandy didn't leave the money for the trip because her mother convinced her, at the last moment, that if we two go on holidays without being escorted by a man, we will be raped! They are inviting me to a week of vacations in their cottage in Amarynthos instead. I don't like this, but I don't have another alternative: Tomorrow is the last day to make a reservation for the trip to Corfu, I am not in the mood of going alone and it's too late for me to find another companion. So, I say farewell to the trip to beautiful Corfu! Gosh, what a stupid being Mandy is!

Tuesday, 25th July 1995

On another attempt to develop my social life, about a month ago I answered to a classified ad for correspondence and friendship, placed by the 25-year-old Denia Chrysanthou. I had almost forgotten about it until yesterday afternoon, when she called me and we arranged to meet in the centre of Athens this evening.

At first I was kinda circumspect, yet I found out soon that Denia is a quiet and reasonable woman. She is square-faced with curly hair, short and skinny, and she makes an impression of being a very harassed person. She was born in Patras, she has an older sister and a younger brother, her parents were too poor to bring up three children, so the girls were raised by their grandmother. She has been in Athens for four years, she lives with an aunt of hers but she isn't pleased and she wants to change address. She hasn't been able to find a permanent job so far, so she has to change jobs all the time – in two words, she is always under steam.

Nevertheless, we had a nice time together, she asked to meet me again and I agreed with pleasure. I intend to call her as soon as I come back from my holidays in Amarynthos.

Wednesday, 26th July 1995

After my own initiative to call him, Dimitri Papayannis and I met in Glyfada this evening. We went to the seaside cafeteria "Cataralla"; the Mexican-style environment is fantastic, full of rocky formations, small waterfalls and gurgling rivers. Dimitri proved to be a very interesting interlocutor, we stayed almost three hours together and we discussed lots of diverse subjects. He even talked to me about his past love affairs and disappointments; he also gave me the impression he were getting over Mandy. I think we are well-matched and I am beginning to hope...

Tuesday, 1st August 1995

Since last Wednesday I have been in Mandy's cottage in Amarynthos, on the island of Euboea, together with her parents and grandparents. During the first two days my friend seemed to be so displeased with my presence that she even avoided talking to me – not that she has ever been communicative...

Anyway, it didn't take me long to find out she is a wet blanket only when she is with me: For example, whenever we two go to Kavouri for a swim, she barely utters a word, she stays in the water taciturn for five minutes, and then she comes out hastily, as if she were chased by sharks. On the contrary, when we are in the company of her two cousins, Mandy becomes incredibly talkative, cheerful, spirited! When we all four go swimming at the nearby beach, I can hardly believe my eyes as I see her splashing around, laughing and diving for an hour at least -as if she were another person!

As for the rest, the week in Amarynthos has proved to be really boring, since we've spent most of our time playing cards or chatting with the old crocks. We have been to a disco only twice because, according to Mandy, it is dangerous for her grandparents to be alone at night. Great vacations and they are almost over...

Saturday, 5th August 1995

Once again I took the initiative to phone Dimitri and we arranged to meet in a much frequented cafeteria in Argyroupolis. I didn't like the environment so much, it was crowded and noisy. I told him about the fiasco of Corfu and my boring holidays in Euboea. "You know what? Your friend is a bit screwy," he concluded smiling.

In overall we had a nice time, but soon he let it be understood that mental harmony is not enough to start a love affair. In the end, he even asked me if there was another friend of mine to introduce to him...

Wednesday, 4th October 1995

It is a pleasant autumn afternoon; I have just left the house, going to the super market, when I notice a young man sitting on a chair in our veranda, together with my sister. To my astonishment, I recognize Themis! The two of them are chatting full of joy and smiles! I wonder about it but I neither give it any more thought nor pause to say hello; I don't give a dime and I don't mind to show it.

Later on, when Themis is gone, I ask my sister what Themis was doing in our veranda. She says she had asked him to lend her one of his music cassettes, so that she could record some beautiful songs. This afternoon she invited him to her house so as to give him back the cassette. Couldn't she have done that in the gym?

I will never see Themis at Alice's house again and, in all probability, nothing more important has ever happened between the two of them. Besides, the songs are fine and I will record them too.

Nevertheless, I can't ignore the fact: I have liked two men in the gym, Dimitris and Themis; both of them have turned down my love, and both of them have spent some time in my sister's house. I get the impression that if I ever had a husband of a lover, I wouldn't have him for long; Alice, my sweet sister, would do anything to take him away from me...

Chapter 32: Regression

Tuesday, 10th October 1995

Despite the new openings I have ventured for about a year now (gym, new friends, man hunt) I still feel unsatisfied. I do get out more often than before, but there is no mental challenge in my new relationships, let alone the mittens I got from Dimitri and Themis; having often caught myself reminiscing the years of Janus, this afternoon I decided to make a phone call to Harry:

"I know I haven't been just to you, I should have explained the reason for my leaving three years ago, but now I would like to return to Janus..."

"Why do you begin with negativity?" he exclaimed at once happily.

Finally, we arranged to meet at his office in Janus as soon as possible, that is tomorrow; and I am starting lessons on Friday...

Friday, 13th October 1995

As soon as I got into my classroom in Janus for the first time tonight, a good-looking lady came and sat next to me; she introduced herself as Maria Glenos and she fell into conversation with me at once. She is 48 years old but she looks younger, she is married with a daughter, and she soon made it clear she is thrilled with Alexander and his teachings. I felt comfortable with her and I was surprised at her spontaneous friendliness towards me. I am not accustomed to being treated so well...

At first Alexander looked surprised to see me in his class after three years of absence – as if he hadn't known I would come tonight. After welcoming me, he began to complain about "a woman who left Janus three years ago, without even explaining the reasons for leaving; she left because she couldn't find a boyfriend, but neither away from Janus did she find a boyfriend; maybe it's her karma, maybe its her idiosyncrasy..." (at that point I begin to suspect he means me) "She has asked to return to Janus lately, I accepted, but I know she will leave again soon; nevertheless, I am not going to take her back for a second time, I won't allow such a disciple to come back..."

Monday, 23rd October 1995

This afternoon I finished the fifth volume of my illustrated manuscripts "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy". I consider this book to be the culmination of the whole series, as it is the most well-written, with the most impressive illustrations. It contains only two stories.

I have noticed just a few contacts and they were all in the second story: a) I write and illustrate a scene where Sandra fights with gigong sticks. A few hours later Josef, my nephew, holds two similar sticks and acts as if he were fighting with them. b) I write and illustrate a scene where Sandra hits Venor on the neck with her elbow. In the same evening, my sister accidentally hits Milena, her best friend, on the neck with her elbow.

Saturday, 11th November 1995

Early in the morning Denia called and we arranged to meet at Filopappos Hill this afternoon, together with three other girls she has recently met through correspondence: Helen Tanagra is 21 years old, tall and plump; she has a beautiful face, she looks nice and quiet and she happens to live in Glyfada. Helen Tandoulou is 24 years old, she knows four foreign languages and she gives private lessons to children. Xanthippe Malamos is 25 years old, she has impressive, long black hair and she works as a secretary in a shipping company in Varkiza.

At first I liked Xanthippe, as she looked cheerful and talkative; however, she soon proved to be a spirit of contradiction. She always argues to any opinion, spoiling any conversation. I did have a very nice time with the girls this evening, but Xanthippe got on my nerves because she kept objecting to anything we said.

... The fact is that I, the "misfit", have met quite a few new friends lately; although these persons look for friends in classified ads, they prove to be more positive and well-disposed than the so called "normal" people. They may be conservative, stressed, lonely, but they show a genuine desire for new experiences and they are more innocent, more sincere than the majority of the people I know.

Tuesday, 28th December 1995

Night Adventure: Aliens, which look like gigantic parasites, invade the earth. A young couple consists their biggest enemy. The two of them discover an alien womb in an isolated building; it looks glassy, it is full of alien monsters and it gets bigger and bigger, moment by moment. Suddenly, the womb grows long, bird-like legs. The girl informs the boy at once. He runs and overturns the "temperature bars"; the environment gets cold and this suspends the growth of the womb. The young couple run fast so as to save themselves, while the womb, with its ugly bird-like legs, chases them along the road...۩

There is a matter that has been bothering me a lot recently: A few days ago old-Zarifis died. Since he lived right next to me, pretty soon one of his two grandsons, Takis, will take his apartment. He is already moving in, making a lot of noise all day today. The problem is he will be living right on the other side of the wall – he, his electric guitar, his stereo and his mania for rock music on full blast. I have very bad forebodings already...

* * * *

Sunday, 14th January 1996

In the last two months, I have met Helen Tandoulou and Helen Tanagra many times. The three of us have a nice time together, yet Tandoulou sets me thinking sometimes: On one hand she is intelligent and knowledgeable about many subjects; on the other hand she is rather bossy and obsessed with religion; she is also a scrooge, counting every cent she is to pay. She always wants us to meet no later than 6:00 in the afternoon so that she can be back home by 10:00, because she is afraid of being out at night, she says. What bothers me most, is that she often tries to be clever and she likes slighting the others -especially me.

Last night we went out to a nice cafeteria at Kalogiron Square and she managed to piss me off with her malignant hints: She dislikes my going to the gym ("Only women of easy virtue do aerobics"), my living in Glyfada ("certain persons think they are aristocrats just because they live in Glyfada"), my speaking foreign languages just like she does ("Actually, you don't know any language since you don't have a university degree" -she doesn't either). I usually act the fool lest I should lose my new friend...

Friday, 16th February 1996

The main reason I decided to return to Janus is the quest for spiritual development, as well as a desire for a wider social circle. Unfortunately, the Janus of today has nothing to do with the Janus of 1990: First of all, we are hardly given any knowledge, since we never complete a subject. We don't even practice meditation in class.

Moreover, the monthly fee has risen to 12,000 drachmas and, almost every time, it is the exclusive topic of the lesson: "Certain ungrateful people, who are unworthy disciples, always delay their monthly fee and Janus faces serious financial problems because of them" Alexander keeps harping on the same string, vexing me more and more every time. I guess he could be right about some persons, but what about the rest of us who pay regularly? Why do we have to endure all this nonsense in every lesson? He also talks about necessary "extra contributions" that we, like good disciples, ought to make often and eagerly. I just can't hear this any more.

There is also something else: Every time, after the lesson, I suggest our going for a drink at Fokionos Negri Square -just like we did some years ago- but none of the other disciples seems to like the idea; in fact, they all seem to detest it. My only friend there is Mary Glenos. She occasionally calles me and we chat on the phone for half an hour or so, but she avoids arranging an outing with me. As about her 22-year-old daughter, I was surprised to know she is in the same class in Janus; strangely enough, mother and daughter never sit next to each other and they seldom talk before or after the lesson. Unless Mary had told me, I wouldn't know who her daughter is...

Friday, 23rd February 1996

Returning from Janus this evening, as I walked into Dardanellion street, not far from my home, all at once I had a sudden realization: The road behind me no longer exists; a new road unfolds before me; time and space around me changes moment by moment, step by step; every moment, a world dies and a world is born...

This is how I suddenly got the Key to Awareness – which allows me to experience the interrelation between time and space, to experience death and birth every moment, always expecting the unforeseeable.

And a strange coincidence: In the very next lesson at Janus, Alexander will speak about the awareness of time and space! Does he really have exceptional psychic powers?

Saturday, 24th February 1996

One of the positive aspects of the Janus case is that I have found my good old friends, Aphrodite and Theano, again. We occasionally meet at Aphrodite's, just like we used to some years ago, and we revel in long, delightful conversations about our favourite subjects: parapsychology, psychic experiences, lucid dreaming and the like. I can say we still share a strong inner relationship and we get along very well.

Nevertheless, I often suspect -from askance looks, certain phrases, bored movements- that Aphrodite doesn't really like such discussions. Besides, she is obviously more interested in sex than metaphysics now. As she explained to me this evening, when I visited her, during the three years we have been apart she has gone steady with lots of men, until she ended up in a yearlong relationship with a woman! Anyway, for the time being she is single; she doesn't have any love affair of any kind...

Wednesday, 28th February 1996

I have arranged to meet Helen Tanagra this evening and suggested we go to "Onar", a wonderful cafeteria in Argyroupolis: the decoration reminds of ancient Greece, as there are white columns, sculpted pediments, earthen vessels, artificial but life-like plants, supposed archaeological finds enclosed in glass showcases on the floor, fine rock music, pleasant ambiance.

However, as soon as we reach the threshold at 9:00 o' clock, suddenly Helen stays still as if she were rooted to the spot. "I'm not going in there, it's too dark!" she declares sharply. I try to make her change her mind, assuring her that I have been in this cafeteria before, that the environment is alright, that there is no danger -in vain: Helen remains as solid as a rock. I have no other alternative but run all the way to Vouliagmenis Avenue together with her, wait for the bus to Glyfada and finally end up in a colourless cafeteria of the common run.

Soon Helen proves to be boring and insecure, as she barely has anything to say; in fact, every word has to be screwed out of her. Moreover, she is always trying to prettify her public image -rather awkwardly I'd say: Tonight, once again she told me she has a love affair with a young man from Crete, yet they only phone each other. She also trumpets forth that all men go crazy about her, despite her 120 kilos, and that she has studied microbiology ‒ yet, she has never set foot in the university. From now on I will avoid going out with her only, as she is a mollycoddle and she hardly talks...

Monday, 4th March 1996

For some months now I have been meeting Christina on the bus to work every day. We always sit together and chat pleasantly as, despite her young age, we have many common interests and we keep good company to each other.

Especially this morning, she revealed to me many things about herself: She is 23 years old, very sociable and popular, with a large circle of friends! I talked to her about myself too, adding a fib or two, that I also have many friends and that I often go out to discos and clubs. She was impressed and she suggested my joining her party! I accepted at once, full of joy. Then we exchanged phone numbers and she told me she would talk to the others about me. "Tomorrow morning I will let you know about our next outing!" she concluded smiling and I was on cloud nine! At last, I will start going out with a large, cheerful party of young people, one of those I always envied but never had the chance to approach -not even in a summer night dream, I thought.

Tuesday, 5th March 1996

It is early in the morning and I am at the bus station, waiting impatiently for Christina to turn up. However time goes by slowly and she is nowhere to see. The bus is already leaving when I see her arriving; she is running as fast as she can, yet she misses the bus for two seconds! Maybe tomorrow, I hope.

... Nevertheless, I am never going to meet Christina again. For some strange reason, she will never appear at the bus station again. I will call her twice until the end of the month, I will propose our going out together, she will promise to call me back, but no; I will never see or hear from her again.

Doubts: Something very weird is going on under the surface of reality. Everything looks like a foul play – but what part is mine in all this performance? There are dark forces controlling our existence (fate, nature, time, genes) and our lives (secret orders, networks, institutions) with obscure purposes. I can't predict everything, I can't escape from everything. It's time I got used to the idea.

Neither can I believe all the rubbish propagandized by modern cults, that there is a balance between Good and Evil in the universe. On the contrary, it is crystal clear to me that Evil prevails everywhere. For example, when an infant has an accident and is paralyzed for the rest of his life, I can never swallow the tale that "this event serves an invisible but good purpose" or "his soul chose this because he needs this experience", or "he is punished for something bad he did in his past life" and all that paranoiac piffle. Let's face the truth: The world we live in is very far from perfect...

Chapter 33: Deviations

Sunday, 10th March 1996

It's been about a month now that I've been friends with Diana, whom I met in the gym. She is 26 years old, she has studied French Literature, she is a successful sales manager in a big company which trades in books, she gets a monthly salary of 240,000 drachmas, and she has a rich social life. In two words, she is a normal person! I can hardly believe she and I have become friends!

At first she makes a good impression to me, as she proves to be an intelligent, interesting, dynamic person, entirely different from all the other friends I've had so far. On the other hand, any time I tell her about my problems at work, such as continuous computer breakdowns, she jumps at the opportunity to belittle and offend me: "But what are you, a nitwit? Don't you know how to fix a system error by yourself?" ... "What kind of company is this you work for? I think your boss is a niggard!" ... "People who do office work are stupid!"

I began to suspect what's going on with her last night, when we went out together and she revealed more details about her job: As a sales manager, she controls some teams of commercial travellers. Mostly they sell in Athens, but they also travel all over Greece and sell books door to door.

"Peasants are very easy to handle: Before they know it, they are persuaded to buy expensive encyclopedias, which they pay by monthly installments!" Diana said complacently.

"How is this possible? As far as I know, people hardly open their doors to travelling salesmen!" I retorted, but Diana was ready to answer:

"People do open their doors and buy whatever they are told, if the salesman knows his job!"

According to Diana, salesmen are superhuman beings, a lot superior to the average person. Firstly, they attend some special seminars which render them omnipotent speakers, able to persuade anyone to do anything; moreover, they get exceptional knowledge of psychology, so that they can control perfectly the subconscious of a potential customer, making him or her buy whatever they want, no matter how expensive or useless it is...

Tuesday, 19th March 1996

Like any time we go out together for a coffee, once again this afternoon Diana is trumpeting forth how proud she is of her job. She believes she is great at what she does and she likes bragging about it: "A good sales manager, like me, is irreplaceable! Not like all those stupid office clerks who are all disposable!"

Then, full of arrogance, she claims it is very easy for a travelling salesman to earn as much as 600,000 drachmas per month, whereas the basic salary of an office employee is no more than 140,000 drachmas. "They are losers, who stupidly make do with 140,000 drachmas a month; they are cyphers, all of them!" she cries pompously and goes on with an air of profundity: "A businessman wants to earn as much as possible, this is natural! He will pay you as little as he can, unless you prove to him you deserve to be given something more!" ... "A clever businessman will hire a secretary who will work for him for a month or so ''on trial'', then he will tell her she is incompetent and he will fire her without paying her a dime; then he will hire another stupid chick who will work for him for another month without payment, then another one will take her place, and so on, until he finds the one who will satisfy him fully" harangues Diana, showing her admiration for bosses.

When I tell her I earn no more than 160,000 drachmas per month, she looks at me scornfully and says: "You work in the production department, I work in the sales department -that's the difference! There is only one kind of work that's worth the while today, and this is sales!" she concludes triumphantly.

"Yes, but I work only six hours a day, whereas you work ten hours and you aren't paid any overtime! If I worked so many hours as you, I would earn more than 250,000 per month!" I reply and she shuts up.

Tuesday, 26th March 1996

This afternoon I saw Diana at the gym, we had an aerobics lesson and then, as we were leaving together, she revealed to me some more interesting details about her job; in fact, she didn't hesitate at all to describe -always with an air of importance- a fixed fraud committed by the company she works for: It all starts with an advertisement they place in the newspaper every week, looking for new commercial travellers; they offer an alluring basic salary, as well as commission on the sales, plus social security.

"What if someone doesn't sell enough in a month?" I wonder.

"Every would-be salesman signs a contract which contains a penal clause: If the salesman doesn't sell enough within the first month of work, which is ''on trial'', they are not only fired without being paid but they also have to pay 50,000 drachmas to the company!" she explains with glowing eyes.

"Amazing! Maybe I could organize a trick like this so as to earn some serious money!" I exclaim spontaneously.

"Our company offers you two weeks of free seminars!" snorts Diana. "These lessons provide you with all the knowledge you need so as to manipulate customers and sell books. If you don't sell, it means you are a moron and the company has suffered a loss by allowing you to participate in the seminars. So, they do what's right: they fire you, they don't give you a dime and they make you pay the penal clause!"

"What if someone refuses to pay?"

"If anyone dares oppose to us, our team of lawyers will take their pants!"

"I bet the company earns more from penal clauses than from book sales!" I conclude.

... That explains it: Lately I have heard about certain persons who, though illiterate, have become successful travelling salesmen and earn up to 700,000 drachmas per month! Taking into account that a salesman's commission is no higher than 10%, how do they manage to make sales of 7,000,000 drachmas every month? What do they really sell? Encyclopedias? Come on now! Nowadays you can find cheap and voluminous encyclopedias in bookstores or, even, on offer in newspapers! Why would anyone pay dearly a commercial traveller? Unless they sell other things, other ''services'', instead of books...

Tuesday, 11th June 1996

I barely go out with Diana anymore, I don't like her and she doesn't like me; yet I still meet her at the gym. This afternoon she looked distracted but triumphant, as she showed me two or three circular bruises on her right hand; looking at them more carefully, I saw they were bites.

"Did a dog bite you?" I asked her.

"No! It was a would-be saleswoman!" she answered, and I was flabbergasted.

Then, with an air of importance, she narrated the whole story to me: Yesterday morning a young woman came into Diana's office; she aspired to become a professional commercial traveller, she was beautiful and well-dressed, with a pleasant personality; in two words, she looked suitable for the job. She also signed the contract without reading the "small letters" -just like most candidates do. However, as soon as she realized the fraud (too late), she pounced on Diana and fought very hard to grab the contract from her hands and tear it up -she even bit her! Unfortunately for the girl, in the end she didn't manage to get the contract.

"Our lawyers are going to put her into very serious trouble!" went on Diana, glowing with exhilaration. "I have already sued her, because that imbecile bit a nerve on my hand and I can't close it well now!" – humbug: there is nothing wrong with Diana's hand. "I will ask her to make amends to me for this injury, I can demand three million drachmas at least, our lawyers say! Woo is her, who dared tangle with me!" Diana burst out, full of anger.

"Will it be so simple? Won't she also hire a lawyer?"

"Nobody can confront the lawyers of our company!" Diana exclaimed, obviously vexed. "Their main job is to take care of all those nitwits who refuse to pay the penal clause!" While shouting, she got even more exasperated: "My fair lady, you were stupid enough to sign the contract! So, pay the fifty thousand and let us be!" she screamed like a drama actress.

After we had left the gym, Diana stopped at a telephone booth so as to phone her lawyer, as she told me. I stood at a distance and waited, but she kept shouting – I guess on purpose, because she wanted me to hear and envy her: "So, I can ask for even more money... four million drachmas... maybe more! Fine, fine! Thank you very much!" ... "You see?" she smiled to me cunningly as soon as she hung up. "That's why you must always have a lawyer handy! Better yet, have not only one, but many! In this way, you can make a lot of money from suckers! I am going to leave that bitch penniless!" she concluded triumphantly.

"Why don't you send her to me too? I need some millions of drachmas too!"

"But... but she won't make the same mistake again!" Diana stuttered; obviously, she didn't get the irony.

"Tell her to come and find me in Pangaea, on the fifth floor! She shouldn't go to the third floor, the bosses are there and they don't need any more money! I do!" I kept on pulling her leg.

I will never find out how this story ends. I will see Diana at the gym two more times till the end of the month and that's all...

Tuesday, 18th June 1996

This evening I had an unexpected phone call from Rena, one of the most "advanced" disciples in Janus – she also happens to be the secretary of the centre. With remarkable politeness, as well as subtle pressure, she asked me to translate (free of charge, of course) Alexander's book "Self-knowledge and Metaphysics" from Greek into English as soon as possible, so that they can present it at the Book Fair of Frankfurt in October.

I accepted willingly, because I wanted to show good will, obedience and a spirit of service to the leaders of Janus, hoping they will eventually begin to like me. Right from tomorrow I will start working on the translation feverishly, aiming to finish it by the end of summer. It should be noted that the book is rather badly-written...

Thursday, 20th June 1996

As I was informed by an advertisement posted up all over the city of Athens, a famous lama has just arrived in Greece. He is of European origin but he has spent many years in Tibet; for many years now, he has been travelling all over the world teaching Tibetan Buddhism. This afternoon he is giving a lecture about how to face unhappiness. He seems to be a very agreeable person, and the subject interests me a lot; moreover, the lecture is taking place at a centre of Buddhism which is only some metres away from Aphrodite's house!

I wish to attend the lecture but I would rather not go alone, so at about noon I phone Aphrodite and let her know. I expect her to be enthusiastic about it, yet I am nonplussed at her immediate frigidity: "I have nothing to do this afternoon, but I am not in the mood of going to such a lecture, I had better stay home alone," she announces in a low voice and leaves me wondering, since she has always given me the impression of being very interested in such matters. I try to bring her round, she resists, I emphasize I will come all the way from Glyfada, while she will only have to walk some metres; she grumbles a little more and finally she says in a plaintive voice: "Alright, Yvonne, I will come. But you should know I will do so just because a friend is asking me to, there is no other reason!". I don't like this conclusion, but I act the fool so as to achieve my goal.

We meet outside the centre of Buddhism at 8:00 o' clock. I wonder again, because Aphrodite doesn't seem to be bored or sulky now, she looks cheerful and lively. The lama proves to be quite agreeable and interesting, he answers all questions carefully and diplomatically, he surely knows how to win his audience over to his views. He speaks English and one of his disciples translates his words into Greek. At a moment, he advises us: "When bad things happen to you, instead of thinking ''I am unhappy'', you had better think ''There is unhappiness in the world''. In this way, you won't be feeling like a target any more!"

This statement makes me think because it breaks the Ego; on the other hand, it is a reasonable way to fight that dominant impression I have had ever since I was an infant: I have never stopped feeling like a target of visible and invisible evil forces, though I often try to ignore it. Maybe this feeling is nothing more than selfishness in disguise -according to the lama and most gurus...

* * * *

Wednesday, 31st July 1996

The truth is I am disappointed from life. No matter how hard I try to achieve something in any field of life, the result is always poor or naught. That's why I have returned to Janus, that's why I am ready to go to Alexander's asram again, despite the fiasco of '92. This time I am even willing to pay 90,000 drachmas for ten days. The price includes accommodation in tents and full board. On the other hand, this is the best proposal for holidays I've had this summer. I know I won't have a good time but I am leaving tomorrow morning...

Sunday, 11th August 1996

All things considered, it was much nicer than I thought; the asram has been improved a lot since 1992: A spacious cottage has been built to the west, and another one is under construction nearby. To the south there is a vast field of cultivated vegetables. The central field is still full of nut-trees at the shadow of which we have set up our tents. In the middle there is a picturesque pond full of goldfish; it is decorated with a wooden bridge, stone banks and a green islet with a palm-tree on top. To the east they have constructed a big tank, which receives water from the spring and serves mostly as a swimming pool. To the north there is a well-built stone wall; behind it, the thick forest of fir-trees.

Every day we followed a specific routine which, although it restricted our freedom a little, made life simpler: In the morning we performed various tasks such as cooking, cleaning the house and the lavatories, washing the dishes etc. I also managed to finish the translation of "Self-Knowledge and Metaphysics" from Greek into English ‒ that's about 200 pages in one and a half month! To my surprise, though, I found out the same task had been assigned to Danae, who had hardly finished the first chapter!

In the afternoon we all went to the swimming pool; we swam from 5:00 to 6:00 every day, together with the three huge dogs that roamed about the estate: one belongs to Alexander and the other two belong to close disciples of his. Very soon the water was full of dog hairs but nobody ever complained. I only wondered: Couldn't the animals swim right after we had come out of the pool?

In the evenings, all twenty of us gathered around the big table outside the cottage. Some guys played the guitar and we all sang various songs, Greek or foreign, under the stars. It felt wonderful...

During my stay in the asram I also had the opportunity to improve my relationship with Maria Glenos, with whom I shared the tent. We took part in interesting discussions, we played volleyball with the others, we walked to the nearby village every afternoon. On the fourth day, I was happy to see Aphrodite and Theano arrive at the asram.

In general, we all got along very well; in fact, I was surprised to realize there were no whims, disagreements, or quarrels among us during these ten days in the asram; I mean, if you take twenty "normal" persons and send them on holidays together, pretty soon they won't be able to tolerate each other. When I explained these thoughts of mine to Maria, she commented that "The guru has done a very good job with his disciples."

In the morning of my departure, as we were all sitting around the big table taking breakfast, Alexander turned to me and thanked me for the translation I finished so quickly. According to his publisher, I have done "a very good job, but the book has changed style". Then he turned to another disciple and proposed her correcting my translation, so that the text will return to its original style. I smiled and accepted the guru's review – which was nothing more than one of his tricks for breaking Egos. I only explained that when a book is translated into another language, it inevitably changes style. So, that was my reward for the hard, specialized and unpaid work of one and a half month: The guru talked to me for ten whole minutes (something unprecedented within the five years in total I have attended Janus), he advised me to wear more modern clothes and nicer glasses, and he made clear that men avoid me because of my high intelligence and strong personality. He also acknowledged my discovery about the awareness of time and space; "Yet, if your Ego is satisfied by it, you are in danger of losing the way," he concluded with a solemn face.

Tuesday, 27th August 1996

Yesterday I came back from the island of Corfu, where I spent five days together with Helen Tandoulou and Vlassis, her retarded brother. Of course we went there on an organized trip, of course I stayed in my own single room. I know well how wayward my friend is...

During those five days of vacations, Helen didn't stop for a minute criticizing or belittling me over trifles. Especially at noon, when I was hungry and I wanted to go to a restaurant and eat something decent, Helen screamed that restaurants are too expensive, that we ought to eat nothing more than a souvlaki in hand, and that "certain people are like pigs, all they care about is food, food, food!". As about her brother, he didn't utter a word; he only followed obediently. Undoubtedly, he came with us just because his religious parents had compelled him to, so as to guard his sister's virginity!

At least, we did visit some wonderful places: Pontikonisi, Mon Repos, Barbati, Achilleion, Paleokastritsa, Benitses, Pelekas etc. I enjoyed every moment, although Helen wouldn't stop grumbling: "Isn't this a nasty beach!" ... "There is nothing but old ruins here!" ... "We were ripped off in that taverna!" -let alone her ironic remarks:

"You like that guy, so what? When you look like an old witch, such a man will never fancy you!"

"Happiness isn't only to do what you want; happiness is also not to do what you don't want," I answered but I don't think she got it.

My company in that trip was really bad, but fortunately we met three other young women from the group, with whom we arranged night outings to the clubs of Corfu, despite Helen's neurotic objections: "Why go to those sinks of debauchery which, moreover, are too expensive?". Yet, she and her brother always followed us to those "sinks of debauchery" and we all had a fine time there...

Saturday, 21st September 1996

Tonight Pangaea is giving a reception at a big hotel in Athens, so as to celebrate the completion of the 15-volume encyclopedia "Arts in the World". All employees have been invited (about eighty persons), all but two: Helen Roussos and me, although both of us belong to the team who worked for this encyclopedia: Helen as a proof-reader, I as an editor's secretary. "I am sorry about our bosses' boorishness, girls" said Mrs Julia, our chief editor.

Not that I care about this, yet I wonder: Why weren't we invited? Are Helen and I the only ones in the company who don't belong to high society? Or are we the only ones who don't belong to a network? I just wonder...

Wednesday, 25th September 1996

It was almost midnight when I got on the bus home after an outing with my friends. As I walked inside, I suddenly saw a man's hand snap its fingers before me, so as to distract my attention. I turned and faced Emmanuel, a tall, muscular, handsome guy who used to come to the gym. He started talking to me happily, and he clearly showed his interest in me! We got off at the same bus-stop, we exchanged telephone numbers and we parted with a friendly kiss on the cheek. I was feeling very excited, I could hardly believe my good luck!

I was about to cross Hymettus Avenue, when I noticed something very strange on the pavement at the opposite side of the street. I tried to discern what it was and I refused to believe my eyes: "What is this? What is this now?" I soliloquized and then, as I took two steps towards it, I saw it clearly: It was a dog lying on its back, with its legs stretched to the sky; its body looked bloated, as if it had been drowned! I observed more carefully, hoping to have seen wrong -but no. My heart was beating fast as I walked away, choosing to ignore completely that sinister sign of fate...

Saturday, 12th October 1996

Since Emmanuel hasn't phoned me so far, this morning I decided to call him. He sounded happy to hear me and we arranged to meet at 11:00 at night. It is impossible for him to go out earlier, he says.

When we meet, we agree to go to a nearby pizzeria which, especially today, offers as much pizza as we want at the low price of 1300 drachmas. Right from the start, the gentleman makes it clear he has no intention of paying for me; I wouldn't expect him to do so, anyway.

In the beginning, we talk about ages: Emmanuel is only 21 years old -I thought he was older- and I lie to him I am 26. All my friends believe I am that old, because I do look a lot younger than my age. However, I am not sure whether he believes it too: "So, you are 26? Alright, no problem," he says enigmatically.

Then we talk about education and jobs. He seems to be quite proud of working as a doorman in a certain club in Athens, where there is traffic in drugs and sex in the toilets. He has only finished junior high school but he considers himself superior to university graduates, since he earns a lot of money from his job. He becomes ironic when I tell him I speak four languages and I work as an editor's secretary in a publishing company: "You have spent many years at school but now you make a lot of money!" he mocks.

After a while, he looks bored and nervous: "We shouldn't have come here! You should have invited me home, so as to spend a nice night together!" he snorts. As soon as he realizes I don't intend to do so, he can barely hide his exasperation. In a rather aggressive manner, he starts interrogating me about my experience in love. When I lie to him that I have some previous experience but not much, he spits out scornfully: "When I was in junior high school, all my classmates, boys and girls, had sexual relationships! And we sniffed at those girls who were still virgins at the age of thirteen!"

At least he is kind enough to escort me home; the time is 2:00 am now. At a moment he holds my hand – probably hoping for a night of wild sex. As we reach the corner of Nereid street, I show him where my apartment is. Then, without my expecting it at all, he pauses and seeks to kiss and hug me. I try to respond accordingly but he senses my embarrassment at once:

"Hey, what's that?" he cries in disapproval.

"You took me by surprise," I excuse myself.

"Oh, no, no, I'll pass!" he exclaims in abhorrence and, without my realizing what's going on, he pushes me away. I just look at him dumbfounded.

"We had better be friends only, nothing else!" he adds nervously and he takes his hand off mine. "Call me," he says as he goes away hastily.

This is what I intend to do soon -until next morning. Suddenly, I am so gloomy and confused, and I don't feel like seeing Emmanuel ever again. By the way: Why do I always feel so sad after a date with a man? Why do they all make me feel like a retard or a failed whore right from the first date? Why am I so unlucky? Or am I not? Are, maybe, all men villains by nature?

Saturday, 16th November 1996

Miracles do happen! After many months of negotiations, I finally managed to persuade some guys from Janus to arrange an outing tonight! So, seven of us met at a nice cafeteria in Exarchia, at 7:00 o' clock in the evening. The place, with its thick white walls, the rustic furniture and the cosy atmosphere, reminded of a country house.

For about an hour we were all having a nice time, until we started talking about unemployment which is getting worse and worse in our country year after year. Having in mind Helen Tandoulou, who earns a living as a private tutor, I said: "It is true there are hardly any good jobs nowadays, that's why many people are forced to do odd jobs, like private lessons. For example, a friend of mine gives private lessons of English and she is the best of all!"

Compact ice! Everybody froze! The atmosphere around me became an impenetrable wall of ice! All at once I felt a violent separation from the others, a strong, massive, absolute disapproval. I was astonished to realize everyone had been irreparably offended by that last statement of mine. Right after, there was a lot of murmuring around the table.

Constantine and Eva (a middle-aged couple who have nothing to do with private lessons) were already in a hurry to leave: "It's time we old folks went home!" said Eva with a hypocritical smile on her face. George and Ann (snob music teachers, obviously insulted) also wanted to leave immediately: "Let's go and give some private lesson, so as to earn a dime," said George bitterly. Mary Glenos, who was sitting next to me, stayed taciturn. The only one who didn't seem to be offended was Jimmy, a young physicist who works as a private tutor.

We stood up and left the place hastily, at about 8:15. Jimmy suggested he and I should go and sit somewhere else, but the whole incident had spoilt my fun and I was not in the mood for anything like that...

Friday, 27th December 1996

Last night my friend Aphrodite called and invited me to the celebration she and Stephanie (her co-tenant) are having tonight. "It is Stephanie's name-day tomorrow, we have invited many people and we are going to have lots of fun!" she told me cheerfully.

It is 8:00 o' clock in the evening now, and I knock on their door full of excitement, ready for a happy night with a large party -such joys are rare for me. I won't go to Janus tonight, where I normally have a lesson at 9:00. Tonight I intend to enjoy myself.

When I get in, the two women welcome me cordially. As I can see, I am the second guest to arrive, after Stephanie's sister. After a while, Stephanie and her sister go and sit alone in the big living room, where they chat in low voices. Aphrodite and I stay in the kitchen.

At a moment the phone rings. As I can hear, it is someone from Janus and they have called to wish many happy returns to Stephanie. They speak with Aphrodite too, and when she hangs up she comes to me with a box of cupcakes in her hands. Then, like a bold from the blue, she announces to me: "Yvonne, now that you will go to Janus, give them these cupcakes and say they are from me!"

I don't get it immediately and I just stare at her dumbfounded. Aphrodite repeats slowly. It takes me a few minutes to realize what's going on.

"Why are you sending them cupcakes?" asks Stephanie, who happens to enter the kitchen at that moment.

"They called and wished many happy returns," explains Aphrodite, rather thoughtful.

"So, what? Shall we let them fuck us?" mocks the other one and leaves the room.

In the meantime many guests have arrived and gathered in the living room. For about half an hour I sit and talk with them happily, as if nothing were going on. Yet, at about 8:55 I stand up and bid farewell because "I must go now". This is not what I had planned, but eventually I will spend this Friday night at Janus; at least, it is just a few-minutes walk from here.

"Yvonne, we didn't talk enough this time; I hope you are not angry at me!" my friend says, as I go down the stairs with the box of cupcakes in hand.

"What are you talking about? Of course not!" I assure her and disappear from her life for ever.

... I didn't hear a word from that lesson. I was only feeling a deep grief growing fast inside me, turning into a dark ocean of self-pity and desperation. I could feel my face being contorted with sadness. Alexander noticed and showed an interest. Naturally, I refused to explain in class what and how. "I only hope I am not the one who caused this," he said, and then he tried to make me feel better by revealing to the class that "Yvonne is an unselfish person indeed: she was willing to translate ''Self-knowledge and Metaphysics'' from Greek into English free of charge, she did her best and finished it within a month!". I appreciated his attempt to cheer me up at this hard time -but it was in vain: I was still feeling miserable, as if all the whole world were falling apart before me...

Saturday, 28th December 1996

Truth hurts: After that celebration in Aphrodite's house yesterday, from where I was actually turned away, I must face a truth I have known for a long time but refused to see up to now: For years and years I have been trying to become "sociable", "agreeable", "lovely", yet all I have achieved is beat the air! Human beings have never liked me and they have always sought to crash me by labelling me as "stupid", "unsociable", "a loser", "a misfit" and so on. On the other hand, I often act in a neurotic manner, like a typical victim of a self-realized prophesy. When everybody treats you as if you were a fool, in all likelihood you will become a fool.

I have tried very hard to become popular, socializing with all kinds of persons indiscriminately. I often yield to other people's demands, or act the fool by ignoring their insults or mockeries; sometimes I even seek to show off my knowledge and intelligence, so as to prove my worth to them. To no avail, of course; There is only one virtue for them, and this is promiscuity.

As about all these parties I have joined so far, I've never been an equal member. I have always been "a cog in the machine", constantly obliged to follow, obey, stay silent, show "understanding" and "patience". They tolerate my presence as long as I cringe before them. Any time I show the slightest opinion, preference or disobedience, they kick me out as if I were a mangy dog. They have always been doing this to me because I am not human, full of wickedness, cunning, lust. I am different to them – that's why they detest me, they envy me, they are afraid of me!

And here I face what I've been trying to ignore for so many years: The hatred and contempt of the others towards me. Indeed, nothing scares me more than human wickedness. I prefer to confront a natural disaster -a flood, an earthquake, a hurricane- than satanic humans. It's impossible to predict what they plan against me every time, so I can't defend myself effectively.

This is natural, of course: In general, when someone intends to harm you, a) you can't imagine who it is; you are usually stabbed in the back by the one you suspect least, b) you don't know what this person is up to, c) or when they are going to strike, d) or how many and who their accomplices are. When you finally realize you are in trap, it is already too late.

Human nature is evil: Humans are genetically programmed to worship and obey those who do the greatest evil. The more evil you do, the more havoc you wreak on animate beings or inanimate things, the more you are respected by humans. If you are quiet and good-hearted, they consider you to be weak and they automatically push on the fringe of society. Paradoxically, natural abilities, intelligence or, even, brawn, are not at all important for the choice of a leader within the human herd: It is harum-scarum who rule! Which means: Human beings are monsters!

My nature is entirely different: I neither rule nor follow, like all "normal" people do. I neither exploit others nor serve a herd – although I have often tried, always without success, to achieve the latter. As a result, I am spontaneously pushed out of society, out of humanity. I am not a monster; that's why monsters constantly try to destroy me any way they can. However, in spite of their continuous efforts I remain strong, hopeful, clean. And they fume with rage...

A serious error of mine: Up to now, instead of studying myself and my real potentialities, I have been busy with monsters: I have wasted a lot of energy, time and gray matter to find out how they think, how they act, what they like, how I will be agreeable to them and so on. Yet, they are all dirty, wicked, perverted. Those who seem to be "good", they are either hypocrites or handicapped.

Ever since I was born, they have been doing nothing but murdering me slowly: by sabotaging everything I do, they always make me feel stressed, anxious, sad, discouraged, unworthy. But enough with monsters! Now I know: With their incessant subtle war against me they have been damaging my body and soul. Negative feelings can kill.

All psychological problems I've had from time to time, have been caused by their wickedness -and I was naïve enough to trust them. Up to this day I thought communication with the others were the most important thing in life. I was completely wrong. When they disappear, all my psychological problems disappear as well: stress, nervousness, depression, timidity, self-pity, misery. Loneliness is heavenly...

* * * *

Wednesday, 22nd January 1997

New year, new (hopeful?) start: Despite the relative improvement of my social life in the last two years, I can't say I feel satisfied. Why, indeed? Maybe because all those friends I've found during this period are rather bereft persons. Moreover, they are isolated from the rest of the human race -just like I am; therefore, they can't help me in anything.

Not knowing what else to do in order to improve my social life, I have decided to quit gyms and start taekwondo lessons at Nicky's school, which is only a five-minute walk from my house. Physical exercise is certainly much harder here, while it requires special suppleness which -let's face it- I've never had. I often have the impression that my inability to perform certain moves correctly has been noticed and commented by the rest of the pupils.

I have also started to take yoga lessons at Janus, right before my class on Monday afternoon. I don't really know why I do this; yoga is very boring here, let alone I have to carry my gym outfit all the way from home, in a plastic bag.

This evening I asked Mary, the receptionist, if I could leave the bag with my clothes somewhere in Janus, so as not to carry them any time from Glyfada to Kypseli and conversely. She smiled and answered: "There is a place for that, under the kitchen-sink!". As I found out soon, under the kitchen-sink there is place only for the rubbish bin. Mary's message was clear: Your place is with the rubbish, since you are nothing but rubbish...

Friday, 24th January 1997

However, what bothers me most is that shrew of Lucy Parissis: She is a wayward old-maid who has come to Pangaea recently. She is a professor of Religion, she is here to edit "The Unknown History of Christianity", she is considered to be a very important person and she obviously hates my guts -without a reason whatsoever.

By the way: The computer I work on has been upgraded too many times and, as a result, it breaks down every now and then: Sometimes the screen turns black, or the program fails, or the printer doesn't work properly and so on. Naturally, Mrs Parissis can't understand it is not my fault that my computer is faulty. She is constantly slandering me to everybody, grumbling I don't know how to use the computer and that's why it always breaks down. It is a mystery, though, that all problems appear when I type her texts!

This morning, as soon as she stepped into my office with some new texts in hand, the screen suddenly went black with a ''system error'', without my pressing a single key! What the heck, has she got a magnet or something? We called for a technician, as usual, but in the meanwhile the fair lady fumed and fretted at me and started shouting about my incompetence.

I suspect many of my colleagues believe her, although -as I often hear- I am "the best typist this company has ever had". The problem is that day by day the atmosphere around me is getting less and less friendly, which makes me feel more and more stressed...

Thursday, 30th January 1997

Night Adventure: The comic book "Arion and the King's Sceptre" comes alive. Arion is a charming revolutionary with red hair, who robs the king's shipments, coaches and trains. He is strong and brave, he often fights alone against many opponents. Finally, he manages to steal the king's sceptre in a train. He has to fight with many enemies and he gets wounded. In the end, he is stabbed in the back, he gets arrested and decapitated.

Verification: In the evening Alice invites me to watch an adventure film on video, together with her children and her new boyfriend. The plot of the film proves to be very similar to the plot of my dream.

Sunday, 2nd February 1997

Night Adventure: Aliens have reached Earth and they secretly occupy the planet. A man discovers their existence but before he does anything about it, a female alien absorbs him inside her. Then, her body falls into pieces which, when they unite again, they form a creature that looks like her victim. Very soon, the hybrid arrives at a sunny beach. None of the sunbathers can recognize his extraterrestrial nature. I am there too. I find out that the water can destroy the hybrid's body, as well as the bodies of other contaminated humans. They all look like skeletal zombies now and they start chasing me through narrow pathways among the cliffs.

Later I manage to escape from prison but I accidentally send a wrong message to space, which results in more aliens invading the Earth. Soon, beings from Saturn begin to experiment systematically on human beings.

In the end I reach the airport, aiming to take the plane to Boston. However, it won't be long until I find out my enemies have been waiting for me and they start launching "explosive cones" against me. I catch them in the air with my hands and hurl them at the extraterrestrial invaders. Yet, more and more dangerous cones are launched against me and it is too difficult for me to dodge them all...

Saturday, 22nd February 1997

Every other Saturday I pay a visit to my friend Lena (married, well-to-do, boring, with two infants who never get an inch away from their mother) from 4:00 to 6:00 pm exactly – as if I had an appointment with the doctor.

This afternoon I tried to begin a conversation regarding the necessity of human communication, but she interrupted me abruptly:

"All those who like parties, long chats and outings have nothing better to do, they are complete failures! Such persons have no aim in life!"

I pretended not to have taken the hint.

A little later, we started talking about Ivy, a serious and sedate forty-year-old single woman we occasionally meet on the bus to work.

"She has been learning how to play the organ lately; she also goes to a dance school," I informed Lena, who suddenly frowned.

"I don't understand what's the meaning of this all! Frankly, I can't understand why this woman lives! She goes to one place; she goes to another place; so, what? All this is nothing but nonsense for people who have no reason to live!" she concluded, full of contempt for old-maid Ivy.

That was certainly a clear insinuation about me too; and I, as usual, kept on acting the fool lest I should lose that great friend. Nevertheless, the question is still here and it is still unanswered: What am I doing in this bleak and hostile world? I am virtually alone in a society of monsters and -for some strange reason- I have to survive...

Thursday, 27th February 1997

After last night's dinner at Janus, which hardly lasted an hour, without any communication among us, with the guru complaining that he had not been previously notified and that he was doing us a favour by allowing us to gather around that huge board we use as a table (which seems to be specially made to isolate dinner guests) I took my final decision: I am leaving Janus -for good this time.

All things considered, lessons at Janus are nothing but a waste a time: Actually I am dragooned into going there, because they make me think I were lost without it. For quite a long time we've been learning nothing new, maybe because Alexander seems to have become too skeptical about anything: "There are no spirits; spiritualism is fraud" ... "(Self)hypnosis is harmful to the human mind" ... "There is no such thing as magic" ... "There are no astral worlds" ... "There is nothing beyond matter" ... "Telepathy requires a perfectly clean subconscious, so it is unfeasible" and so on.

Alexander has always deified the subconscious but we don't talk about it either. Only once, in a rare demonstration of sincerity, he admitted that the subconscious affects human behaviour only by 2%. The rest 98% is affected by the unconscious, which is genes, as well as other external imponderable factors. However, this truth is usually revealed to the advanced disciples only; the rest of us delude ourselves with the fairy tale of self-improvement – and we never get anywhere.

As for the rest, the only things we talk about in class are delayed monthly fees, extra contributions we ought to offer every now and then, or how little progress we've made -and we are always to blame. No, I can't put up with such inanities anymore, I can't waste my time. It's not that I disapprove completely of Janus, but there is nothing to learn in there anymore...

Chapter 34: Life (?) goes on...

Wednesday, 19th March 1997

This evening my cousin Chryssa paid us a visit together with George, her husband. He is a nice, good-looking and sensible guy; moreover, he is quite wealthy and he has a good job in a big TV channel. The couple have a cute son who is three years old now.

I am really happy about Chryssa, whose life has changed radically within a few years' time: Four years ago, that is before meeting George, she used to live in a small apartment in Kato Patissia and worked as a phototypesetter in a tiny, dark, stuffy printing-office, which was full of rotten paper and huge mice. She was 34 years old then, but she was still single. Moreover, she suffered from systematic lupus erythematosus, a very serious blood disease.

It was about then that Chryssa visited the Monastery of Panagia Malevi in Peloponnese and bowed before the miraculous, myrrh-flowing icon of Virgin Mary, hoping for a miracle. Indeed, her disease has been under control ever since (with medication, of course) and it doesn't bother her any more. Then she happened to meet George, who fell in love with her, despite her illness, and married her six months later, while my cousin was already pregnant.

Chryssa doesn't work anymore, as her husband earns enough to support her and their child. She has let out her apartment in Kato Patissia, and she lives with her family in a spacious, sunny house in the luxurious suburb of Kifissia.

Naturally I feel happy about my cousin, yet I have started to suspect that all human beings, even the most miserable ones, sooner or later, more or less, find what they are looking for. Everybody settles down in the long run – everybody but me and I can't understand why: I believe in God too and I have visited quite a few miraculous churches...

Monday, 24th March 1997

Blond Annie, the 17-year-old slut in taekwondo, knows how to make all men pay attention to her: "I don't know a thing, show me!" she is always mewing and some simpleton will run to "show" her.

As about me, I am like non-existent in there, although I have been going there for almost three months. For some strange reason none of my classmates approaches me except Mary, a 16-year-old girl with whom I chat before the lesson begins. I have tried many times to start a conversation with the others but their extreme frigidity puts me to flight.

I can also sense they underestimate and talk about me because I can't perform certain exercises right; for instance, I can't jump over the back of a standing chair or skip the rope 200 times in a minute. Especially my "dollyo chagi" (side kick), which is rather low, causes lots of ironic smiles and remarks. Anyway, I can't understand why they mind so much; after all, I don't intend to become a champion; I only want to work out.

Who gets most on my nerves is Ellie, a 40-year-old diva who seems to be in command in there. Subtly but clearly she observes and controls everything, while they all gather around her "like a big, happy family". All but me. I can't tell why, but I am always left out. She often arranges outings with all the others, and I am the only one who's never invited. Yet, they always make sure I learn what a wonderful time they've had.

This is what happens every time: Wherever I am, the arch-harlots brand me as "unwanted" and that's it: I am always at the bottom, everyone looks down on me and they fight me until I am eliminated like waste matter. Nevertheless, what I have achieved so far (I have a permanent job, some friends, I work out regularly, I am active in metaphysics) is due to superhuman will and strength of character. Indeed, which "normal" person would go on doing anything, if they faced turned backs and closed doors everywhere? Anybody else in my place would have ended up either in a lunatic asylum or in a cemetery. But I am still here and I persevere...

Human Nature and Fate: The three basic components of the human soul are Wickedness, Cunning and Lust. This is the substratum of all human thoughts, feelings, inspirations and actions.

Lust is the corruption of the body. It is the human innate inclination to enjoy abnormal sex and use it as a means of social ascension. Especially to women, it is a must. A woman without "femininity" (a natural talent for harlotry) is considered to be less than zero. What do we mean when we say that a woman is "smart"? We mean she addicts a man to perversions in order to keep him. Lust rules humanity secretly, like a slimy undercurrent which permeates everything in our society.

Cunning is the corruption of the mind. It is the human innate inclination to satanic inspirations, machinations, intrigues, and underhand dealings. It has nothing to do with intelligence ‒ on the contrary, it is much more manifest in persons of mean or low intelligence, and it is thanks to cunning that the mediocre often supplant the excellent.

Wickedness is the corruption of the soul. This element dominates over the two previous ones and it is the human innate inclination to do the biggest possible evil to animate beings or inanimate things. It is said that humans become wicked and do evil so as to get more money and a higher social status. That's wrong: Human beings are evil by nature and they like causing pain to those who happen to be weaker. Of, course, they always find plenty of other excuses: success in business, increase of wealth, religious, racial or political discrimination etc.

If the above mentioned three elements aren't strong enough in a person, sooner or later he or she is driven out of the human society, like a foreign body. Anyway, it is commonly known that "no good deed goes unpunished". Moreover, the righteous are constantly dogged by all kinds of misfortunes. The more wicked, cunning, perverted you are, the more wealthy, successful, loved you will be.

On the other hand, nobody can say they lack these three characteristics completely; without them, even in a small degree, nobody survives infancy.

... That's why human beings have always rallied against me, launching all kinds of psychic attacks on me, subconsciously aiming either to drive me mad or make me commit suicide: For some strange reason, wickedness, cunning and lust are not sufficiently developed in me. I just don't have it and I can't get it. I imagine this is due to some peculiarity of my DNA. Lust is innate in human beings but not in me...

The war against me has become more subtle recently: I am not derided on the roads anymore, neither am I isolated; yet, they fight me in other, more complicate ways: Sooner or later, all my friends prove to be hypocrites or miserable; at work I am always at the lowest possible position and I take the lowest possible salary. In general, whatever I try to do soon results to a flop.

Nevertheless, as Helen Roussos and Mary Skina (two good colleagues at work) admit, I do have achieved something in life: I have managed not to become a "hen with money", like all those rich women who live in their opulent boredom, pretending they have no idea what dirty business their husbands are involved in...

Friday, 28th March 1997

At last! One of the uncountable (and usually dead-end) ideas I come up with in order to improve my life has just brought a result! Having found out recently that the monthly magazine "Greek Fantasy" publishes short fantasy stories of new writers, I thought of sending them one. This magazine doesn't sell much, but I don't care. So, I corrected and sent them an old story of mine titled "Escape from the Tower of Eons", and it was included in the issue of March! Certainly, this isn't a terrific success, but it is an unprecedented victory for me! I am on cloud nine!

However Josef, my younger nephew, doesn't seem to be happy about this success of mine. On the contrary, he looks angry and annoyed, as if he were jealous! Although he is only seven, he often shows such malice and arrogance which is rare even in adults. Anyway, at a moment he found a black pen and the opportunity to smudge two of the three pages of my published story! When I saw that, I flew off the handle! The little monster managed to stain the only success I've had in my life insofar!

A little later I found him in our yard smirking at me mockingly. Full of rage and frustration, I told him: "I'm never going to forgive you for what you've done! From now on I don't consider you a nephew of mine!" And I meant it. Detail: No matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to find another issue of this magazine in the kiosks...

Sunday, 4th May 1997

Night Adventure: Hora is a beautiful, magical country; a picturesque river with blue gargling water and carved banks flows through it. Nevertheless, evil invades little by little. "How shall we stop it?" the princess wonders. Soon I explore an underwater cavity, the Cave of Amphitrite, which has been kept secret for centuries. I observe the marble relief frescoes, the finely carved ceiling, the strange stalagmites with ivory snakes coiled around them. I think I might find something helpful in here.

Prophetic Dream: Dry, barren land stretches before me, somewhere in Somalia. I shudder with horror as I see the hungry disinterring the dead in order to eat them. Interpretation: Next morning I get a phone call from Emmanuel. He says he has thought a lot during these seven months we haven't met, he has changed his way of life, and he wants to see me again. I automatically refuse and tell him I will call him back, but I don't intend to do anything like that; I don't trust him, anyway. As about the symbolism of the dream: He is hungry for sex, I am dead for sex...

Wednesday, 7th May 1997

Night Adventure: In the basement of Nicky's school there is an underground hangar full of aeroplanes. I, as well as some of my classmates, get down there through a secret passage which reminds of a slide. We soon reach Nicky's asram on the chinese mountains.

The landscape is magical. The master has a very big, impressive taekwondo school there. It is built with glass slabs which reflect the sunlight. The luxury of the edifice astonishes me. We go inside and Nicky shows us some old, precious black belts and other important objects.

Then we come out of the glass building and walk to the top of a nearby hill, where we find a strange lake with black water. A huge, ugly turtle emerges out of the dark lake slowly. We go away slowly and we wonder why Nicky wanted us to see that...

Monday, 12th May 1997

Early in the morning, as soon as I get to work, Mrs Magda Stavrakis (another super educated lady who was hired three months ago, so as to occupy herself with ''The Unknown History of Christianity''), comes into my office. I find it strange when she asks me to go to a nearby mini market and buy a packet of coffee for her; she has always been polite to me and she has never sent me on errands so far – in contrast to some other important persons in the company.

Later on, Mrs Parissis comes into my office and asks about some letters she gave me to type yesterday afternoon. I have already finished them but I am printing them right now. "They will be ready in two minutes" I assure her but, instead of waiting a little, she just disappears.

In less than two minutes, my phone rings; it is Mr Gryparis, the managing director:

"Have you got any untyped texts of Mrs Parissis?" he asks.

"No, nothing, some letters she gave me yesterday are ready now," I explain.

At that moment Mrs Stavrakis rushes into my office.

"Yvonne, what time did you arrive at work this morning?" she asks.

"At 9:20," I answer calmly.

No employee comes to Pangaea earlier than 9:30 every morning.

A little later, Mrs Stavrakis informs me that shrew of Parissis went to the managing director and told him "This morning Yvonne was half an hour absent from her office!" – that's when I was out to buy Mrs Stavrakis some coffee. Anyway, she assures me she has backed me up to Mr Gryparis by explaining to him the reason for my absence.

"Nevertheless, the fact that yesterday you worked overtime till 8:00 o'clock (because of Parissis' demands) doesn't excuse your coming late to work!" she adds stern.

"But I never come later than the others!" I retort.

After an hour or so Mrs Stavrakis appears again and tells me that "Parissis is talking about you all the time! She is furious at you! She is always accusing you of everything! She is even claiming you have refused to type some entries about ''Christianity'' for her!"

"But... she hasn't given me any entries lately!" I protest.

"She has them in her hands and says she gave them to you but you brought them back untyped and left them on her desk without telling her anything!"

"That's a lie!" I insist.

All those who hear the story show me their understanding, although some times they seem to be enigmatic: "Parissis is not bad! She just needs some politeness!" says Rita, a serious and kind colleague with whom I get along quite well. I don't know what's going on in my workplace anymore, but I don't like the atmosphere around me; something is very, very wrong...

Wednesday, 14th May 1997

Lucid Dream: I am in a strange funfair whose buildings remind of famous churches such as San Marco of Venice, Saint Basil of Moscow etc. I fly into a church of Gothic style; it is very beautiful, with impressive icons and carved pews, and it is all decorated with white roses. I make the sign of the cross, then I fly out. I look back, I admire the church again, I feel nice. Finally, I shut my eyes, I change the dream into a meditation exercise and ask for the one and only truth. Right then, I feel as though I were carried away violently; fear stops me for a moment but what follows is a...

Psychic Experience: All at once I come out of my physical body. I can feel a kind of airstream penetrating my body; in the beginning it fills me up, then I feel as if I were torn apart - it is an ecstatic sensation. Then I fall into very deep hypnosis, I black out, I feel my heart stopping, I cause a hasty awakening...

Friday, 23rd May 1997

Helen Tandoulou has invited me to a birthday party tonight. Her old friend, Clair, turns 26 today and she is having a celebration. So, at 8:00 o' clock in the evening all three of us -Helen, her brother and I- arrive at Clair's two-storeyed house in Kalamaki. My friend is holding three (counted!) roses in her hands as a present. "Don't mind about bringing a present. I will see to it!" she had reassured me when we talked on the phone earlier in the afternoon.

At first sight, what impresses me most is the luxury of the place: The neoclassical building is well-preserved and it has a small flowery garden. Inside, the atmosphere is cozy, friendly, decent – nothing like other stupid celebrations I have been to so far, where everyone put on airs and looked at me askance. Almost immediately we start chatting with two unknown girls and then we get to know some other people.

There follow unprecedented experiences to me: I have pleasant conversations with many lively persons, without seeing in them the suspicion and contempt I usually confront when I am in other circles of people. Even that retard of Vlassis doesn't seem to be such a misfit here: He is smiling and talking freely maybe because, in this large and well-disposed party, his sister's despotic presence can't upstage him.

Before long I notice George, Clair's gorgeous brother. He is 31 years old, tall, with a trained lean body and an attractive face; he has blond hair and brown eyes. He looks calm, balanced, intellectual -entirely different to the men I've met so far. He is an undergraduate of medicine school, confident of himself but not arrogant. Moreover, he shows his interest in me, he makes a kind compliment about my appearance, he accosts me without getting pushy, ridiculous or vulgar. "What counts most in a relationship is that mates inspire each other," he says at a moment. I feel wonderful as I respond spontaneously to this mutual love attraction; it's something I've never experienced before.

Later we join the others and we all continue chatting and having fun till 2:00 after midnight. We get along very well and we finally agree to meet tomorrow. I suggest we arrange where and when right away, but the others prefer to do that on the phone next morning. I don't insist, nor does George do anything to push things; he probably doesn't want to show impatience.

There comes the time for me to leave, together with Helen and Vlassis, and I still haven't exchanged telephone numbers with George. In two words, I rely on my friend to act as a go-between and arrange the meeting with our new friends. I bid farewell to George with a warm handshake, reminding him that "We'll talk again tomorrow". When I leave the house, I feel upset but happy. Maybe this is the night that could change my life, I ponder.

Saturday, 24th May 1997

All morning I've been waiting impatiently for Helen to call me. She does phone me at about noon and after a meaningless prologue of twenty minutes, she cheerfully suggests we meet in Kolonaki, right away, in broad daylight – that is, she and I together, just the two of us, without George or anyone else from yesterday's party! As she explains then, she hasn't been able to find him or his sister on the phone.

According to what she says, none of the friendly people we met yesterday has communicated with her up to now: "As far as I've heard, he has a girlfriend in Patras, where he studies medicine," Helen says cheerfully, as we walk down Kolonaki Square. "Anyway, what is a would-be doctor good for? You should wait for him to finish his studies, and that could take ages! Like an old friend of mine, who had an affair with a medicine student, she waited for him to take his diploma, she even helped him financially to open his surgery, and in the end he dumped her! So, what did you expect? It's a fortunate thing that he hasn't called!" she concludes with a shrieking voice and her usual air of importance.

It occurs to me that maybe Helen is lying and sabotaged my meeting with George, yet I prefer to suppress this suspicion quickly. Anyway, there is no proof about that, besides I can't imagine she could be so mean. "I have no reason to lie to you," she assures me, as if she could read my mind. "Besides, I don't fancy that guy, I don't want him for myself!" she says. I know this is true, because Helen never shows the slightest interest in men, not even platonic. Whenever I confide in her I like some stranger on the road, she says scornfully: "Only silly women fancy such men!"

Therefore, there is nothing else to do; I can only accept the situation passively, as something I actually expected. "It was too good to be true," my mother will admit later, when I explain to her the whole story. And life (?) goes on...

The past is an invaluable treasure

well hidden in the creases of time.

A treasure which sparkles weaker and weaker

as time goes by and I sink fast into the night

deeper and deeper into the night...

Chapter 35: Fateful Summer

Thursday, 5th June 1997

When you are poor, you had better lie low. Any investment you venture, will prove to be wrong because right investments are costly. Besides, when you are poor -that is away from powerful networks- you lack knowledge for a truly profitable enterprise. "Luck helps the bold," they say. That's a lie. Luck helps the rich. Those who are poor and bold inevitably make bad investments and eventually lose their money. For example, cheap plots of land are seldom included in the town planning zone. If you build something there, it will probably be small, miserable and illegal. Moreover, it will prove to be a money pit.

To be more precise: That 360 m2 plot I bought five years ago in Kypseli, on the island of Aegina, seemed to be a good opportunity then: It cost only 800,000 drachmas and it was inside the town planning zone. A few months ago, however, just one day before I had a building permit issued, my plot was suddenly declared to be outside the town planning zone – only this and the two adjacent ones from the whole territory, because they are part of an archaeological site, as we were told!

Nevertheless, my father has set his mind on building a cabin there, even without a permit! For this reason, he goes to Aegina every weekend and works from dawn till dusk, while he is always asking me to give him various sums of money (10,000 to 50,000 drachmas) for the expenses of the cottage under construction. This time he wants to buy water pipes and he has asked me for 100,000 drachmas – that is all the extra money I happened to earn last month from freelance typing!

... And something I have ascertained many times in the past: I have the impression there is an invisible force which prohibits me from earning even one cent more than the "allowed" to me basic salary of 160,000 drachmas per month! I'd say there is a mysterious factor which defines the exact amount of money that corresponds to each human being, in mathematical accuracy. No matter what you do, it is impossible to accumulate more money than the "allowed" sum: If the preordained amount is, let's say, 160,000 drachmas per month, and you somehow manage to earn 200,000 drachmas once, it is certain you will not enjoy that extra 40,000 by buying something you desire; you are much more likely to waste it on doctors, plumbers, electricians, or even thieves!

It goes without saying that the preordained sum of money differs from person to person. For some people it is no higher that 160,000 drachmas, for others it is 500,000, for others it is 2,000,000 per month! Or, as the proverb says: "Work as much as you like and God will give you as much as he likes."

Friday, 13th June 1997

This evening I went to a cafeteria in Glyfada, together with Helen Tanagra. I was bored to death, like every time I go out with Helen. Taking into account tomorrow afternoon we two, as well as Xanthippe, are leaving for a three-day trip to Peloponnese, I hoped certain things would be settled during this outing. I explained to Helen that this morning I went to the travel agency and paid off for all three of us. She didn't give me any money but I imagine she will give it to me tomorrow, like Xanthippe will. Anyway, I wonder how her conservative parents finally allowed Helen to be absent from home for three whole days. They usually forbid her to stay out later than midnight...

Saturday, 14th June 1997

The time is 1:30 pm and I am getting ready to leave for a three-day trip to South Peloponnese, together with my friends Helen and Xanthippe. The coach departs at 3:00 pm from Athens. All of a sudden, the phone rings. It is Helen who announces in earnest that she won't be able to come with us, because she has just been hired as an assistant in a microbiological lab (!) and the boss wants to see her at 2:30, she says.

I can hardly believe my ears! I remind her that unless she comes, I will have to shoulder the 24,000 drachmas of her share! "No way! They will give you the money back!" she exclaims, although we both know that no money is reimbursed for cancellations of the last moment. I explain to her the situation once again, yet Helen makes clear she has no intention of paying for a trip she isn't going on – which means I will have to pay double for my share! Moreover, my good friend coerces me into assuring her I will take the money back no matter what.

"I hope so, because all this makes me sad," she says in a plaintive voice. "But tell me, Yvonne, do such things happen to you all the time, I mean your friends cancelling an arranged trip at the last moment?"

"This is what always happens!" I reply bitterly.

"Where do you find each one of them?" my mother wonders, as soon as I tell her the particulars of the story...

Sunday, 15th June 1997

Our morning visit to the Diros Caves proved to be very interesting: It consisted of a 30-minute boat ride and a 15-minute walk to the exit. It was a unique experience, that underground river which splits up into numerous passageways and underground cavities full of impressive stalagmites and stalactites that glitter in shading-off tints. As our rower led us through the stunningly enchanting halls of the cave, such as the Crossroads of Nymphs, the Lake of Exotic Ocean Creatures, the Sea of Shipwrecks complete with a sunken wreck, the Pink Chamber, the White Chamber and the wonderful Red Chamber, the rare beauty of the place took our breath away. Everything would be perfect if...

Xanthippe and I were lucky enough to occupy the first two seats of the boat and we enjoyed a panoramic view. However, right behind me there was an old crock who kept on shooting everything with a camera in hand (although it is forbidden), while drivelling incessantly with his piercing, exasperating voice. It was one of those psychotic, arrogant people who always want to be noticed no matter what. At a moment Xanthippe asked him politely not to talk so loudly because there was danger of landslide, the signs say so too. The rower agreed and the old crock shut up for a few seconds. Then he resumed the garrulity, even worse than before.

There were about ten boats floating around us, each containing 8-10 persons. Not a sound was heard from any of them. All visitors were speechless before the amazing beauty of the cave – all but the senile old man behind me, who kept on trying to be clever with a rather ridiculous demonstration of knowledge. I had to apply enormous self-control so as to ignore the imbecile behind me, suppress my exasperation and enjoy the fascinating landscape. I was determined not to let a subhuman spoil that unique experience of mine -and I made it.

In the afternoon we went to Monemvasia: It is a picturesque, medieval town built on a small island on the southeast coast of Peloponnese and it is linked to the mainland with a 200-metre long road. Old stone houses, narrow alleys, a ruined castle, emotive atmosphere. Yet, I didn't have much fun because Xanthippe wasn't in a mood of walking or exploring the place. So, we spent all our time in an outdoor cafeteria which didn't even have a nice view...

Monday, 16th June 1997

In the morning we visited Mystras, the medieval city which is situated on Mount Taygetos and it used to be the capital of the Byzantine Despotate of Morea. Xanthippe didn't follow the group; she stayed in the coach because "this is going to be extremely tiring" she said.

The path proved to be too rough and I had a lot of difficulty in going up the slope, so I imagined going down would be impossible for me. When we finally reached the top, I asked a young woman from the group to help me come down but she got away at once, together with the others. Since I was left all alone, I had no alternative but look for another path; soon I found out one which was wide, smooth and well-built, and led me to all the interesting old churches and edifices ‒ sights the others didn't have the chance to see.

Later we visited the town of Tolo, a nice tourist resort full of seaside tavernas. I went swimming alone because Xanthippe refused to get into the water. "It is full of bubbles! I am not swimming in here!" she declared with a frown.

Early in the afternoon we arrived in the seaport city of Nafplio, where we went for a walk. The city is nice, full of neoclassical buildings. Xanthippe dragged herself along, always sprinkling her head with a bottle of water, constantly complaining she were going to have a sunstroke. She got on my nerves! I advised her to go back to the coach, since she is so delicate, but she wouldn't get off my back, constantly grumbling about everything.

Then we stopped at the ancient theatre of Epidaurus, then at the Isthmus of Corinth. Everybody in the group was exhausted and complaining. They were not all wrong; the itinerary was too long, with too many stops, yet I didn't consider it bad. We arrived in Athens at 8:30 in the evening.

Wednesday, 18th June 1997

Night Adventure: I am in a big church, full of fine icons. To my astonishment and horror, the depicted saints gradually change into demons. "Where are you, Christ? Christ?" I cry in despair but I get no answer. I wake up with a start and I wonder...۩

What is going on? The sonic war against me is getting more and more unbearable day by day and I just can't stand it any more! For some strange reason, I am surrounded by all kinds of noise pollution: Every morning, at 7:30 am, my father gets out to the yard and keeps himself busy with meaningless tinkering and hammering at pieces of wood or metal for hours! When I return from work at 4:00 in the afternoon and lie in bed so as to have a brief nap, dad goes upstairs, to Alice's half-built penthouse, and starts hammering at stuff again till 5:30 that I leave for the gym! He doesn't really repair anything, he just enjoys the noise! The yard and the penthouse are full of rusty tools, old dilapidated furniture and all kinds of junk dad finds on the road and carries home! I often complain about the noise and the piggery but he never listens; on the contrary, he swears like a trooper!

In addition, the guy who lives right next to me, Mr Takis Zarifis, listens to loud music from 5:00 pm to midnight every day -as if he were paid for that! He sometimes plays that horrible electric guitar too! Luckily, I am away from home for most of the day, otherwise I would have gone crazy!

It goes without saying that all the other kinds of abnormal noise are still here: The black dog in the yard across the street barks hysterically, incessantly, all day and all night long; the family on the second floor of the block of flats next to us still throws parties two or three days a week and they keep me awake till 3:00 am; uncountable cars come and go in their outdoor garage, right under my window, their drivers revving up the engines for hours, especially during the night; all afternoon, every afternoon, five or six motorbikes go round in circles outside the new block of flats at the opposite side of the street and their drivers never stop screaming and giggling like lunatics.

And the greatest mystery: Going on long bike rides almost every evening, I see lots of neighbourhoods from Helioupolis to Voula. Nowhere else have I noticed the abnormal hustle and bustle which takes place around my house every day! I am sure there is no other street so noisy as mine, in the entire city of Athens! Therefore, I have come to believe I don't progress in metaphysics anymore for the same reason I don't progress in any other field of life: I live in an extremely negative environment.

I've been thinking seriously about leaving my home and renting another house away from here! I can't go on like this; if this situation continues, I will go mad! In fact, I have just bought a newspaper and looked at the classified ads, hoping to find some cheap apartment. As soon as my mother got wind of it, she nearly had a stroke...

Monday, 23rd June 1997

On occasion of my birthday which was two days ago, this morning I treated my colleagues at work to cupcakes and received various gifts from them: a science fiction book, a neckerchief, an amber breloque. What has impressed me most is a pair of earrings given to me by Mrs Stavrakis; they are made of silver and carved with a variety of odd symbols and ideograms: three dots forming an equilateral triangle; upside-down question marks; five dots inside a circle, which is intersected by a triangle; three triangles whose tops point at the centre of a disc, at the lowest part of the jewel. I like these earrings. They are so original! I'll start wearing them right from tomorrow.

As for the rest: The latest issue of the magazine "Greek Fantasy" came out today and it contains my horror story "Contact with the Netherworld". It seldom happens to me but some days are full of satisfactions...

Sunday, 13th July 1997

Night Adventure: An extraterrestrial spacecraft has arrived on Earth and it burns immense forests to ashes; at the same time a gigantic, plant-like monster walks around and destroy whatever it finds in its way. I run to escape, while the spacecraft follows me hidden inside a cloud. I try to dodge the dangerous light it emits until, suddenly, the alien aircraft glows and I am scared stiff. There opens a small door, an extraterrestrial old woman walks out and says: "We are not really interested in Earth, we only seek spiritual ascension. We are just annihilating this planet..."

Tuesday, 29th July 1997

Night Adventure: Some of my old classmates in Janus have discovered a strange document in an abandoned house. A magic ritual is described on it, which includes walking on a black tape stuck on the floor and leads to another dimension. One by one, my old friends perform the ritual, yet they don't transcend to any other dimension; they only get deformed and they look like zombies now. Two or three of them who aren't deformed, have to fight with the contaminated. They and I haven't walked on that tape and we manage to escape by flying away, towards the sea. We know that water kills the zombies.

One of the uncontaminated guys returns to the house with a view to exterminating the living dead, but soon he is surrounded by his ex good friends -Nestor, Nick, Apostolis and others- who look very ominous now. The young man seeks to escape running along Nereid street, but he is someone else now: I am the man! A plump lady with blond plaits, who resembles my grandma Alice at a young age, appears as a spirit on the sky and declares that "the world of matter is appealing to everybody". So, from now on I will be Yvonne and I have taken refuge in the world of the living, hoping to avoid a dreadful danger which awaits me in the astral plane.

A strange coincidence: My ex friend, Aphrodite, saw a similar dream a few years ago: All the disciples in Janus stood in line and walked on a black tape, one by one. She knew that was dangerous and shouted to them "Don't follow this line!". Yet, next moment she stepped on the black tape too...

* * * *

Saturday, 2nd August 1997

This morning we departed for the island of Zakynthos, on a trip organized by a travel agency. It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at our hotel at Kryoneri: I sighed in disappointment as soon as I found out how small, noisy, isolated and miserable it is ‒ nothing to do with the hotel we had seen on the leaflet. It is supposed to be a second class hotel -we paid that much too- but it is hardly fifth class. I already feel exasperated, as I am also in bad company: Helen Tandoulou and her retarded brother. Needless to say, I am staying in my own single room. As soon as I accommodate myself, I sit down and wonder: What am I doing here with these two nitwits?

Monday, 4th August 1997

Days pass by, without much fun: We have already visited the church of Saint Mavra and enjoyed swimming in Alykes. We have admired the panoramic view of the city of Zakynthos from the hill of Bochali, and swum in the wild waves of Tsilivi. As for the rest, we spend our afternoons strolling around the city, which proves to be not so exciting. Besides, my friend Helen is not so talkative as she used to be; in fact, I can barely screw a word out of her. She usually opens her mouth only to belittle me with offensive remarks such as "I have all the ideas, I am clever, whereas you can't think of anything, you are brainless!"

Just like last year, every time we go on a tour Helen always demands to sit by the window, otherwise she gets dizzy, she says. However, this year her window pane happens to be entirely opaque, therefore she can see nothing outside -it serves her right! I have also noticed certain misfortunes dogging me: I have been to the cobbler's twice and my new watch has stopped. "You have been jinxed!" says Helen and she could be right...

Tuesday, 5th August 1997

This morning we went on an boat ride around the island: Picturesque caverns with blue, crystal waters; white arched rocks looming over emerald waves; swimming in the open sea near the Cave of Keri. And, the high spot of the tour, our stop at Navagio (the Shipwreck): Without the slightest compunction, I left behind the two undecided grumblers who happen to be my companions in this trip and dived into the clear blue water from the deck of the boat. The sea was as cold as ice but I enjoyed every moment to the fullest as I swam out, to the isolated strand. I walked on the white sand, I admired the high blond cliffs surrounding the beach, I passed by the old shipwreck which has been rusting under the sun for decades now. As about my "friends", after half an hour or so I found them observing the blackened tub – Helen with a surly face, as usual, Vlassis lost in space, as always. I greeted them coldly and I went on exploring the place.

In the evening the three of us went to the outdoor restaurant "Meltem" at the coast of Kryoneri: Pleasant ambiance with ancient-like decoration, lofty trees with thick leafage, idyllic serenity, sea waves crashing on the low cliffs nearby.

Once again I intend to relish the beauty of every moment, entirely ignoring my friend's sarcastic remarks: "Certain people think they are aristocrats, just because they live in Glyfada, whereas they are nothing but gypsies!" How can she be so malicious, just like that, without any reason whatsoever? I only wonder. Then we start talking about our jobs and I dare mention that when I worked as a secretary for Zafirakis, I also translated texts from/to English or Italian for him. Helen frowns at once and says:

"Listen, Yvonne, don't say such things, because people make fun of you! How could you translate anything, since you don't have a respective university degree?"

"I used to translate texts about wining machines. This kind of terminology isn't taught in any school, you learn it while working," I explain as calm as possible.

"Oh, let me be, I see how good your translations were!"

"Don't you think you've gone too far?" I start to lose my temper. "I'm sick and tired of your slighting and insulting me all the time!"

"Who, me? When did I insult you, Yvonne? What are you talking about, are you crazy?" Helen protests and looks at me aghast, as if she couldn't understand what I was saying.

"Don't you always tell me I am stupid, whereas you are the smart one who has all the ideas? Don't you always trumpet forth I should be jobless because I don't have a university degree? What diplomas do you have, anyway?" I retort.

"I never said I have diplomas! But maybe I do have some and you know nothing about it!" she answers with an air of importance.

"Maybe I have lots of university degrees too! You don't know anything about me!"

"I've never expected such behaviour from you, Yvonne! As far as I can see, there can be a lot of envy and spite between friends!"

"That's for sure! I've known that right from the beginning!" I talk back.

The golden full moon is mirrored in the smooth sea beside us. The summer night is serene, the surrounding environment is enchanting. I would like to experience the magic of the moment in a different way, yet Helen seems to be enjoying more the fight than the landscape. "I like it so much, when I hear you two fighting like a dog and a cat!" says then Vlassis, who has been silent so far. Next moment, he stands up and goes away, leaving the two of us alone. Time for the second round:

"Really now, Yvonne," Helen goes on pompously. "Where is your supposed social life? You always tell me about your numerous friends, but it's me you go out with every Thursday and Saturday, it's me you go on vacations with in August. Why isn't anyone else coming with you, can you tell me?"

"This isn't true!" I hurry to rebut the new accusations. "I do have many friends and and I often go out with them. But why not stop it now? This conversation leads nowhere! Maybe... maybe it was just a misunderstanding," I begin to recede, rather foolishly, hoping to save the rest of the trip, while Helen's face glows in triumph:

"Oh, no, Yvonne, I can' take that; I don't like it when someone abuses me and then, when they see they can't prevail, they ask for an apology!"

Preferring not to add fuel to the fire, I stay taciturn (always foolishly), while Helen continues undaunted: "By the way, do you know what kind of impression you make, Yvonne? I can't imagine what has happened in your life so far, but you give the impression of being very disappointed and fed up with everything! That's why you neither take photographs nor phone your family when you are on holidays! You don't hope for anything, that's why you always seek to experience the moment, as you say!"

She isn't wrong about that, I must admit. Before answering anything, I am about to pour some beer in my glass.

"And don't drink anymore! You are probably drunk, that's why you don't know what you are talking about!" she hisses and at that moment I abhor her. What she means is I am an alcoholic just because I usually drink a beer with my dinner! Aren't they horrible, these churchy hens!

At that point I think the fight is almost over, but the big bomb hasn't fallen yet: "Regarding that guy we met then, at my friend's party, why should I have helped you, Yvonne? Who has ever helped me?"

I can't believe my ears! Helen has just admitted, quite proudly I'd say, she has actually sabotaged my starting an affair with George!

"So, this is how things are," I reply bitterly yet calmly. "You are right, after all! I am a fool and I am to blame for everything! But this is gonna change, you know! All mistakes will be corrected very soon in the best possible way, you will see!" I conclude and it is Helen's turn to shut up.

Wednesday, 6th August 1997

Early in the morning we visited the Museum of Solomos, then the cathedral of Saint Dionysios. Finally, we went swimming to Porto Roma. I can no longer enjoy the trip because I always have that nincompoop of Helen in tow. Yet, I have also noticed something about her brother: Any time he manages to escape Helen's reproachful look, he automatically becomes more lively, more cheerful, more intelligent! I've come to suspect the guy is not really retarded, he is just weak-willed because Helen has turned him into a scrub with her hysteria and her successive psychic attacks. He probably acts the fool so that the vixen leaves him alone.

In the evening the three of us went to a romantic, seaside bar in Kryoneri. Helen kept trying to patch up things by repeating her insults: "As I was saying, Yvonne, you shouldn't tell the others those things you often say, that you used to translate texts for example, because nobody believes you! Neither do I tell anyone such things!" Why do I always get involved with wicked and abnormal persons? Why?

Thursday, 7th August 1997

We are on a day trip to Cefallonia, together with the rest of the tourist group. Vlassis didn't wish to join us this time and I can fully understand him. "All things considered, your brother is very clever! He knows very well what he is doing!" I say to Helen, now that I have begun to look down on her and drop hints such as: "So, you are the smart one and you have all the ideas! Just wait and see what ideas I have! You will know soon!" or, even: "Let's do some mathematics: On the entire island of Zakynthos there must be about 2,000 coaches now; each one of them has twenty windows; 2,000 coaches x 20 windows each, makes a total of 40,000 windows! Out of these 40,000 windows only one is completely opaque and you are sitting by it!"

On the ferry boat to Cefallonia we get to know Peter, an attractive 26-year-old guy from our group. He has come with his parents, he looks a little peculiar and squeamish, he never swims, but he seems to be a nice and reasonable person. He has a sweet face with light brown hair and big green eyes. He has a trained body and he is quite good-looking, though a little short. I clearly show him I like him, but he seems to be more interested in Helen. The same as usual...

"You must be a lot older than me!" Helen tells me at a moment, with an ironic smile.

"Really? Would you like both of us to stand in front of a mirror, so that you can see who is older?" I retort confidently and she shuts up.

The tour of Cefallonia proves to be very interesting: First we walk through the Cave of Drogarati, which is full of impressive limestone formations. Then, we take a boat ride in the Cave of Melissani: the B-shaped underground lake consists of two water halls with blackish waters and a small rocky island in the middle. There is a big oval opening on the roof of the first hall, which allows the sunlight to come in. The boats seem to hover on an eerie blue light, it is a magical experience.

Later, we go swimming at a pebbly beach in Saint Efimia; finally we arrive in Argostoli and, last but not least, we visit the famous church of Saint Gerasimos. I enjoy the trip to the fullest, without paying any attention to Helen's continuing digs at me...

Saturday, 9th August 1997

This is our last morning in Zakynthos and I relish a lonely walk along the promenade, without having the nitwits in tow. Everything around me looks fantastic: The bright sun, the blue sea waves, the cliffs, the soft breeze, the seaside empty bars.

Helen's last words as soon as we arrive in Athens, late in the evening:

"How do you feel now that you won't see me again?"

"I'm deeply moved!" I reply ironically.

"Give me a call!" she says, before we split -for ever.

"Sure, I will..."

* * * *

Thursday, 21st August 1997

The time is 6:00 in the afternoon and I am leaving home, aiming to meet Persephone at the corner of the streets Gennimata and Athanatou. After lots of negotiations (although she is quite wealthy, my friend complained a lot about the price of the trip), we have arranged to go on an organized tour to Parga. The group leaves the day after tomorrow, therefore Persa and I must go to the travel agency in Athens today, so as to pay off the trip.

Having just walked past the corner of Meteoron street, I go down Gennimata avenue full of excitement. I can already discern my friend waiting for me in the distance. All of a sudden, a motorbike passes right beside me, as fast as lightning, and its skinny driver grabs the bag off my shoulder! The youngster -he looks quite familiar- turns his head back, he smiles to me ironically and disappears speeding along the avenue! He even defies a police car which happens to be parked a little further. It takes me a few seconds to realize what has just happened; at first, it thought it was just a joke!

As soon as I realize the situation, I return home in a frantic condition: I have lost not only my beautiful English bag, but 65,000 drachmas as well! Once again, outside the block of flats opposite my house, five or six bums are ululating continuously, going around in circles on their motorbikes. "Has anyone just left here on a motorbike?" I ask loudly, pointing at the trumps with my finger. Nobody knows, nobody noticed. Not even my parents who are sitting in the veranda, or aunts Hermione and Penelope who have come to visit them.

Yet, the more I think about it, the more certain I am the thief is one of the bums on the motorcycles. I don't hesitate to shout loudly "My bag has been stolen and the thief is one of them!"; nobody answers me but the motorbikes go away one by one, until none is left. They are never going to be seen in the neighbourhood again. Never ever...

Right after, I go and meet Persa, who is still waiting at the junction of the streets Gennimata and Athanatou. I explain to her what has happened, she is dumbfounded but she claims not to have seen any youngster on a motorcycle passing by her with a woman's bag in hand. For a moment I wonder because I'm sure the guy drove past her, but I can't say anything; she probably wasn't observant enough.

Finally, the two of us go to the police and inform them about the robbery. I am faced with the absolute indifference and incapability of the policemen who, while on duty, wear slippers and casual clothes. The sergeant is dressed in a fine suit, he has black glasses on and he is all airs and graces. There is nowhere a computer but there is a television in every room, so that the minions of the law don't lose their favourite serials.

Anyway, the incident mentioned above won't discourage me from going to Parga. On the contrary, I dig my heels in and decide not to allow any misfortune deprive me of the joy of travelling – even if this means I will have to pay double the price of the trip...

Sunday, 24th August 1997

It was late in the afternoon when we finally arrived at our hotel, which is situated on a green slope in the amphitheatrically built village of Lichnos. It is outside the picturesque town of Parga and it has a panoramic view to a blue-green bay. The beach is hardly fifty metres away from the hotel, while the swimming pool is right outside our room. I can say this is the finest hotel I've ever been to.

Later in the evening, Persa and I relished a long walk in the enchanting town. Undoubtedly, Persephone is the most balanced of all my other friends and I do enjoy her company. I think we'll have a nice time together.

Monday, 26th August 1997

In the morning we went on a boat ride along the river Acheron which, in ancient times, was supposed to be one of the five rivers of Hades. As soon as we disembarked on the river bank, our tour guide vanished into thin air together with some Italian tourists. Persephone and I, as well as some others from our group, walked around the fields for a while but it proved to be impossible for us to find the ancient Necromancy Temple. Finally, the guide and the Italians appeared again as soon as we returned to the boat. We hardly saw where they had come from. On the way back, some people dived into the emerald waters of Aphrodite's Cave. Why didn't I dive too?

In the afternoon Persa and I went for a walk in Parga and we visited the relatively well-preserved castle which overlooks the town. We walked along its stone paths, we enjoyed the view from its arched windows, we experienced the nostalgic atmosphere of a lost world. Later, we spent some time at the beach of Lichnos. I swam for an hour or so, while my friend stayed out of the water, reading a book. Persephone never gets into the sea because she doesn't dare show her 140 kilos in a bathing suit. When I got out of the water, we started talking and at a moment I commented on a charming and well-trained young guy who was in the company of a very fat, middle-aged woman. "She certainly pays him!" I assumed.

That was a blunder of mine. Persephone frowned at once, although she tried hard to conceal it: "We must accept ourselves as it is. For instance, I will always be obese no matter what I do and this is never gonna change! However, it is personality that counts most in a human being, not external appearance!" she told me with an air of profundity. I could do nothing but agree with her.

In the evening we went for a nice walk along the promenade of Parga. At a moment Persa stopped by a telephone booth and made two or three phone calls; I stood a little farther and waited for a few minutes, no problem. We walked around for a while and when night fell we sat at a nice cafeteria near the castle, which has a wondrous view of the gulf and the green islet with the chapel. The environment was fascinating, so was the young waiter: handsome, muscular and friendly, he suddenly left his post and sat at our table! He treated us to fruit punch and entered into conversation with us at once; nevertheless, it didn't take me long to realize I was methodically excluded from the discussion, as the young man soon began to ignore me completely and dally with Persa! As time passed, he seemed to be more and more enchanted by my friend's personality, while I was like non-existent. In other words: A gorgeous young man, no older than 22, suddenly fell in love with Persephone (1.55 m tall, 140 kilos) and for her he forgot all about work, customers and boss!

The two of them bantered cheerfully for more than an hour, pretending I was not present. There were some satanic coincidences too: I was astonished to listen that the young lady killer lives in Glyfada during the winter, hardly 100 metres away from Persa's house! Finally, they exchanged telephone numbers and promises for a future meeting. As about me, I was shrunk in my chair embarrassed, confused, speechless, with a dominant feeling of humiliation.

When we left the cafeteria at last, my head was spinning. I couldn't think clearly, while I was feeling awful. Next to me, Persephone strutted in triumph:

"Am I not very lucky? Think about it, the guy lives in Gortynias street, not at all far from my house! I will certainly call him!"

"He could as well live in Athonos street, right next to you!" I replied, as my mind was already starting to work differently, despite my splitting headache.

Tuesday, 27th August 1997

This morning we went on a day trip to the islands of Paxi and Antipaxi. White sand, clear turquoise waters, exotic strands, picturesque green hills all around. Yet, Persa had a hard time: She neither swam in the azure sea of Antipaxi (she just sat at a seaside bar, while I was swimming and relishing the wonderful landscape), nor went for a walk in the town of Paxi (she only waited for me in the restaurant, while I was exploring the place).

On the way back, I found a shady corner in the ferry boat but Persephone insisted on standing alone under the hot sun all those hours, so she was roasted like a sausage and then she grumbled till late at night: "That was exactly what I wanted to avoid, the sand, the sun, the hardship!"

That served her right! When someone is miserable by nature, no clique, no network can give them the joy they are incapable of feeling...

Wednesday, 28th August 1997

This is our last morning in the hotel and I am spending it in the swimming pool ‒ the perfect antidote to the heat of the summer. As usual, Persephone is waiting for me outside and she is green with jealousy! Yeah, sweet revenge!

By the time I arrive home late in the evening, I have finally cleared out my thoughts and reached astonishing conclusions: Networks take action right before my eyes! Yet, to whom can I say this and be believed? If such things happen to you all the time and you have no idea about the existence of networks, you just go crazy!

Undoubtedly, those were the most revealing holidays of my life, as everything seems to be very clear now: Persephone was personally insulted when I said that a fat woman can't normally have an affair with a young and handsome man unless she pays him, so she decided to give me a lesson. A few phone calls, contact with the network, and the performance was put up, quickly and easily! Certainly, the young waiter in that cafeteria in Parga was a member of the "family!"

As about the theft of my bag at the given place and time, it was no coincidence at all! The robber knew exactly when I was coming out with 65,000 drachmas in my bag, so he appeared out of nowhere and robbed me, just a few steps away from my house! As about the money, it was surely received by Persa! That's why neither she nor the policemen noticed the bum who drove past then on his motorbike, with a woman's bag in hand! Besides, why didn't the robber turn into another street before reaching the perilous spot where the police car was? Of course! Persephone is such a miser, she would never give 65,000 drachmas for a five-day trip! The funniest thing is I considered her to be the most balanced of all my friends! Yet, she has proved to be very dangerous...

From now on, I had better be a lot more careful: I should conceal not only my ideas but my moves as well. It is imperative to tell lies to everybody, since I can never know who belongs where! As about Persephone, I won't be meeting her so often from now on and I will be telling her tons of lies. The less she knows about me, the better it is.

Networks are excellently organized nowadays and each one of them consists of thousands or, even, millions of people all over the world! In all probability, every citizen who belongs to the middle class or higher, is a member of some network. What ''middle class''? In the so-called civilized societies, the really poor are a minority! Maybe it is natural for human beings to form networks or cliques, so that wealth and power always remain within certain circles of people. Networks have existed since antiquity. Once they included only the elite, but nowadays they have spread even to lower social classes. Families who don't belong to a network or clique, are gradually driven out of society and they don't survive for long.

As about all those "dance schools", "clubs", "gyms", "art schools", "occult centres", "religious organizations", "political factions" and so on, where all decent citizens gather nowadays, are nothing but shop-windows for networks and they mostly serve as points of recruitment of new members. What is taught in those places is unimportant, as it is usually entirely useless outside the rooms of the "school". What really counts in there is "talent": the talent to be a herd animal.

That's why all my endeavours end in a flop.

That's why it is almost impossible for me to find new friends.

That's why men are never interested in me.

That's why wherever I go (workplaces, schools, gyms, clubs, etc), I'm eventually kicked out.

That's why in the taekwondo school I am treated as if I had scabies! Who knows what really binds them all – and it certainly isn't their passion for taekwondo!

That's why wherever I've worked so far, I've always been at the lowest position and paid the lowest possible salary.

That's why whatever I do is never considered to be good enough; no matter how hard I try, the result never satisfies the others. For some hitherto inexplicable reason, I've always been deemed insufficient, thus unworthy of living.

All things considered, I am not unlucky; I am a fool -Helen Tandoulou is right! All my life, up to now, I have always ignored the most important rule of survival: Do not trust anybody! Actually, I have been quite lucky so far, taking into account my credulity towards the others and my tendency to reveal a lot about myself, begging for some approval.

It is clear to me now that many accidents (mortal or not) are not accidents at all! They are crimes, well organized and legal crimes! Any time an "outsider" dares challenge an "insider", the former is punished immediately! Likewise, if someone from the "family" refuses to accomplish a mission, he is toast!

The price of knowledge: Thanks to Persephone I have just understood the basic function of human society, and that is networks. Of course, I have to do with a dangerous person, and I must be very careful with her from now on. However, if I had not met her, probably I would have never known how rotten human society is. Persa is a typical example of how a born cypher mysteriously ascends in the social ladder. I've known her ever since she was a child and I can tell; maybe she has forgotten all those times she has attempted to commit suicide but I haven't.

I became suspicious of Persa because of her unnatural obesity: If there was another friend with me in Parga, it wouldn't have occurred to me that the flirt scene in the cafeteria was a put-up job. I wonder: How many people, members of networks, put up such performances in order to create certain impressions or problems to unsuspecting targeted persons? What kind of backstage has been around me all these years? And what else am I going to confront in the future?

The bad thing about the future is that it is coming.

It wouldn't stay where it is.

I wish I could stop time and hold back

the unknown, dark, hostile future...

Chapter 36: Paroxysm

Monday, 7th October 1997

I find it hard to believe I am so lucky! Selene and Victor, just 21 and 24 years old respectively, the two star athletes in our taekwondo class and a well-matched couple for four years now, have just asked me to go out with them! They both excel in taekwondo because of their extreme suppleness. Moreover, Selene has the appearance of a photo-model; in fact, very few models are as duzzling as she is.

We have arranged to meet at the corner of Nereid and Meteoron streets at 8:00 o' clock this evening. So, I am standing here now, waiting for them, full of enthusiasm and impatience. Just think about it: I, a nobody, am about to make friends with two persons who are not only normal, but role models for the normal!

Now the time is 8:10; soon it is 8:20... I get more and more anxious, trying hard to ward off the pessimism which gains ground within me moment by moment. At 8:30 I feel completely disappointed and I am certain the two youngsters have only fooled me, so I return home sad and frustrated. However, as soon as I step in, my mother informs me that Selene has just phoned and that she and Victor are waiting for me at St Tryfon Square! In two words, the diva hasn't got right where our meeting place is...

We finally manage to meet and we reach Glyfada in Victor's car. We sit at a fine cafeteria, we stay there for three hours and we have a fine time, as we won't stop talking for a single moment! Strangely enough, it seems I have a lot in common with these young people. As a matter of fact, they do make me feel happy, as they spontaneously exude the joy of life – in contrast to the rest of my friends, who are boring and constantly depressed...

Saturday, 14th November 1997

I often go out and have a nice time with Selene and Victor -two or three times a week. There are some problems in our relationship, yet I prefer their pleasant company to the gloom of my other friends. "We are more cheerful than them", Selene told me the other day, as she got wind of the situation.

She is certainly not stupid; she is crazy: We rarely go out without her delaying at least 45 minutes or her misunderstanding the meeting place! You tell her to be in Glyfada at 8:00 o' clock and she goes to Voula at 9:00 o' clock! This usually means a lot of trouble for me and Victor, who acts her taxi driver.

This afternoon she invited me to her house; she lives in Pallini, in a beautiful cottage with a tiled roof and a big garden. I was quite surprised to find out she can draw very well, mostly portraits in pencil. To be more precise, she exclusively draws herself; only in one or two pictures Victor appears seen too. She also likes making hagiographies. Selene making hagiographies... doesn't this sound like a joke?

Saturday, 29th November 1997

As time goes by, I get less and less enthusiastic about this new friendship of mine. I just can't stand Selene's stupid delays, her silly misunderstandings, her subtle games of dominance. She is surely a narcissist: She likes flirting all men around her -which drives Victor mad. She also enjoys boasting about successes and abilities she's never had: This evening, when we met, once again she bragged that a few years ago, when she lived in Cyprus, she used to be a reporter and write articles for a big magazine; at the same time, she was also a dancing mistress in a famous dance school, she said. She also trumpets forth she is a taekwondo gold champion in Cyprus. She has also worked as a cinema editor, she says. And all these wondrous feats by the age of twenty-one...

The fact is that nutcase of Selene is constantly surrounded by dozens of friends, who are always very willing to tolerate the diva's whims. They all adore her just because she is who she is. Nobody ever doubts her words, nobody seems to be jealous of her extraordinary successes -real or imaginary ones. On the contrary, they all show pure admiration to her.

This is exactly the opposite to what happens to me: If I ever dare mention the slightest success of mine, everyone will question me, or they will seek to belittle me or they will be green with envy. If I am ten minutes late in an appointment, I get a trouncing. If I happen to pronounce one wrong word which offends anyone anyhow, they just don't talk to me anymore. Of course, don't have Selene's snake-like charm...

Wednesday, 3rd December 1997

Since October Mary Glenos and I have been attending a new school of spiritual development, situated near Omonia Square. It is called "Centre of Applied Philosophy" and its teachings are based on theosophy. Nathan, the guru, is an agreeable guy who just conveys his knowledge without acting the Myst. His theories are quite interesting, well-constructed, though complicated. At least, he doesn't make a fool of us by constantly talking about delayed fees and unworthy disciples. He is also eager to drive all the way from Lamia (where he lives) to Athens every Wednesday, so as to teach us -and he does so without any vested interest: there is no monthly fee; everybody offers as much money as they can.

Theosophists believe in past lives and karma, but they claim that the course of reincarnations is generally ascending: A soul first comes in the vegetable kingdom, then it gets into the animal kingdom, finally it upgrades to the human kingdom. A human being won't be born as a plant or an animal again, unless they commit a very serious mistake -such as?

According to Nathan's teachings, dreams belong to the astral worlds. Every living person has an "astral permanent self", which is the self they assume in their dreams; lucid dreaming presupposes a superior spiritual development and it is encouraged by theosophy. It is even possible that a person's real self is expressed more in dreams than in the material reality: "A man may appear to be a loser in life, yet you never know what he does in his dreams; and what happens in the astral worlds influences the material world we live in," Nathan told us this evening.

Nevertheless, telepathy is considered to be a defect in theosophy: "Those who can tell the future and act as psychics, are as if they had cancer in the astral plane! Telepathy is a serious vice; if someone has it, they had better stifle it" claims Nathan but he doesn't explain why. He also believes that "affection is satanic, a black wizard's work!"

Wednesday, 10th December 1997

However, the parts of theosophy which make me doubt most are those regarding the construction of the human society: "The whole of humanity follows a strict hierarchy, and each person has a very specific position in it" explained Nathan this evening. "Those who have the highest positions are enlightened, non-incarnated entities; these superior beings have completed their circle of reincarnations on earth, and they have experienced all types of mental and physical pain someone can possibly experience in life. This gives them the right to decide about the misfortunes which may afflict a person, a group or a nation, so as to accelerate their spiritual evolution; this is the Plan" ... "These enlightened non-incarnated entities often have to take hard decisions about the fate of mankind: Sometimes they boost evolution by wiping out thousands or millions of human beings; wars, epidemics, natural disasters often serve this purpose" ... "We, lesser minds, should never question the Plan or the decisions of the enlightened minority; nor should we protest when we see thousands or millions of people suffering and dying!"

"Then, maybe we should start killing each other," someone joked.

"But you have no Plan!" retorted the guru.

What if we had one? I thought but passed it in silence.

"Taking into account that a soul is not vanquished by death, why would it matter if -for example- two billions of people died of some epidemic?" went on the guru. "Something like this is due to happen quite soon, and when it happens we should consider it a real blessing! Sometimes a reform of mankind is needed!" he wound up, and none of the disciples -educated adults, all of them- put forward any objections.

Wednesday, 17th December 1997

This evening there were some more revelations in class: "Very soon a New World Order will be established all over the globe, that is a regime of electronic surveillance which will include the whole of humanity" .... "All people will be constantly watched and controlled by a universal network of cameras, satellites and computers" ... "Many dislike the idea of a kind of Big Brother controlling their lives; this is immature and selfish of them" ... "Moreover, cloning and gene manipulation will allow the creation of new, hitherto unknown lifeforms; in this way, certain kinds of entities which can't normally appear on earth, will then be able to come and live here, amongst us", says the guru complacently. What kind of demons are expected to come into this world? I wonder.

That was definitely the last time I attended a lesson at the "Centre of Applied Philosophy". Even Mary, who is generally well-disposed towards everybody and everything, has finally acknowledged that "these people are satanists".

On the other hand, Nathan knows very well what he is talking about: The Plan is certainly on its way to realization; the New World Order will only take a few more years to come into full effect. Those who will be deemed incompetent or unsuitable for the Wondrous New World, will be eliminated from the face of the earth. It is as simple as that...

Monday, 22nd December 1997

Two days ago my sister's two parrots were found dead in their cage – just like that, with no reason whatsoever. It struck me as a sign of fate but I dismissed the thought at once.

This morning we found out that Josef, my 8-year-old nephew, suffers from osteochondritis. This is what his recent medical tests show, and it means that a certain microbe has been eating up his left thighbone, at the gristle of the joint to the pelvis, which makes him limp more and more. The doctor says it is curable but he will have to stay in bed with the leg bandaged for two years and, if he is lucky, he won't have to undergo an operation and have metal implants attached to his thighbone. I just can't help wondering: Why can't anything good ever happen to our family?

As for the rest: Radical changes have been taking place at work for some months now: In fact, the once mighty Pangaea, famous for its quality publications, has been going from bad to worse. Forty employees have already been fired -that is half of the staff. The production department on the 5th floor, where I used to work till recently, no longer exists; the sales department on the 4th floor is history too. At least one employee gets fired every week and I don't where this is going to end.

As about me, I have been transferred to the 3rd floor, where all the bosses and their minions work. To the moment I don't have a problem, everything seems to be quiet here, though somewhat boring. As I am the only typist in the company, I don't run the danger of being suddenly sacked; yet I always feel insecure, maybe because I am always at the bottom of the ladder: as a typist, I am the only person in the company who has to take orders from everyone else. Besides, I haven't taken a raise for five years; I get the lowest salary of all, even the cleaning lady gets more money than me! I have started looking for another job -but how strange: all the jobs I find are worse paid than the one I already have...

* * * *

Thursday, 8th January 1998

Lucid Dream: I feel myself coming out of my body. I fly among old edifices and temples, I go up the white stairway of an old building. Then I fly away but I soon wish to return; however, the building disappears and I feel disappointed. At that moment, the dream becomes lucid. I seek Josef and I find him in a park nearby. I stretch my arms towards him and I say the words: "From now on, your leg will be fine; I remove all negative influences from you". Next moment, the youngster turns his back on me and he goes away. Nevertheless, I repeat the cure three times.

Verification: Pretty soon my nephew's leg gets unexpectedly better and the doctor hopes he will avoid the operation. However, it won't be long till the microbe starts eating up the boy's thighbone again, so he will eventually be admitted to hospital...۩

In another attempt to improve my poor social life, I have recently placed an advertisement in a TV magazine, asking "to correspond with interesting people, who are fond of travel and metaphysics". I have received dozens of letters, but only a few of them were worthy of an answer; amongst them was the one written by the 28-year-old Nineta Mavilis: She seems to be a kind, serious and interesting woman; she lives in New Faliron, she belongs to a wealthy family and she works as a private tutor of English. She seems to be constantly under stress about when she will get married at last, but in overall she is a reasonable and balanced person. I have already introduced her to Helen and Xanthippe, and we all go out together almost every Saturday. Now, with Nineta, we all have more fun when we meet...

Saturday, 10th January 1998

I was standing there, outside the Church of St Constantine in Glyfada, kicking my heels for 45 minutes, waiting for Victor and Selene to turn up. Just as I was getting ready to leave, disappointed and exasperated, I caught a glimpse of my friends looking for me in agony, in Victor's car. Luckily they had seen me before I was gone; they stopped, we kissed and hugged full of joy.

Then Selene, rather irritated, explained to me that Victor hadn't understood where we would meet, that's why he had been following her orders obediently: "Now you will drive all over Glyfada until you find Yvonne! We won't go home unless you find her!" – nevertheless, I had talked to Selene on the phone, not to Victor.

They apologized for the delay, they said they couldn't explain how they got so confused and "it's a paradox, but such things happen only when we plan to to meet you!" concluded Selene. Is it possible that, for some strange reason, such delays and misunderstandings happen only when Selene and Victor intend to see me?

Monday, 26th January 1998

Fear and Pain: After last night, when the fear of pain took over me completely, without my being able to control it anyhow, I think it's time I cleared out the relation between fear and pain.

Having the impression that I was in for a horribly painful experience (aponeurosis) at the dentist's this morning, I was scared out of my wits. Fear enhances pain and vice versa: All night long I felt such a strong clasp in my heart, that I thought I were about to have a heart attack; I also had a terrible headache because I felt completely helpless towards the imminent physical pain. As a matter of fact, mental pain is ridiculous in comparison with physical pain...

However, what made me wonder most was the fact that even when I tried to sort things out within the bounds of reason (neither my friend Mandy, nor my sister Alice felt any pain when they had the nerve of a tooth killed; anyway, I may as well have the tooth pulled out), I wasn't relieved at all. It was as if fear were acting of its own accord, like an entity with a will of its own!

Conclusion: When I went to the dentist this morning, she decided not to kill the nerve of my tooth; she just filled my tooth instead. "We had better try to save it", she explained. My relief was beyond words...

"Nobody escapes what they fear" (folk belief): It seems that somehow pain and fear rule this world. Just like a dog which attacks those who fear it, a misfortune strikes those who fear it. You attract what you fear; you repel what you wish. This is how reality is formed in this world. The dreams that come true are those we've never dreamed of. This means our world is a living hell, and hell is the place where all fears materialize...

Life is the kingdom of pain and fear. Through religion and metaphysics we try to give pain a reason, discover its origin and find ways to deal with it. Therefore, we talk about "a visitation of God", "karma", "lessons of life" etc. The so-called "virtues" we try to cultivate, are just ways to deal with pain. For example, patience is needed when we have painful experiences, otherwise we don't have to be patient; forgiveness presupposes that someone has harmed us, otherwise it has no meaning; compassion is welcome when people suffer, otherwise there is no reason for it, and so on. In the long run, as a final reward for all these virtues, we expect to go to heaven or experience eternal nirvana -which is the final deliverance from all pain- always after death, of course...

Tuesday, 27th January 1998

Feeling the need to go out and have some fun tonight, at about 5:00 o' clock I phoned Selene and suggested we meet in Glyfada this evening. As usual, she put forward certain objections: "I am not sure, I have something else to do, I don't know when I'll finish, if I finish early enough, I will call you, no later than 7:00 o' clock".

I was on tenterhooks for two hours; the time got 7:00, then 7:15... until 7:30 there was no sign from the countess and my impatience and irritation reached a peak. At about 7:40 I decided to phone Helen Tanagra and arranged to go for a coffee with her, at Kalogiron Square. The outing proved to be joyless and boring, just like Helen is. I barely managed to avoid depression.

The crown of my efforts: When I returned home late at night, my mother informed me that at about 8:00 o' clock Selene and Victor came to visit me and they dropped from the clouds when they found out I was not there! "But... we had an appointment!" Selene complained to my mother. I had better watch out: this girl is a lunatic...

Wednesday, 28th January 1998

At about noon Selene calls me at work and asks me the reason why I wasn't at home last night, when she and Victor came to see me. She sounds polite but stern, and I remind her -as calm as possible- that we hadn't made an appointment and that I had waited for her to call me till 7:00 pm -which never happened. "But we had said we would meet for sure, you blockhead! You should have only waited for me to call!" she bursts out, full of impudence.

I dissent strongly from what she says, yet she insists stubbornly and I, for fear of losing this diamond friend, begin to give way and finally admit that maybe it was I who didn't get things right yesterday. Finally, we fix a new appointment for 7:00 this evening.

At 6:05 o' clock Selene phones me at home and says she will be "a little late because something has just come up, so wait for another phone call of mine later. Alright?". Alright...

I sit down and wait -like a fool. The time gets 7:00, 7:30, then 8:00, and I can hardly contain my exasperation. Finally, the diva calls me at 11:00 at night and says she couldn't phone earlier because something very bad happened this evening and she has been down in the dumps ever since.

Nonsense: The lady just played all this trick to me so as to take revenge for yesterday, because she thinks it was I who stood her up! What a horrible person! I must get rid of her as soon as possible...

Friday, 6th February 1998

Night Adventure: Soldiers of evil go around and arrest all those people who are considered to be incapable of serving the system. They throw the prisoners into a kind of incinerator, where they are burnt alive. At a moment I can see them dragging a dark-haired woman down the stairs and I go away because I don't want to see the rest of it happening; yet, I can hear the woman screaming as they throw her into the incinerator, and I cover my ears in horror.

There are some other people near me, waiting for their turn passively. When the soldiers come, they choose me for cremation. I try to explain that I don't belong here, but they won't listen. "I'm not going anywhere," I say then, in a firm voice. Strangely enough, instead of being angry at me they send me to a superior committee for rehabilitation. The four members of the committee are seated on a kind of dais and I reach them by going up a white stairway. They check my "education", they find it insufficient and they put me on probation. Nevertheless, I feel no fear and I take no heed of them.

When the time comes, once again my "education" is found to be insufficient, so I am sentenced to death in the crematory. However, I don't intend to give in without a fight: I run away and manage to escape. Some soldiers are after me, launching a number of round bombs at me; I neutralize them all with the power of my mind -which makes the enemies wonder. However the bombs are still dangerous for the whole planet; I stretch my arms out and express a wish for world peace. Now the bombs are harmless and my pursuers wonder again.

"How can you do this?" one of them asks me.

"I have something you don't have: A clear subconscious. You are driven by fear", I reply calm.

I wake up feeling complete and deeply satisfied. Is there an everyday experience that could ever have the power of this night adventure?

Friday, 20th February 1998

Question: Do our short and joyless lives on earth really serve a purpose?

Answer: With every step we take, we make the rich even richer.

When the Titanic started sinking, those in charge made sure to accommodate the rich first, placing them sparse and comfortable in the lifeboats (only 15 people where 60 could be seated), so that the rich hens wouldn't get any dishevelled. At the same time, they barred all passages from the third class to the deck; as a result, the majority of the poor passengers were trapped in the ship and drowned like mice.

This is exactly what happens in everyday reality: The lives of the poor are considered to be worthless, so they are sacrificed at the first opportunity – as long as this makes the rich sharks richer.

I happen to be in such a position as well: During the day I work hard for a pittance; in the evening I spend my little money in cafeterias, restaurants, hotels, gyms – hoping to relieve myself from the physical and mental hardship I endure while working all day. In other words: During the day I work for a rich scumbag, and during the night I give my beggarly salary to another rich scumbag. This is the real meaning of life for the poor, no matter what they like to imagine...

Sunday, 1st March 1998

Night Adventure: I am somewhere in a block of flats; through a window I can see a giant octopus which has come out from the sea and threatens to invade the building. I take the elevator at once and get down to the entrance, before the monster comes in; I run along Vouliagmenis Avenue but the octopus is after me, devouring everything in its passing, growing continuously. At a moment I think it has lost me, but then I see a gigantic tentacle at the corner of a back street.

Soon I find myself going up a mountain; there are lots of people running to escape or hiding wherever they can. Persephone is with me. The monster is nowhere to see; yet, a strange vehicle appears soon which, as we know, precedes the monster. Persephone throws a lit match at it, the vehicle is blown up. There is no sign of the monster now; but are we out of danger?

Interpretation: The giant octopus could symbolize the mythical demon Cthulhu, "who has been sleeping and dreaming" in the depths of the abyss, until the time comes for it to wake up and rule the world once again...

Tuesday, 3rd March 1998

The serial "Selene - Victor" is still on, but I don't meet them so often any more. They say they have parted, yet they still meet on "friendly terms". Victor hopes to make it up with the diva again, and he is always willing to act her taxi driver: Almost every day he drives all the way to Selene's house in Pallini and he takes her to Glyfada, where she meets her new boyfriend! Poor Victor looks miserable: "I've lost ten years from my life!" he confides to me at a moment.

As about the other guy, his name is Panayotis and Selene met him at the aerobics school she has been attending for a couple of months now. As Selene herself has told me, he is in a mess too because the lady sometimes seems to be infatuated with him, other times she plays hard to get. She often lets him cook his heels outside her house for an hour or two, without her opening the door, but the bloke doesn't split because "I like feeling you are near!" he confesses. "Who gets to know me, gets mad!" says Selene, full of complacence. I guess she is right about that: Even I, who can see through the dirty games of dominance she plays with everybody, desire her company. She is always getting on my nerves but when she phones and asks to meet me, I am on cloud nine.

Just like this evening: I have been sitting and waiting for Selene and Victor to come with food from a fast food restaurant. The two stars were supposed to arrive at 8:00, but now the time is 8:30; soon it gets 8:45, then 9:00. I no longer expect them to turn up when, at about 9:15, the phone rings. It is Selene, she sounds rather gloomy and narrates the following incredible story to me: They went to a fast food restaurant, they bought hamburgers and fried potatoes and they were about to come to me, when the lady decided she definitely had to make a phone call in a telephone booth. Heaven knows how much time she chattered on the phone, while other people were waiting outside – namely a middle-aged couple with a child. At a moment, the man told the lady to get over with it. I guess Selene was rude to him, and before you could say Jack Robinson the two super karatekas put up a bad fight with the middle-aged people! They went at it hammer and tongs, and eventually the two champions got a pasting! Soon there was a big crowd around them booing the two superstars (I wonder why), who tried to knock down the middle-aged folks with their taekwondo acrobatics! To no avail, though: The ''old people'' beat them up!

Thursday, 5th March 1998

When we met at Selene's this afternoon, she and Victor described the above events in more detail. Victor showed me the bruises and scratches he had on his face and neck from the fight; Selene didn't show me any scars; maybe she didn't want to show me anything like that, or maybe her happy boyfriend got all the drubbing.

A little later, we took Liana, Selene's 18-year-old sister, and we went to a nice cafeteria in Varkiza, where we met two friends of hers. We chatted pleasantly for some time until, suddenly, Liana asked me about my age. I found it a little strange, I groused and joked about it, but then I gave a sincere answer.

As the two sisters explained to me later, one of their friends (a serious and good looking guy, only 25 years old) asked Liana to introduce him to me, because he liked me! As about my age, he didn't mind at all, he said. Consider this: Just once I happened to go out with normal people and someone showed an interest in me...

Despite the fact that he is a lot younger than me, I didn't rule out the possibility of getting to know him better. "Anyway, he is quite mature for his age", Selene told me on the phone. "As soon as we hang up, I will make some phone calls and fix certain appointments", she promised in a soft voice. Nevertheless, I'm never to see that guy again...

Friday, 13th March 1998

Selene is throwing a party tonight and I am invited. In the afternoon I go to a gift shop because I want to buy a present for her. After a lot of searching, I finally decide to buy her a lovely music box. I take it in my hands and, I don't know how, it slips off, it falls down and it gets broken! I can't believe my own eyes! Something like this has never happened to me before! Then, the sales woman approaches and says I have to pay for it -naturally...

Anyway, I hasten to choose something else and I go to the cashier's desk, carrying both items in my hands. Fortunately, at the last moment the saleswoman changes her mind and tells the cashier to charge only the second present.

I feel relieved, but I can't take the event off my mind: I can't help considering it a sign of fate, which means that such experiences (making friends with divas and going to their parties) are not for me and that I can get nothing but trouble out of them.

The night comes and the party proves to be a success: There are lots of young people gathered in Selene's living room; Panayotis is present as the diva's boyfriend and Victor as her civilized ex. There are also three guys aged about thirty, who seem to like me, since they have lengthy and pleasant conversations with me. When I find the opportunity, I talk to Selene about them. "They are too young for you", she says enigmatically. Needless to say, I am never to meet any of those people again.

Nevertheless, I must admit Selene is the only one of my friends who: a) has a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, b) introduces me to them, c) invites me to her parties. On the other hand, she makes sure I never gain anything from all this...

Chapter 37: Concord

Tuesday, 17th March 1998

This morning I had an unexpected phone call at work. It was from Mary Skina, who was fired from Pangaea a month ago. Mary is twenty years older than me but she hides her age very carefully. After thirty years of work in Pangaea, she is now unemployed. Moreover, Helen Roussos (Mary's best friend, also recently unemployed) gave her the boot without an explanation. Maybe that's why Mary decided to invite me out to lunch today.

Anyway, I was kinda surprised: During those seven years we've worked together in the same company, I've often asked her to go out with me but she has always refused with various excuses. I thought she didn't like my revolutionary ideas about social networks and the like, because she considered them "negativity", as she said.

After work I met Mary in a nearby restaurant and we had lunch there; then we went for a coffee in Kolonaki. Hours and hours passed very pleasantly, since we two agree a lot and we have many common interests, such as metaphysics and literature. I think Mary is somewhat "different", somewhat non-human, like I am. Probably for this reason her life has been a never ending sequence of misfortunes: Abandonment, solitude, childlessness, premature death of her parents, gradual loss of a big fortune, poverty, unemployment and debts.

Friday, 20th March 1998

At first I didn't like the idea of spending the weekend with cousin Annita, who is pregnant now. Her husband, will be absent for work these days, so she asked me to keep her company while he will be away from home.

Annita is my peer and a typical example of the ordinary person (medium intelligence, no spiritual interests), who sleeps while their good luck works for them. She barely managed to finish high school, and she was referred in all classes. However, she happens to belong to one of the wealthiest families in Cefallonia, so she has never had to work up to now. At the age of 22 she got married to Peter, who is rich enough to provide her with everything she wishes. Consequently, the lady doesn't think because she doesn't have to think.

The only problem in her carefree life has been the absence of a child. She has been married for thirteen years, in the meanwhile she has undergone eleven in vitro fertilizations, and the last one was successful. Now my cousin is pregnant on twin girls and she is in the seventh heaven...

Saturday, 21st March 1998

We spend our time calmly, sometimes boringly, watching TV or chatting about various subjects. However, as soon as I inform Annita that I have lots of friends and that we go out almost every night, she changes her tune:

"Be careful or something nasty will happen to you, if you go on fooling around like this every night! You and your friends might be stalked by perverts, who will rape and kill you!"

"We don't frequent any cheap dives, you know! Besides, we don't go around on foot; my friend Nineta has a car and she takes us wherever we wish," I reply coolly, as I haven't realized yet what she is getting at.

"Really? You know what happened to an acquaintance of mine, one night that she drove along a busy avenue? She was cornered by some drunk men in a car, she was forced to pull over, then she was raped and almost killed!"

"But this is something extreme, I've never heard of anything like that happening in Greece before!" I wonder.

"You have no idea how many such incidents happen every day! It is just a matter of time until something similar happens to you too!" my cousin concludes in an aggressive tone.

Sunday, 22nd March 1998

I have to endure the same tense atmosphere for a third day, as Annita insists on giving me certain advice regarding my future:

"Really, Yvonne, have you ever thought of marrying an Albanian? You are 35 years old now, in all likelihood no Greek man will wish to marry you now! If I were you, still single at this age, I would be thinking about it!"

"Maybe you would," I retort, yet she goes on undaunted:

"For instance, you could go to Omonia Square and offer some food to the homeless foreigners who gather there! Who knows, if you do this quite often, one of them might ask you to marry him!"

"I am not at all willing to be stuck with a beggar! You see, marriage is not everything to me!" I answer, as calm as possible.

In the evening, when Peter returns home, I notice he is rather cold towards my cousin. The atmosphere between them will remain tense and gloomy until the time comes for me to leave. According to what relatives say, Peter makes himself sparser and sparser, as the date of the babies' birth comes nearer and nearer – probably because the twins were not conceived with his own sperm. "I'm not going to ruin my life, just because Annita wants to have children!" I heard him say at a moment.

A few weeks later, after the twins are born, my cousin will empty the flat and return to her parents in Cefallonia – without her husband knowing anything about it. When he comes home from work in the afternoon, he will find himself all alone in a completely empty apartment...

Tuesday, 24th March 1998

This afternoon I met Mary Skina after work. Our discussions of today proved quite interesting, as my new friend confided to me some incredible facts from her life: When she was still new in Pangaea, Mary invited all her colleagues to dinner one night. However, just two days before the meeting it rained in torrents and the water flooded her house; in fact, it was the only house in the area that was flooded! As a result, all her newly-bought furniture was destroyed and the dinner with her colleagues was cancelled.

When Mary was young, she used to be a good-looking and elegant woman with blond hair and big green eyes; she was also a lively, pleasant and sociable person, with a very seductive dowry composed of half a dozen houses in the posh suburb of Psychico and lots of money in the bank. Nevertheless, none of her boyfriends has ever proposed to her – "not even just for my money", as she complains. The only man who ever asked her to marry him was a 27-year-old neighbour of hers, when Mary was 19. Three hours later, before even Mary had had the time to decide whether to accept or not, the young man was killed in a car accident! "There is no fate", some wiseacres claim. Yet, in this world there is nothing but fate...

Not only that, but all her property has been squandered little by little, because of bad management, inheritance problems, shrewd lawyers, demanding lovers. Moreover, although she was -and still is- a beautiful, attractive, lively blonde, most of her boyfriends wanted her company but refrained from having sex with her! "I doubt if I have done it more than twenty times in my whole life! I just don't think about it, because I don't want to lose my mind!" she confesses to me. Mary has never been married, she has no children, and for this reason she is obsessed with marriage. Even now, that she is over 55, she dreams of having a young, handsome and educated husband; yet she can't find anything of the kind – which makes her feel sad and anxious.

Another serious problem of hers is how to pay off debts of four million drachmas; Mary is up to her eyes in debt because of Zachary, her latest young boyfriend: she has travelled with him all over Europe, she has paid lots of money for him, yet he hasn't even touched her hand, she says.

It is obvious that Mary is neurotic and full of obsessions regarding men and marriage, yet this doesn't explain why she has ended up all alone in the world, unemployed and in debt. Anyway, there are other women who are more stupid than hens, completely unbalanced, with a horrible character, yet they have the best husbands and their lives are as regular as clockwork.

Besides, despite her psychological problems, Mary is always polite and pleasant; she listens to me when I talk, without putting forward all kinds of silly objections to everything, like most "normal" people do. With her I can communicate better than with any other person I know...

Wednesday, 25th March 1998

My friend Louise is giving a feast tonight and I am invited. However I can't go, neither can any of the other guests, because there is a terrible windstorm with heavy rain outside – something unprecedented for the county of Attiki! It is just impossible for me to step out of my house!

At a moment my nephew John comes upstairs so as to keep me company. My parents are absent; they are at the Children's Hospital in Athens, where Josef is under treatment. All at once, there is a loud bang, the iron door of the kitchen breaks open -although it was locked- and the windstorm invades the house! John helps me close the door again and we put the table, the chairs and a broom against it, so that it won't open again!

Late at night my father returns home, after a long bus journey from Athens to St Tryfon Square. He is in a sorry state, I wonder how he made it to arrive home.

Next morning we will find out that the unprecedented windstorm has uprooted lots of tall and robust trees, which now lie down in streets and squares...

Friday, 3rd April 1998

Lucid Dream: Looking for a handsome man in my dream, I finally meet two guys but I choose one of them: he has blond curly hair and he is about 30 years old. I caress him, he responds positively. I unbutton his shirt and I see he has a nice, lean, trained body. I can feel the contact and the excitement, then I have an orgasm that lasts a few seconds...

Psychic Experience: In the evening, I sit on a chair listening to some music, and I feel very relaxed. At a moment, I have the impression there is a bright light before my shut eyes, where I can make out an angelic entity made of light. This wonderful experience lasted only a few seconds; I was not sleeping...

Thursday, 7th May 1998

This afternoon my mother and I visited Mrs Zeta, an old neighbour. The woman got on my nerves because she seems to be certain about the natural inferiority of Greeks in comparison with all the other peoples of the world. The fact is that more and more Greeks -usually ''respectable'' citizens who have neither travelled abroad nor received any superior education- suddenly have an opinion about everything and they trumpet forth ideas such as: "Greeks are good for nothing, they are lazy rascals, whereas Americans and Europeans are perfect in everything!"

I can't help wondering: What's happened to the traditional patriotism of Greeks? As if they all attended the same special seminars, they have all become xenomaniac and they ardently support the dogma of the inferiority of Greeks -as if they were not Greeks!

Predictions about the future: Sooner or later, Greece will disappear from the map. This is the plan of undercurrent networks, since the Greek spirit of freedom is considered to be dangerous for the imminent New World Order. The rulers of the world dislike the fact that the average Greek is still relatively carefree and likes having fun, in contrast to Europeans or Americans who work day and night like robots.

Pieces of a certain puzzle: The massive invasion of emigrants in our country has caused serious unemployment, as well as a spectacular increase of delinquency. Moreover, the inevitable intermarriage is due to alter the genetic characteristics of the Greek race. The third world economy, which has been methodically imposed on the country during the last decades, gradually leads the lower social classes (alias: those who don't belong to any networks) to destitution. The continuous downgrading of education leaves the new generation of Greeks practically uncultured. The uncountable fires and conflagrations during the summer destroy our forests and natural resources.

The purpose of all the above is to undermine the Greek civilization and gradually turn Greeks into soulless machines, who will work obediently for endless hours for a pittance, deprived of any personal or national consciousness.

Nevertheless, why should I care? I know they are all willing to join any kind of dark networks, in exchange for a permanent job, a more expensive car or a bigger social circle...

Saturday, 9th May 1998

My friend Mary Glenos and I are on a two-day seminar of self-knowledge at the asram of the sect "Spiritual Harmony", which is situated near the city of Marcopoulon. During a meditation exercise, we are told to write a word on a piece of paper, fold it and give it to the person sitting next to us. There is a plump lady near me, with whom we exchange pieces of paper. Then we sit one opposite the other, and we hold hands. The plump lady shuts her eyes, concentrates and gives her oracle about me in a low voice: "Your heart is a bright sun, which shines for all people; there are birds flying to the sun, their open wings block your light; lots of traumatic experiences have caused a blockage somewhere deep inside you; you are a reserved person, because of evil people who harmed you in the past; you only wish to be loved; people do love you but you want more...". I don't know why, but while her monologue lasts I can't help crying with tears...

Sunday, 10th May 1998

This morning we are having a lesson of dance therapy: According to the mistress's instructions, we all close our eyes and dance to evocative music, each one of us doing whatever we feel like doing, without caring about the opinion of the others. No movement is considered to be ugly or ungraceful. The purpose of this activity is to make us feel free and express ourselves, just by co-ordinating our movements with the music. Nobody here poses as a sex bomb or a super star, as it happens in ordinary night clubs. Indeed, this is the first time in my life I've enjoyed dancing so much...

Saturday, 16th May 1998

I am on an evening outing to a cafeteria in Glyfada, together with Selene, Victor, Liana and her boyfriend Nick. At a moment Selene frowns and starts talking about a certain problem she has faced lately:

"I bought a pair of shoes the other day, yet I found out soon they were too tight for me. So, I phoned and asked them to let me change that pair for another one; however, not only did they refuse to do so, but they were rude to me as well – maybe because it had taken me three hours to choose... I had to shout a lot so as to make them agree!"

"You did the right thing! And then?" Nick asks to know.

"Then something else came up, so I wasn't able to go to the shoe-shop at once; but I went there a few weeks later," replies the diva smiling.

"Sorry, when did you buy that pair of shoes?" I wondered.

"I bought them in the beginning of March!"

"And when did you phone them for the change?"

"In mid April!"

"So, when did you finally return those shoes?"

"Three days ago! I went there and asked them, very politely, to change them for another pair. However, the season was over, so they had put away the winter shoes..."

"And the rogues refused to change them?" asks Nick, full of anxiety.

"Yes, those rascals! I yelled at them, yet they wouldn't listen; so, I threatened that my mother, who is a journalist, would libel them in the newspapers! This is how they finally agreed to let me look for a pair of summer shoes. Nevertheless, after a three-hour search I found nothing I liked and I asked for my money back! Then, those idiots began to call me names, they called me crazy, and they refused flatly to give my money back. ''Excuse me, you mean I am obliged to throw away 8000 drachmas?'' I said to them..."

"Don't tell me you just gave up!" I said ironically -but she didn't get it.

"Of course not! I threatened them again, they made fun of me and then I phoned my mother; she called them immediately, she swore badly at them, and she made clear they would be in for serious trouble unless they conformed to my wishes! In the end, the morons agreed to let me come to their shop any time I like, and search for as many hours as I like, until I find a satisfactory pair of shoes!" concludes Selene with a wide smile of complacence, while the others look at her in admiration.

At least she is going away: Selene is leaving for Cyprus in a few days. She has a house there, as well as many relatives who have found her a job as an aerobics trainer in a gym. So, she won't be here any more, and that's the best for all of us...

The Perfect Evil: In general, evil beings look repugnant and they give out a dark, repellent, slimy aura. Nevertheless, the Perfect Evil is hard to recognize since it is gifted with a charming appearance and a pleasant aura. I've never sensed anything negative coming out of Selene; only a few times has her beautiful face reminded me of a snake...

Persons like Selene and Ellie (the biggest star in our taekwondo class) represent the Perfect Evil. They are gifted with an impeccable external appearance, invincible charm, innate hypocrisy, sophisticated arrogance as well as simulated politeness – traits which conceal very well the demon inside them.

Such people have a natural talent in absorbing energy from the people around them, and they exert a quasi hypnotic influence on any social environment. Wherever they are, literally everybody and everything revolves around them. They enjoy being the centre of attention, manipulating everyone, playing with other people's feelings, hatching all kinds of plots against those they dislike, taking full advantage of persons and situations. However, no matter what they do, no matter what they say, the others always adore and obey them. Nobody ever accuses them of anything, no matter how obvious the evil they do is. Human beings eagerly worship the Perfect Evil...

Friday, 29th May 1998

About a month ago I had an unexpected phone call from Apostolis and Danae, old friends from Janus, now married together. At first I was happy to hear them, as I thought they would suggest a reunion of the old party; however, I realized soon they had another purpose: They did invite me to their house, but not for a friendly meeting; they wanted to recruit me to the famous multinational company "Network 3001". I refused spontaneously.

Apostolis called four or five times again, and he insisted a lot on my joining their network. When he was finally discouraged, a chief salesman of the company undertook the difficult task of persuading me. He phoned me this afternoon and in the end he seemed to be kinda annoyed because I resisted him: "We always find the people we need!" he said before hanging up.

The same company has also come in contact with my friend Louise through her brother-in-law, who is already a member. However, she refused flatly to join them.

"I know what kind of game you play!" Louise's brother said to the chief salesman who visited them the other day. "You are supposed to sell various household products, but the truth is you are a citizen surveillance network!"

"We'll talk about it later!" the salesman replied coolly.

A citizen surveillance network? Which means what?

Wednesday, 17th June 1998

This afternoon I finished writing the sixth volume of my illustrated manuscript "Sandra Anderson - Astral Fantasy", after two years of delay. It is clear to me that the star of the heroine Sandra Anderson is setting. This book contains three stories and I have observed only one contact, in the second story: Snow in the village of Lamatag; then the sun is coming out. As I am writing and drawing the scene, it is snowing here in Athens; then the sun is coming out.

That's all. From now on, my inspiration wanes. I don't write often anymore, I don't feel the need. After the sixth book, there comes twilight for "Astral Fantasy". Two more books will follow in a time span of five years, but they don't have the "soul" of the previous volumes, nor do I observe any contacts...

Sunday, 21st June 1998

Psychic Experience: While walking along Akademias Avenue in Athens, I have a strange sensation just for a few seconds: Something like a whirling rainbow appears before me on my left, while a soft, heavenly music is ringing in my ears...۩

On occasion of my birthday, I invited my friends to a pizzeria in Glyfada this evening. Then we all went to the disco "Vinyl" and danced to nostalgic music of the '60s, '70s, and '80s. Nineta, Xanthippe, Helen and I had a wonderful time tonight; it's been years since I last had such a good time. "It was a moving experience", according to Nineta's words.

Friday, 10th July 1998

My mother, our friend Theone and I went for a walk this afternoon; at a moment we paused outside a clothes shop and I noticed a lovely dress on the shop window. It was short to the middle of the thigh, it had a beautiful floral design and its price was unexpectedly low. I decided to buy it immediately, so we entered the shop, I tried the dress on and I saw it suited me fine, since I am tall and thin with long, trained legs; however, mum and Theone started complaining:

"This dress is too short, it's not right for you! Why don't you buy the other one, which is long to the ankles?" my mother suggested and Theone agreed.

The saleswoman got wind of what was going on and she expressed her wonder.

"Yvonne can't wear such things!" explained Theone.

"Why not? Is she disabled or something?" said the saleswoman and I felt awkward.

I finally bought the dress despite my mother's and Theone's strong objections. Indeed, I can't understand why they reacted like that: Alice, my dear sister, often wears clothes which are much more provocative than this, yet they never say a word to her...

Saturday, 11th July 1998

Early in the morning my mother and Theone drink coffee together in our balcony, while zealously trying to let my new dress down by lowering the hemline by two centimetres -it can't get any lower. I try the dress on again, it is still short to the middle of the thigh and the two ladies are not satisfied. Mum takes the belt of the dress in her hands, she sees it is made of the same cloth, but it is too narrow to be added as a gusset to the hemline. Then, she has another idea: "We must go back to the shop and ask the saleswoman if there is any more of this cloth left, so that we can lengthen the dress at last!". I disagree because the gusset will look bad, yet nobody listens to me. Theone grabs the belt and she leaves the house running all the way. After a while she comes back disappointed because she couldn't find what she wanted. Was that incident weird, or is it just me?

Thursday, 16th July 1998

Night Adventure: I am in Alexander's asram. It looks like an ideal society, where everything seems to be fine and peaceful. However, I discover soon that all disciples undergo some special brain surgery which turns them to obedient workers. I try to sabotage that society of slaves – but when I wake up I don't remember any details. Interpretation: In all probability, this is the truth about sects and asrams; they turn their members into mindless slaves by use of mind control methods.

Psychic Experience: It begins as a lucid dream, which soon ends in black emptiness. However, far and away there is a bright light pulsating in waves. I wake up with a sensation of deep satisfaction and fulfillment...

Chapter 38: Culmination

Monday, 17th August 1998

It is 6:00 o' clock in the morning and I am leaving for holidays in Santorini, with tickets offered by the Workers' Home. I will spend nine endless hours on the deck of the crowded ship, seated on a plastic chair. The group will gather when we reach the port of Skala and get on the coach to Perissa.

Night has fallen when we are guided to a seaside restaurant for dinner. Since I have no company of my own, I sit all alone at a table, where I vainly wait to be served. All waiters ignore me because I have occupied a whole table by myself, which isn't profitable to the restaurant. Finally I stand up and leave, feeling gloomy and vexed. I go to a nearby steakhouse and buy two skewers full of fat, so as to satisfy my hunger...

Tuesday, 18th August 1998

At 8:00 am someone knocks on my door. It is our tour guide, who announces I should promptly empty my beautiful, quiet, single room on the second floor and share a double room on the first floor with a 70-year-old woman! I drop from the clouds, I protest, to no avail: The tour guide frowns, she says I am normally entitled to a bed in a double room, not a single one, and she orders me to be quick because a couple of tourists has just arrived from Crete and they want my room at once. Therefore, I have to pack my things and carry my luggage to the reception, waiting for further instructions.

About an hour later, we all gather and go to the beach of Perivolos, where I try to forget my misfortune and enjoy swimming. Later, while having lunch in a seaside taverna, two women from the group invite me to their table. The 40-year-old Corina works as a teller in a big bank and she is divorced with two adult children; the 34-year-old Donna is a saleswoman and still single.

At a moment Donna complains she has found a hair in her food. The waiter apologizes and he fetches another dish, where Donna finds another hair pretty soon. She is offered a third dish, where she finds one more hair! This time she won't complain to the waiter, she will only frown. In all likelihood, all three hairs were hers...

In the afternoon the three of us take to bus to Fira, the capital of the island. We shall spend more than an hour at the hospital because Donna has a pimple on her chin and she is afraid it might be mortal...

Wednesday, 19th August 1998

We are on a tour to the seaside town of Kamari. The beach proves to be extremely craggy, it is impossible for us to swim here. Corina and I decide to hire a parasol, but Donna disagrees because "it is too expensive; besides I prefer to sunbathe" she says. So, she lies down on the sand, away from us -what a weirdo! When the time comes for us to leave, the lady approaches and says meaningfully: "The place isn't anything special; and when the company is bad, it is even worse!"

In the afternoon we take the afternoon bus to Oia, with a view to watch the sunset, which is considered to be a special sight. For about an hour or so we walk around the beautiful town that extends for two kilometres along the northern edge of the caldera. When the time comes, we stand at the Sunset Serenade point, together with dozens of other tourists, so as to watch the famous sunset in the horizon; It's fascinating but I can't say I am thrilled: actually, some sunsets in Glyfada are more impressive!

Later, as we go around the busy streets of the picturesque tourist resort, all at once I realize I walk alone, as the two friends of mine have unexpectedly paused for a while. I have to turn back and it takes me about five minutes to find them again. As I hear, a bloke has just flirted Corina, she played hard to get for a few moments, but then they exchanged telephone numbers. Yet, both ladies agree the guy was obnoxious.

On our way back to Perissa, we suddenly decide to get off the bus in Fira and go to a very popular club where we meet (by chance?) the bloke mentioned above, who will come and sit with us. He is short, fat, slimy, ironic, disagreeable and he claims to be a wealthy businessman. Corina seems to be anything but annoyed; in fact, she looks kinda flattered with the whole situation.

At a moment Donna takes me out to the yard because she wants to smoke a cigarette and she complains that "I don't do things like that, I am not used to encouraging any moron who might flirt me; I respect myself and I don't like making a fool of myself..." I can't say she is wrong in this case.

Thursday, 20th August 1998

This morning we went to the sandy beach of Monolithos for a swim, and then we had lunch in a traditional seaside restaurant. When we returned to the hotel, the old woman who happens to be my roommate started complaining to me because, in her opinion, we were overcharged for the salad (about 100 drachmas) and, more or less, she wanted me to give her that sum of money! I refused flatly, in a rather rude manner, and she shut up. Sometimes this is the only way to make them understand...

In the evening Corina and I went to Perissa for dinner. The boor-faced waiter set his cap on her and then he gave her a small piece of paper with his telephone number written on it. What a sex bomb Corina is! Later on, she and I agreed to go to a nearby club for a drink. While walking along the street, we talked about the obnoxious bloke we met in Fira yesterday; Corina said she hadn't liked him at all. Then she hastened to make an urgent phone call in a telephone box. Finally, we sat at a fine outdoor club decorated with straw umbrellas.

We had been chatting pleasantly for some minutes, when suddenly the dandy from Oia turned up, "just by chance", as Corina assured me. I noticed, however, that the bloke hadn't been looking around for us; I saw him enter the club without the slightest hesitation, as if he had known exactly where he would find us. Pretty soon the two love birds made it clear I had to hit the road, so that they could be alone – and this is what I did, like a good friend full of understanding and adaptability...

Friday, 21st August 1998

Corina and I have arranged to go to a luxurious hotel nearby, so as to spend the afternoon in its wonderful swimming pool. When the time comes, I leave my room and wait for the duchess to appear at the reception. Twenty minutes later she is still nowhere to see, so I decide to go there alone.

The swimming pool is really fantastic: It looks like an exotic land full of green-leaved palms and straw umbrellas. There is a nice wooden bridge over the pool and a small green island decorated with little statues at the corner. I feel wonderfully calm as I swim slowly in the turquoise water and, later, as I sip my frappé coffee under the setting sun. I spontaneously experience another reality, an unhoped-for bliss I could have discovered earlier, all those days I spent running behind wayward friends.

I am greatly surprised as soon as I realize the people around me are unusually quiet and unobtrusive. Most of them are foreigners and they belong to a superior social class; maybe that's why they don't feel the need to show off by yelling, screaming and making trouble. Nobody shouts, nobody swears, the children don't squeal hysterically all the time, nor do they annoy everybody by plunging near other people's heads – a big difference from the exasperating, boorish behaviour which prevails at the swimming pools of cheaper hotels.

Nevertheless, after an hour or so I decide to leave this small paradise so as to catch the bus to Fira, together with my two friends. Till late at night, when we finally return to our hotel, they barely talk to each other and they always look gloomy and resentful, while I am bored to death...

Saturday, 22nd August 1998

This is our last night in Santorini but I am still not sure whether tomorrow morning I depart or not. It's three days now that Corina and I have been discussing our staying here till Tuesday, but she hasn't given me a final answer yet. First she said she hadn't taken her debit card with her, so she couldn't withdraw money from the bank; then she couldn't remember the pin of the card; then she wasn't able to find her son on the phone and ask him about the pin! And now that this problem has been solved at last, the lady can't reach a decision! Nevertheless, it was she who first suggested lengthening our stay, it was her idea!

The time is 9:30 now, and I ask her -once again- what we shall do. She refrains from answering, she only shrugs her shoulders, still undecided. So, I take the initiative and tell her we are leaving tomorrow for Athens, together with the rest of the group. I just can't help wondering: How do such brainless people get on in life? How can they even cope with everyday reality?

Wednesday, 26th August 1998

I have been on the island of Melos since yesterday, together with my friends Nineta and Xanthippe. We are staying in a triple room in a hotel near the port of Adamantas. This morning we went swimming to Hivadolimni, a long sandy beach with crystal waters. Unfortunately, I have my period so I can't swim, but I walked barefoot on the seaside for a while; Xanthippe grumbled I should stay motionless and guard our things. I paid no attention to her.

In the evening we visited the picturesque village of Pollonia, built around a small cove full of fishing boats. Xanthippe was not in the mood for exploring the place; as usual, she wanted us to go and sit at the nearest cafeteria. Luckily, Nineta suggested our promenading along the semicircular sea front, to the white chapel situated at its furthest end. So, despite Xanthippe's incessant complaints, we enjoyed a wonderful walk around the cove -no more that half an hour on foot.

Approaching the chapel at a very slow pace, Xanthippe looked worn out, ready to collapse of fatigue. No sooner had we reached the wooden door, than the delicate countess stood still and exclaimed: "It's 8:00 o' clock already! Soon it will be dark and we'll be in danger! We must return at once!" She swung round immediately and took to her heels, while Nineta and I had no other alternative but follow her hastily. Too bad we weren't able to light a candle...

Thursday, 27th August 1998

I wanted so much to visit the Catacombs, a renowned sight of Melos, yet it proved to be impossible for me to persuade Xanthippe; she strongly refused to agree, claiming that tour would be exhausting. Nineta, always languid and sleepy, went along with Xanthippe.

At night we agreed to go to a famous club near the port. We left the hotel at 10:30, we walked and walked, but there was no end to that walk! Then I realized our pace was incredibly slow. "Sorry, but why are we walking like this, as if we were attending a funeral?" I asked. Nineta burst into laughing but she didn't go any faster, neither did Xanthippe. It took us about an hour to reach the club and right at that moment Xanthippe stood still and exclaimed: "Oh no, we can't go in now, it is only 11:30! It will certainly be empty!" Then, she swung round and, ignoring my objections, walked away fast, taking the road back to the port. Nineta and I had to follow her once again, until we ended up in another club near our hotel. It was not bad, but it was almost empty.

Friday, 28th August 1998

Having finally realized I can't depend on my friends for sight-seeing, this morning I decided to go to Papafragas Beach by myself, without telling them anything. Anyway, they never wake up earlier than 1:00 pm.

The rocky landscape proved to be really enchanting, but I didn't dare go down the narrow, slippery path, carved all the way down the precipice, to the magical Papafragas beach. Yet, I discovered another beach nearby, equally beautiful, where I relished swimming.

When the afternoon came, my good friends decided to go swimming at the Papafragas Beach -which surprised me a a lot. When we arrived there, they didn't know where to stand but I impressed them with my "instinctive" knowledge of the territory.

"Are you sure you've never been here before?" Xanthippe asked me suspiciously.

"Me? Of course I haven't!" I replied innocently.

Saturday, 29th August 1998

Time flies and the ladies haven't decided yet whether we'll go on a boat tour around Melos or not. I want it very much, but Xanthippe gets tired just by thinking about it. I have reconciled myself to the the idea of spending the morning in the hotel, when a miracle happens: Suddenly Nineta makes her mind up and she asks in a resolute manner: "So? Where shall we find tickets for the boat tour?"

We leave at once and we reach the port within ten minutes; the travel agency proves to be quite near that famous club – the same distance which had taken us an hour to walk two days ago. We manage to get the tickets just at the last moment.

Our first stop is at the world-known gulf of Kleftiko: The landscape is unique; a cluster of impressive volcanic white rocks rise above the crystal turquoise waters; I swim to the coast and reach a cave with two entries; I swim through it, relishing the iridescence of the water on the bottom of the sea, completely absorbed in the natural beauty of the landscape. Only when I reach the end of the tunnel, do I realize there are many people following me, as if I were their leader in the fight for liberty! As about my friends, they haven't dived into the sea yet, I don't know where they are, and I don't care. Then I swim to the middle of the gulf, where a lofty arched rock rises shimmering to the sunlight. I swim under it, watching the colourful pebbles of the sea-bed like hypnotized.

Words are too poor to describe the absolute bliss I experience while swimming in Kleftiko. It is the first time in my life I have been so aware: Even if the rest of my life is torture and pain, it will be worth living only thanks to the utter joy I can feel here and now. This trip to Kleftiko is enough to give my whole life a meaning. I don't need any "higher destiny". I am proud of myself because I can revel in all this magic. Very few people are able to feel such happiness...

Xanthippe, for example, didn't swim at all in Kleftiko because it was too early for her (10:30 am), as she said. She had even suggested each one of us should swim only for twenty minutes, while the other two should stay on the boat and watch our stuff! Because of such silly negotiations, I lost fifteen minutes out of one hour we stayed in Kleftiko. Nineta swam only for twenty minutes, because she made the mistake of listening to Xanthippe. Thanks to my disobedience, I experienced another reality for 45 minutes, and I was the last to return to the boat. Xanthippe put on a long face until the boat stopped again, this time at Gerakas, a wonderful sandy beach with tiny cavities formed around the rocky coast.

Sunday, 30th August 1998

While we were having lunch, Nineta suggested our going to Sarakiniko for a swim, later in the afternoon. I liked the idea but Xanthippe disagreed because "it is very far away and it will be too tiring". Frankly, I don't know what to do with these two: Sometimes I feel as if I were stuck with two 70-year-old women. Finally, we agreed to have a nap till 4:00 pm and then catch a taxi to Sarakiniko.

Psychic Experience: At a moment, as I am getting asleep, a heavenly landscape is being formed before my shut eyes: Two cylindrical towers, made of blue marble and decorated with white alabaster balustrades, rise over a serene turquoise lake. The place is magical, outlandish; it's such a pity this experience won't last more than a few seconds...۩

Anyway, I was the only one who was ready to stand up at 4:00. I had to try really hard so as to make the other two wake up at 4:30 -as tactfully as possible. They lied in for a quarter or so -my nerves- and then they started drivelling incessantly, without ever leaving bed. Soon the time was 5:30, then 5:45. Whenever Nineta was about to get up, Xanthippe went on with her rigmarole, making sure they delayed more and more. When, at last, Nineta decided to leave her bed at about 6:00, I could hardly believe my eyes! "Isn't it too late to go to Sarakiniko now?" said Xanthippe. However, to her great disappointment, the trick "chatter-delay-cancel" didn't wash, so at about 6:30 we took a taxi to Sarakiniko. The journey proved to last no longer than ten minutes by car.

As soon as we reached the fantastic, unique in the world beach of Sarakiniko, I forgot my exasperation at once. The place looks like a moonscape: the narrow beach with the dark blue waters is surrounded by oddly-shaped, petrified sand dunes made of white volcanic tephra. Carried away by the incomparable natural beauty, we began to explore the place, taking photos everywhere. Then we swam in the calm, deep blue sea.

"Isn't it wonderful here?" I asked the others, full of excitement.

"What are you talking about? This water is too dirty!" Xanthippe retorted irritated.

"Dirty? But it is so limpid! You can see all the way down to the bottom!" I disagreed.

"Yet, it is full of bubbles! It's awful here! You can hardly swim here! This place is good for photographs only!" insisted Xanthippe in the same tone.

Indeed, there were some bubbles nearby. Nonsense; I wouldn't allow Xanthippe and her hysteria spoil this unique experience of mine.

"Let's avoid the bubbles, then!" I said and swam away.

Monday, 31st August 1998

This is our last morning on Melos. I wake up early and I put on my bathing-suit and my clothes, taking special care not to wake up the others; I open the door and get ready to leave, as noiselessly as possible. At that moment, Xanthippe's voice makes me pause: "Where are you going?"

"I am going to the baker's, so as to buy something for breakfast," I excuse myself and leave hastily, with a view to catching the 8:00 o' clock bus to Hivadolimni. I definitely want to visit that place again, before leaving the island.

When I arrive at the seaside, I find out I am completely alone there. The crystal sea is wonderfully calm, not even the slightest wave ripples its surface. I relish feeling the silky, limpid water on my skin, in absolute silence. No voice, no scream, no human presence disturbs this divine serenity. An unprecedented, inner tranquility entrances me. Once again, within the same month, I feel fully aware and proud to be able to experience another reality. It's a pity, though, that I have only forty minutes time to enjoy this unique sensation. We are leaving for Athens at noon and we have to empty the room by ten o' clock.

"Why didn't you tell me when I asked you? I would have come with you!" complains Xanthippe as soon as I return to the hotel.

"It was an on-the-spot decision, as I saw the bus to Hivadolimni leaving!" I excuse myself in a sugary voice, while thinking: Of course I didn't tell you anything, I didn't want you to pester me with your perpetual grumbling!

Some days later, when I met Louise and told her all what I had gone through during my vacations on Melos because of the bossy Xanthippe and the lazy Nineta, she couldn't help exclaiming: "Are you kidding? Those were anything but vacations!"

Nevertheless, I consider this month as the culmination of my whole life, since it offered me certain experiences which led me to the limits of nirvana...

Chapter 39: Omens

Wednesday, 2nd September 1998

Nineta, Xanthippe and I are on an evening outing to "Cataralla", a wonderful seaside cafeteria in Glyfada. At a moment I decide to propose our going to the concert of the pop singer Bill Parascos, which is taking place at the Theater of Rocks in Helioupolis the day after tomorrow. Nineta seems to be interested but Xanthippe puts forward some objections -as usual:

"Why not go to the concert of Lina Voulgaris instead? She is going to sing at the same place two days later!"

"But we went to her concert last year!" I remind her, wondering at Xanthippe's desire to watch the same concert so soon. It wasn't that fantastic...

"Yes, but Voulgaris is a lot better than Parascos!" she insists. "Besides, Nineta wasn't with us when we went to that concert last year!"

At that point Nineta changes her mind and says she'd like to watch Lina live. I don't like the conclusion of this conversation but -as always- I prefer to show adaptability and understanding, so I eventually agree with them. After all, it's the company that counts most, right?

Sunday, 6th September 1998

Here I am, walking up the street to the Theater of Rocks in Helioupolis; I have arranged to meet Nineta and Xanthippe outside the gate at 8:30, so as to watch tonight's concert of Lina Voulgaris. To be honest, I am not thrilled about that; I would rather have watched Parascos' concert who sang here two days ago...

Now the time is 9:00, the concert is about to begin, but I am still here, outside the gate, waiting for the two top-drawers to arrive. The outdoor theatre is already full, all seats are occupied and I am the only one who's still waiting outside. The time gets 9:15; I know that even if they come now, there are no more tickets available. I try hard to hold my temper in check. At 9:30 the ladies haven't appeared yet, so I give up and start walking down the road to Vouliagmenis Avenue -quite relieved I'd say.

Later, at home, I receive a phone call from Nineta, who tries to explain: She met Xanthippe in New Faliron and they took a taxi together. The driver didn't know where the Theater of Rocks is, and Xanthippe was eager to guide him. It's a mystery how she got so confused, but they finally ended up somewhere in Pagrati, outside another gate which was deserted and closed!

"Is there another gate?" I wonder.

"In the meanwhile the time was already 9:30 and the concert was just beginning!" Nineta winds up.

For heaven's sake, how long had they been wandering around the streets in a taxi?

"How did you manage to get lost like that?" I wonder. "I walked all the way from Daphni to the theatre and I didn't get lost. How did you get so confused although you had taken a taxi? Besides, Xanthippe has been to the Theatre of Rocks before! She knows where the gate is!"

"Yes, you are right, it sounds stupid, but we lost the way!" Nineta replies sad.

Xanthippe phones me a little later and apologizes for the mess. "You have no idea how distressed I feel," she says. I neither show nor feel any anger, although I suspect Xanthippe misguided the taxi driver on purpose, because she didn't really want to watch that concert for a second time. She only wanted to oppose me when I expressed my preference for Parascos. In two words, the madwoman engineered the whole plot just because she wanted to get on my nerves...

Saturday, 12th September 1998

Amazing! Tonight Bill Parascos is giving a concert at the Stadium of Argyroupolis -just twenty minutes on foot from my house! So, Nineta and I have arranged to meet there at 8:00 pm. "Don't mention anything to Xanthippe! She will do anything to spoil the fun!" I've recommended.

The stadium is not big and the seats we find are pretty good. The artist sings his greatest hits with brio and he excites the crowds. However, I have to try hard to ignore a little problem which has just arisen: The young man on my left wouldn't stop waving his arms full of enthusiasm, right before my eyes! For some time I try not to pay any attention. Let's no be crabby, all youngsters act like this, I think -but this is wrong: Taking a more careful look around, I realize that the gentleman next to me is the only one in the whole stadium who gesticulates so violently, all the time. Amongst hundreds of seated spectators, the only idiot is sitting right next to me!

At a moment I explain my problem to Nineta and she seems to understand: "There is only one lunatic in the whole stadium and he is sitting next to you!" she says. Nevertheless, when I ask her to sit on the upper tier, she is too bored to move a finger. A little later my patience is exhausted, I can no longer stand the spastic moron beside me, so I stand up and sit on the upper tier without saying anything to my friend. Nineta stays put and silent, but I know she's taken it amiss.

Friday, 18th September 1998

It is 10:00 o' clock at night and I am sitting at our veranda together with Alice. We are watching the traffic of the street in languor, when her friend July arrives unexpectedly. A little later they start talking about the concert of the famous pop group "Lofty Rocks", which is about to begin at the Olympic Stadium. All of a sudden, July suggests their going there at once! "But the concert must have already begun and we don't even have tickets! Moreover, the stadium is in Kalogreza and it will take us two hours to get there by car!" replies my sister. However, July insists and Alice is convinced.

Unbelievable, yet true: They arrive at the Olympic Stadium at 11:30. Twenty thousand people are in there, but the concert hasn't begun yet. They ladies have no tickets, neither can they get any, because they are all sold out! But! A policeman (who fell in love with them) allows them to enter without tickets! They even manage to find good places to sit, right in front! In this way, they will be able to enjoy the impressive live concert in comfort and free of charge! Now, let's make a comparison between my fate and my sister's...

Tuesday, 22nd September 1998

This afternoon I visited Persephone at her old house in Athonos Street, for the last time. The day after tomorrow my friend is leaving for England, where she will study English literature. This old house will be demolished tomorrow and at its place a huge, modern, five-storied block of flats will be built.

Persephone's departure, along with the demolition of her old house, causes me mixed feelings of impatience and nostalgia. On one hand I want her to go because I know she is involved in suspicious networks and actions against me; on the other hand, I feel that together with Persa a whole world will soon be gone for ever – the relatively innocent years of the 80's and the '90s. Anyway, this is the end of a 13-year-old friendship, the first serious friendship of my life: No matter what happens in the future, our relationship will never be the same again.

Little by little the world I've known so far is falling apart and it is gradually replaced by another, which is being built very fast and it has nothing to do with the old one. My reality is being altered continually, unpredictably, radically...

Wednesday, 23rd September 1998

Something kinda strange happened during the taekwondo lesson this evening: The class was divided into four teams and we had a running contest. When my turn came, I outran three men who were objectively faster than me! Unbelievable but true! How did this happen? One of them stumbled and fell down. The second one was somehow confused and didn't run at all. The third one started running too late. "You were outrun by Yvonne," he was told disparagingly.

Fate is an invisible, indefinable force hovering above our heads and it has the last word in everything. Naturally, a person's abilities can improve someone's odds -but this is no guarantee for success. Anyway, our whole life depends on specific moments...

Monday, 28th September 1998

This afternoon Mary Glenos and I visited "Spiritual Harmony", a modern sect situated in Marousi, so as to enroll in one of the beginners' classes. First of all, I found it strange that Mary just wandered from desk to desk, chatting and smiling to everybody, without joining any class. She hasn't got any free time, she told me. At a moment, two ladies came into the vast room; they looked completely lost and Mary was eager to guide them to the right desk. "Here are two new disciples!" she said to the woman in charge, with a big smile. Why did this strike weird to me?

Later on, we decided to go for a souvlaki in an outdoor steakhouse. For a while we discussed various interesting subjects, mostly about metaphysics and parapsychology; at a moment, a middle-aged man, who was sitting at the next table, turned round and asked us:

"Excuse me ladies, are you teachers?"

"No, we aren't," I answered abruptly, thinking the man wanted to dally with us.

However, the stranger soon proved to have no such intentions. He only felt the need to confide his problem to two persons who seemed to be cultivated enough for that. As he explained, he has been suffering from disseminated sclerosis for some years now. His malady has deteriorated recently and he can hardly move.

"Once I was married; but when I began to paralyze, my wife left me," he said bitterly.

"Did she know about your disease from the start?" I asked to know.

"Of course, I had told her right from the first moment!"

This is not his only problem, though: Some years ago he had his own profitable advertising company with numerous clients, as well as a rich social life: "Back at those times, you would have had to pull some strings if you had wanted to see me for five minutes! But now, everybody has turned their backs on me!" he complained, and we expressed our understanding and compassion to him. Mary told him about "Spiritual Harmony" and she advised him to seek psychological support there.

A little later the stranger stood up, he bid farewell and went away at a very slow pace. Mary expressed her disapproval about his ex wife, who deserted him as soon as difficulties began. A few months ago I would have agreed with her, but my mind works differently now:

"I can see you point, but think about it: There are lots of men around us who are healthy, good-looking, excellent husbands and fathers, yet their wife abandons them just because she wants to! So, why should a woman be eternally faithful to a disabled man?"

"Maybe the ''excellent husband and father'' doesn't do it right!" retorted Mary with an enigmatic smile. I was astounded at her reasoning.

"You mean that a disabled man, who's paralyzing day by day, does it right?" I answered back.

"And then we say we are spiritual persons, interested in metaphysics!" concluded Mary, with an air of profundity.

"Indeed, why is it right that two lives are wasted instead of one? Why is it considered right for a healthy person to sacrifice his or her own life so as to serve a cripple who's never going to get any better? Because religions say so?" I insisted and regretted it immediately. Yet, it was too late: Once again I wasn't wise enough to keep my mouth shut...

"Be sorry for nobody but yourself": My whole life is the living proof that human morality is nothing but hypocrisy, since it favours the handicapped at the expense of the healthy. I have always been physically healthy, relatively good-looking and intelligent. As a person I am calm, cultivated, adaptable, understanding. Nevertheless, since early childhood I have experienced nothing but contempt from everybody. Until I was 26 years old, nobody wanted me as a friend -still I can't fully explain why. I had to search high and low, even resort to sects, so as to find a few friends – all of whom have proved to be wayward and insincere.

Therefore, the guy who complains everybody turned their backs on him as soon as his disease manifested itself, is in a much better position than me. At least once he had a wife, a successful career, a rich social life. I have always been healthy, yet I've always been shrugged off by everybody ever since I was born.

All things considered, Mary Skina is absolutely right when she advises me: "Don't feel sorry for any cripple you see! You never know what kind of support they have! Who has ever supported you? No one! That's why I'm telling you: Pity nobody but yourself!"

Thursday, 1st October 1998

This evening I have arranged to meet Maria, a 17-year-old girl with whom I keep company at the taekwondo school. I can see this is a little strange, because she is a lot younger than me; I feel even more awkward when I see her arriving, dressed casually in blue jeans; I am dressed more formally. We sit at a nice outdoor cafeteria, and we chat pleasantly for about three hours. Despite our disparity in age, we can communicate well and we have some common interests.

Odd coincidence no 1: We have hardly been at the cafeteria for ten minutes, when Ellie and her husband pass by and see us! She approaches, she greets us, she kisses us full of joy, and then she goes away smiling in satisfaction.

Odd coincidence no 2: As soon as we get on the bus home, we bump into George: He is a nice 18-year-old guy and he also attends our taekwondo class. "I didn't know you two go out! If you like, the three of us can go out together!" he tells me politely. As if the whole taekwondo class were out tonight, so that one of them might locate Maria and me. Or am I too suspicious?

Saturday, 3rd October 1998

Night Adventure: I am in a strange, dark room. Monstrous, shrunk heads rush in threateningly. I advise a child to fight the monsters by saying the Lord's Prayer. The monsters are after me and I try to escape running up and down many flights of stairs or through hotel rooms. Having a more careful look, I can see the heads belong to some of my classmates in taekwondo, namely those who belong to Ellie's clique. I keep on running full of agony, always wondering "Why?" Finally, I jump through an open window to the garden and I manage to escape, since the monsters can't come out in the sunlight. Verification: See below.

Monday, 5th October 1998

I don't know what's happening any more: All my classmates at the taekwondo school ignore me completely, as if I were nonexistent. Maria has just exchanged telephone numbers with Ellie and she has already begun avoiding me, while the clique is obviously in a hurry to include her.

This is getting weirder and weirder: As if I did something terrible to them, they all treat me like a miasma. I have never been popular in my life, but this is the first time I have faced such condensed, concerted hostility. Even Victor, who has come to my house and we have been out together many times, when we are at the taekwondo school he acts as if he were a total stranger.

After today's lesson, I plucked up my courage and approached the others, who were sitting at the bench by the door; at a moment I heard Victor announcing with a smile: "The weak should be exterminated!"

"Victor is a good guy! We should include him in our racket!" Costa (a 45-year-old half-baked karateka) responded immediately.

Christina, a 16-year-old new pupil who has a lot of arrogance for a new pupil, stared at me and asked me ironically: "When are you leaving, Yvonne?"

"Soon," I replied, acting the fool, as usual...

Tuesday, 6th October 1998

It's been a couple of months that I have been friends with Urania, an old acquaintance of mine. She has two children now, a 16-year-old daughter and a 10-year-old son, she has divorced her husband because he is a gambler and a womanizer, she has worked as a military nurse for 18 years and she is already a pensioner, at the early age of 37. She has had many negative experiences which have caused her certain psychological problems, as she admits. In general she is extrovert and interesting but she often loses her temper and she wouldn't hesitate to throw out certain innuendos against me, such as: "You haven't made any sacrifices in your life, that's why you haven't achieved anything!" -which could be true...

This afternoon we had a lengthy conversation about her fervent desire for economic independence: "I have always wanted to have money in my pocket," she says. "That's why, as soon as I finished high school, I decided to work at once and become a military nurse. If you don't have money, people walk all over you, Yvonne!" she concludes with a serious mien.

She also believes that human adaptability is admirable, even before death: "There comes a day when you accept you must work so as to make a living; in the same way, there comes a day when you accept you are about to die..." she says, according to her age-long experience as a nurse.

Monday, 12th October 1998

This morning Mrs Zolotas came into my office and started bragging about her beloved son who is a computer genius, working on multimedia ever since he was eleven; he has been studying computer music in America for the last two years, she told me.

"Not like some other people, who waste their time on trips and outings!" I said.

"My son doesn't have to study much; he is able to finish the curriculum of two years within six months! And when his studies are over, he will be earning one million drachmas per month!" she concluded arrogantly.

... What kind of lecture was that? Anyway, I no longer take such fairy tales seriously, because I know well what's going on around me: For example, Mrs Zolotas and her son excel in one thing only: serving powerful, malevolent, dark networks...

Chapter 40: Pincer movements

Monday, 19th October 1998

This is my first day as a receptionist and telephone operator in Pangaea. After a six-month wait, finally I was brought a desk from the abandoned fifth floor, which is big enough to hold the computer, the printer and the telephone central on it. Two men employees from the bookshop undertook that difficult task. Six months of wait for two minutes of work...

Therefore, from now on I will be responsible not only for typings and invoices but for the telephone central as well. Liliana, the previous telephone operator, resigned because she had never taken a raise in eight years of work. All colleagues advised me to ask for a raise, which I did. I am still waiting for the boss to answer.

So, here I am now, in a stuffy and noisy reception, which is full of smoke and it doesn't have a window! I have to type endlessly, while the telephone lines ring like crazy. I feel like a fool, but I try not to think about it...

Wednesday, 21st October 1998

The atmosphere at the taekwondo school is getting more and more hostile against me. I feel they can no longer endure my presence in there. Even Maria avoids talking to me. Yet, suddenly someone suggests our going out to a nearby cafeteria after today's lesson (how come?) and I am spontaneously willing to join them. Maybe things are not so bad after all, I think.

There is a little problem, though: I have no money with me. Fortunately, the others seem to be eager to wait for me to go home and bring my wallet -my house is not at all far from here. So, I go home and change clothes hastily, I take some money with me and I return to the taekwondo school – it hasn't taken me more than fifteen minutes in all. The time is already 11:00 at night and we depart in two cars.

We arrive at a nice cafeteria near St Paul church. The party consists of Victor, Maria, me and four others. The place is nice and exotic, with straw umbrellas and fine rock music. We order drinks and we start chatting in a very friendly manner. Yet, I do find this outing kinda strange, after the exhausting taekwondo lesson, while everybody is dripping with sweat; and the others haven't had the chance to change clothes, like I did.

We are still having a pleasant, animated discussion, when someone announces:

"It's too late now! We must go!"

I look at my watch and I see it is only 11:20. Strangely enough, all the others agree it is too late and we had better go.

"But... we have hardly been here for a quarter of an hour! We haven't even finished our drinks!" I protest.

"Alright, let's stay a little longer," says Victor and everybody goes along with that.

Nevertheless, at about 11:25 they all rise from the table and they want to leave at once because "it is too late now". We pay quickly and leave hastily, as if we were chased by hounds.

"Victor will give me a lift; but how will you get home? On foot?" Maria asks me then.

"Victor will take me home first, since I live nearby, and then he will drive you home, to Argyroupolis," I reply calm.

I can't help wondering: There are two cars available, so there is plenty of space for all of us; in any case, why am I the only one who should be left out? And why all that hurry? As if they all had some urgent appointment or something. Detail: Ellie was not with us.

Sunday, 1st November 1998

Shiatsu at the asram of "Spiritual Harmony" in Marcopoulon:

Gently pull your partner's head upwards

Massage the nape, the shoulders and the arms

Massage the nape to the base of the skull with your forefingers

Massage the whole skull

Massage the upper part of the skull with your forefingers

Massage the forehead, the nose, the cheeks, the chin, the ears

Gently pull your partner's head upwards

Touch the skull with your palms; place the two forefingers on the forehead

Close your eyes; concentrate on the light, inhale it, exhale it

Take your hands off the skull slowly; surrender the energy to God.

What an extraordinary, wonderful experience! For the first -and probably the last- time in my life I've had the chance to enjoy a shiatsu session. I would have enjoyed it a lot more if the moron who happened to be my partner didn't keep pressing my head continuously, with all her might! Instead of making me relax, she was hurting me! I complained twice politely, but she kept on squeezing my head like a maniac. Was it really so hard for her to understand that shiatsu pressures are applied gently, not violently? The point is: You are either fortunate or unfortunate in life...

Monday, 2nd November 1998

The atmosphere at the taekwondo school is getting heavier and heavier against me. They don't even deign to talk to me, while they drop certain hints making sure I listen: "We'll be in touch" or "We shall all meet on Friday evening" etc. At a moment, I hear Maria saying to Ellie: "It was wonderful at the club on Saturday! It's been years since I last had such a great time!"

When the lesson was over, Maria shunned exercising the poomse with me – like we've done every time so far. She excused herself she was in a hurry to leave, but she stayed in class for one more hour and exercised the poomse with others, until I left. Who knows what she's heard about me...

As about Nicky, the master, I can see he has no intention of giving me a higher belt. He just ignores me, he doesn't show me the poomse, he doesn't guide me, and when the time of the examinations comes, he will find lots of excuses so as to fail me: "Your leg wasn't bent enough", or "The arm wasn't straight enough" and that sort of thing.

Just like the previous time: At the last moment, just before the exams had started, the master remembered to remark I was not fast enough. I also found out he hadn't showed me some taekwondo forms correctly; I learned I performed them wrong during the exams! He gave me the green belt finally, but with obvious unwillingness and an expression of scorn, as if he were doing me a big favour.

Anyway, I have never aspired to be a world champion in taekwondo, but I hate being a victim of discrimination. Moreover, I suspect I've never gone any higher than the yellow belt: The certificate I have received for the half-green belt says "yellow belt", whereas I was given no certificate for the green belt. Therefore, I believe Nicky makes sure to favour his "circle" of pupils, while the others, the "outsiders", are never meant to progress in taekwondo. The master has been pulling our legs all this time...

In addition, I can't say I am pleased with taekwondo in general: Despite the hard training we do every time, I haven't become much suppler than before – actually I don't think I have become any suppler at all. I admit the muscles of my legs are very well trained, but I can't say the same for the other parts of my body. All things considered, taekwondo is not complete workout, since it disregards the upper part of the body almost entirely. Moreover, in Nicky's school we hardly ever fight -especially us, the "outsiders". After two years of training, I doubt whether I'd be able to defend myself against a tramp in the streets...

Wednesday, 4th November 1998

Once again they got on my nerves at the taekwondo school: They kept staring at me with angry eyes all the time – once or twice I thought they were going to kick me out! After the lesson, when I dared sit on the bench together with the others, Victor asked me ironically: "So, when are you leaving Yvonne?" Next moment Christina repeated the question in the same tone. Then, that whale of her mother began boasting off -as usual: "When I was a bank manager, bla bla, admire me" ... "Before that, I used to work as a doctor, bla bla, worship me" ... "Once I worked as an insurer, bla bla" ... "Now I am the exclusive representative of a multinational company in Greece!"

Once again everybody listened to her agape. Nobody ever questions her, nobody ever shuts her up. The clique is getting larger and larger and everybody is happy because they see new profits coming. Their only problem is how to get rid of me, before I see or hear too much...

Thursday, 5th November 1998

I woke up this morning feeling fed up and wrathful, with a dominant thought in my mind: Evil to evil is good! My inner voice is screaming for revenge and I can no longer ignore it. It is like an initially weak flame, which has become a blaze or an atomic bomb. Enough with all those demons who lurk for me and fight me in every step I take! From now on, if anyone harms me anyhow, I'll make them pay dearly!

What the soul desires is what the soul needs. The obstacles to the fulfillment of a wish are mostly due to visible or invisible hostile forces. The so-called "negative" feelings, such as anger, hatred, sorrow, vindictiveness, are the natural reaction of the soul to such obstacles. Therefore, I had better take such feelings into careful consideration rather than ignore or stifle them.

First of all, I must leave Nicky's taekwondo school. It is no longer possible for me to confront all that concentrated hostility against me every time. I will attend two or three more lessons, until the end of the month, and then I'll stop for good. But! The story won't end here: In one year or so I will make an anonymous phone call to the police and I will tell them there is drug trafficking taking place in Nicky's taekwondo school. It doesn't matter if this is true or not; I am 100% sure that something very suspicious is going on in there...

Later, in the evening, I feel very impatient; I just can't wait so long to do something about it, I want to take action tonight! So, I decide to perform a simple magic ritual recommended to me by my friend Mary Skina -I definitely want to do it: I draw a sketch of Ellie on a piece of white paper, I write her name on it and then I burn the paper with a match. As the flame moves on, I watch the drawn figure burning little by little, until it's all reduced to ashes. In the end I feel relieved, as if Ellie were already eliminated...

Wednesday, 18th November 1998

Ever since I performed the magic ritual mentioned above, Ellie hasn't appeared in the taekwondo school. This evening her husband dropped by and informed us the following: Ten days ago Ellie passed out suddenly while doing the housework. She had to go to hospital for some days so as to have some medical tests, but the doctors found nothing wrong with her.

"Everything will be fine," I reassured him.

"Everything will be fine, until nothing will be fine," he replied sceptical.

Finally, the diva will recover soon and she will be back to her family and to the taekwondo school. A bad dog never dies...

Friday, 20th November 1998

Prophetic Dream: I am in England and I intend to enroll in an English university. Soon I find myself in a campus and I ask aloud: "Which university does Persephone attend?" while performing a magic ritual in the dark, which enables me to send a hostile aircraft against her. At that moment, a tidal wave comes and hits us both slightly.

Verification: Early in the morning my mother is watching a documentary on TV about English universities. In February Persephone will quit her studies in England and she will return to Greece. "The climate disagreed with me," she will vindicate her decision...۩

This morning Mr Gryparis arrived at work together with his three sons aged seven, nine and twelve. As soon as the boys came in, they all gathered around my desk and wanted to have a look at my computer.

"Do you play computer games?" I asked the boys.

"Of course, but not only that!" answered the eldest.

At that moment I heard someone congratulating the managing director on his three sons. Mr Gryparis smiled and said: "Let me tell you, my friend: The more sons you have, the more likely it is that one of them proves to be a poofter! On the other hand, I've never seen an unhappy poofter!"

Saturday, 21st November 1998

I have arranged to meet Mary Glenos outside "Spiritual Harmony" in Marousi at 8:00 o'clock this morning. From there, together with some other disciples, we'll go to the asram of the sect in Marcopoulon, where we shall spend the weekend.

I take a taxi from St Tryfon Square, because I don't want to be late. I begin to worry as soon as I realize that the taxi driver acts the madman and he speeds to the north, beyond Marousi! I urgently ask him to stop and when he finally does so, I find myself in a big avenue, while it has started to rain. I take another taxi and I manage to reach our venue at 8:00 sharp, having paid 2500 drachmas in all, while the others are about to leave without me...

Mary and I get on the car of a classmate, who is good-looking, from the waist up. The poor guy suffers from polio, his legs are wry and atrophied, and he can't walk without crutches. I wonder at his being able to drive; I also wonder at the arrogance he shows soon: He constantly brags about how much money he earns as a mechanical engineer, he says he is estranged from his wife but "who cares about her, I can find lots of women" and he winds up "there are lots of females available, but what is hard to find is a good, serious woman!"

Later, in our room at the asram, I express my disapproval of the bloke's behaviour: despite his condition, he thinks he is gorgeous. Paradoxically, Mary seems to be annoyed:

"Come on, you shouldn't discriminate against the handicapped! Even women doctors marry them! I happen to know a woman surgeon who's married to a completely paralyzed man!"

"That's perversion!" I protest.

"Smart women don't take a man's appearance into account, if they want to get married some day!" retorts Mary.

"Really? I believe that those who mate with cripples are perverts!" I insist.

"You are wrong," she replies with a cunning smile. "In a marriage, the woman offers beauty; the man offers money. As long as he offers money, he is alright even if he is disabled!"

"I wouldn't marry anyone just because he has a lot of money!"

"You don't invest in the future!" concludes Mary irritated, and at that point the discussion is over.

Why does the whole incident strike me as a match-making of a sort? No, thanks, I'll pass...

Later, as I go down the outdoor stairs to the yard, I slip in the rainwater, I fall on the steps and I get a huge bruise on my right hip. I can't help taking this as a sign of fate: as if some invisible force were trying to prevent me from attending the seminar "Reaching higher awareness" which is about to begin.

In general, the asram is perfectly organized and it beams with positivity and calmness. The quiet natural environment, the cultivated people, the vegetarian diet, the interesting lectures and the pious, always calm guru make a pretty attractive package.

Nevertheless, I find it hard to accept some of the teachings: Paul, the guru, rules out the existence of evil and he claims that: "There is no evil, God has created everything in wisdom. What we consider evil, is just a lesson of life" ... "Misfortunes are welcome because they teach us" ... "Life is a mirror: All evil you see around you only reflects a negativity of yours" (translation: the whole world is good and positive; only you aren't).

My soul revolts at such dogmas because I know well our world is far from angelic. Besides, when someone accepts such theories, they are embroiled in a never-ending self-criticism, which should always lead to the same conclusion: "Whatever happens, is my fault."

According to Paul, it is not evil that causes pain; it is our personal convictions, or what we regard as evil. "The human mind is programmed by convictions", says the guru. "Therefore, by changing our convictions, we change our programming; thus, we will be happy with the same things that now make us unhappy!"

"Which means what?" interrupts Michael (isn't he handsome!) "We just replace old convictions with new ones, so as to have a good time?"

Paul nods saying ''that's right'', and I doubt even more about the theories propagandized by sects such as "Spiritual Harmony".

Anyway, I don't think I can follow such a time-consuming and complicated, yet dubious course of self-analysis and self-accusation, pretending not to see anything wrong around me. I can lose neither my time nor my way, so I decide to stop the course of self-knowledge I started a month ago. I think it's not worth the while or the money (25,000 drachmas per month).

"In general, the so-called ''schools of spiritual development'' create people without judgement, without feelings. Judgement gives birth to feelings and in such schools any kind of judgement is forbidden. The absence of judgement stifles feelings, and without feelings a man can't act!" says my friend Urania, when I explain to her all the above. And when someone can't act by themselves, they obey any order they receive from a leader, I suppose...

Sunday, 22nd November 1998

On the other hand, I wouldn't like to lose contact with dance therapy, which takes place in the asram almost every Sunday. As we all dance to the evocative music, we share a strong sense of freedom and joy, without any desire to show off. At a moment, as we dance in a circle, I take a glimpse of a middle-aged woman who has come here with her mongol adult son.

Later, during the break, a middle-aged woman approaches Mary and me and she talks to us about her son: The young man is a genius and he had been studying Astrophysics in America until recently; then he got a strange neurological problem and started to paralyze; within a few years' time, he is due to end up completely paralyzed on a wheelchair. However, thanks to Paul's teachings, this lady has come to consider her son's disease as "a blessing in disguise" or "a lesson of life"!

Another case: A young woman in my class has confided to me she often feels her hands going number and number. "Could it be tendonitis?" I asked. "No, it isn't; I wish it were," she answered with an expression of bitterness.

Take into account the dandy with the polio as well – aren't there too many serious illnesses gathered in "Spiritual Harmony"?

And a pleasant coincidence: Mrs Vivian, the dancing mistress, teaches dance therapy at the Recreation Centre of Glyfada every Monday at 7:00 in the afternoon! That's no further than twenty minutes on foot from my house! And I found that out completely by chance, thanks to a conversation my friend Mary had with her during lunch! Isn't it fantastic? I look forward to joining her class!

Wednesday, 25th November 1998

The same inexorable war is still going on against me at the taekwondo school: Maria had a party on Saturday night and she invited the whole clique, while I had no idea about it. It was Victor who blurted out the secret: "We all had a wonderful time in your party on Saturday, Maria!" he told her, loud enough so that I could hear. I fell from the clouds but said nothing.

Nevertheless, the young lady was pretty friendly with me this evening and she was eager to walk along with me after the lesson was over -which has never happened before.

The die is cast, then. I've had all good intentions of letting it pass and forget all about revenge. Yet, they've lost that chance. Therefore, when the time comes, I will do what I must. Evil to evil is good: (-)(-) = (+)

* * * *

Thursday, 26th November 1998

Mary Skina has proved to be a very good friend – actually she is the only friend I really trust. I can talk to her about all those weird facts happening to me all the time, without being afraid she might misunderstand or disapprove of me. We also discuss various ''forbidden'' subjects such as magic, parapsychology, networks, social injustice etc. She is the only one who listens when I talk, without her putting forward all kinds of stupid objections. She is also the only one who takes into account my wishes: "Tell me, where do you want to go? We'll go wherever you want!" she often says when we meet. In fact, she is the only one who always shows a sincere wish to see me, without the unbearable shilly-shallying of my other friends: "If nobody else calls me, then we'll go out together" (Persephone) ... "I can't meet you this evening, I must mop the floor!" (Louise) ... "I am not in the mood!" (Urania). Every meeting of ours lasts five or six hours and I don't get bored even for one minute.

This time we had lunch at "Neon" in Kolonaki and then we went for a coffee. Six hours passed pleasantly, as we talked about the secret forces which rule the world through magic and witchcraft. Then Mary had the opportunity to narrate some of the odd experiences she's had in her life:

Many years ago, when she was afflicted by all kinds of misfortunes and her mother suffered from severe dementia, my friend decided to seek help from a renowned professional witch. The woman explained she would have to search all over Mary's house for "hidden magic, invisible to the eye". My friend agreed to that and the witch visited her one night. She took off all her clothes and started looking for bewitched items, room after room. She returned from the kitchen walking on all fours, with a big purse hanging from her teeth. When she let it fall down, it proved to be full of strange items such as small scythes, dolls tied up with string, a human skull etc. Mary screamed frightened, but her parents (who, in the meantime, were sleeping in their bedroom) didn't wake up. The witch explained the devil blinds people so that they can't see the bewitched items, even if they are right before their eyes. Then she agreed to break the dark spell which deprived Mary of all good luck and made her mother sick; however, the very next day the witch fell down the stairs and broke her pelvis; she has been on a wheelchair ever since! Mary's mother died a few weeks later, having lost her mind completely, at the age of 62.

Some years ago Mary's mouth started closing gradually, until she could no longer speak or eat! She could only suck liquids through a straw! She saw lots of doctors who told her all kinds of nonsense, but they had no idea what was wrong with her. One of them diagnosed trigeminal neuralgia and advised her to have an operation, but Mary wasn't convinced.

Finally, she went to a priest who specialized in breaking spells; he advised her to lift a red cushion from a chair, so that she could find a piece of bewitched holy bread under it. "But I don't have a red cushion!" Mary wondered, yet the priest insisted. When Mary returned home, she realized she did have a red cushion with black stripes on a chair in the kitchen. She took it in her hands and discovered a piece of dried holy bread under it. She got rid of it at once.

I would rather not believe Mary, but I know she isn't lying. Sometimes she exaggerates but she doesn't lie. Besides, this isn't the first time I've heard stories about magic. In fact, I suspect that what has happened to Mary and her family may as well be happening to lots of unfortunate families. Could it be possible that half of the human population casts spells on the other half?

That was a metaphysics seminar, indeed! Nothing like that rigmarole I hear in various "schools of self-knowledge" which trap your mind, eliminate your judgement, and methodically discourage you from exploring ''forbidden'' subjects such as magic, satanism, networks, invisible forces etc. Real metaphysics is taught nowhere...

Appearances are deceptive: I can see it clearly now; it is my destiny to sink deeper and deeper into the abyss, facing darker and darker forms of evil. As time passes, I will be coming in contact with diverse kinds of evil, as it has now spread all over humanity. And yes, you can fight the system; but you can't fight the satanic forces that lie underneath...

It is often said: as above, so below; only that "above" is the world we live in, whereas "below" is the world of black magic and demons. Behind the everyday reality we experience, there is another plain of existence, which is a lot more filthy and demonic: It is a world made of scythes, lancets, blood, dead body parts, skulls, dolls tied up with string or stabbed with knives.

The whole story goes down to the energy games played by human souls: Success in life is not enough for "smart guys"; the others must be entirely destroyed. A castle in France is not enough for a "smart guy"; the others should be completely homeless. In order to secure that kind of success, certain people use certain means. There are quite a few stories about magic I've heard from various people. Here are some examples:

a) Vanessa -an old friend from Janus- had a friend who suddenly started losing weight and got thinner and thinner every day. The sick woman saw many doctors but none of them could find out what was wrong with her. Finally, she went to Egypt and found a renowned wizard, who broke the black magic spell cast by a cousin of hers. A few months later, her cousin died of leukemia.

b) Louise once knew a woman who, just like the above case, suddenly began to get thinner and thinner -but that one eventually died. A few days later, her mother dreamt of her dead daughter saying: "Please, mother, remove those pieces of coal from the big flower-pot in the yard, because they burn me even here, where I am now!" When her mother emptied the soil from the flower-pot, she found some pieces of coal buried there.

c) Mrs Daphne -Persa's mother- has told me about an aunt of hers who had been wasting away for years, sat on a chair in a corner, her shoulders hunched up. Since there was no reason for her condition, everybody believed she was a psychopath. One day an unknown man knocked on their door. He introduced himself as a gipsy wizard and told them he could see their house was under a black magic spell. The family ruled out that possibility and sought to get rid of him, but the man insisted: "And what's wrong with that round-shouldered woman in the corner over there?" he asked, although he could not see the sick woman from the threshold, where he stood. Finally, he was allowed to break the spell and the woman recovered at once.

d) There was a time when Mary Glenos had very serious family and health problems; her husband was very sick and soon died of cancer. Some days later, she discovered some excrement hidden in a cupboard in her kitchen.

My personal experience includes lots of similar incidents, which I have taken lightly up to now:

i) The broken Easter candle (the wax perfectly cut in two pieces, as if with a knife) my godmother brought me every year, until I was 14 years old. Strangely enough, my parents always let me hold that broken candle during the Easter mass; they never thought of buying me another one. I was an adult when I read in a book of magic that a broken Easter candle is supposed to transfer all good luck from goddaughter to godmother.

ii) Many years ago Mrs Lemony (an old neighbour) brought us some liquid butter in a glass bottle. When the bottle was half-empty, we found a small knitting needle inside! When mother complained to Mrs Lemony about that, she excused herself that it was done by mistake.

iii) During the '70s, we often found broken eggshells dyed dark purple, right outside our front door.

iv) Aunt Wilma's strange visit, just a few days before Jasmine was born in March 1972.

v) On 31st December 1980, uncle Jim -my mother's brother- died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 52. The very next day, Mrs Lemony came and offered her condolences, pretending to be devastated for the loss of a man she hardly knew – since she hadn't spoken to us for years. Detail: A big flower-pot had disappeared from our yard three days before uncle's death; mum had regarded that as a bad omen.

vi) On the day I was to take the Pan-hellenic examination in maths for a second time (June 1982), as soon as I got out of the house I noticed our canary was not in his cage. We had left him out all night, and obviously someone had found the opportunity to take him during the night. Once again, my mother considered the fact as a negative omen. When the time came for me to write, the subjects looked completely alien to me; Eventually I got a 01 in the exam -the worst grade in my whole school life.

So, what has been dogging us since the 70's? My family has been afflicted by all kinds of incredible misfortunes ever since: Jasmine was born a quadriplegic and died when she was five; Alice got married when she was 16, her husband proved to be a bum, she got divorced ten years later, and my parents are almost destroyed financially because of her never-ending needs. As about me, no matter what I do to improve my life, there is never any progress in any field; "rigor mortis", as my friend Mary Skina appositely remarks.

Secrets of power: The co-operation with demonic entities and the use of black magic is the terrible secret of those in power – and it is very well hidden behind the mask of civilization and scientific advances. Nevertheless, during the last decades things are changing dramatically, since more and more people, even from the lower classes, are recruited in all kinds of networks. In the New World Order, which is coming fast, more and more citizens will belong to networks and share such "secrets of knowledge". Paradoxically, in the so-called developed countries the poor are getting fewer and fewer every day.

A great mystery: It is objectively very difficult to control your own family. No matter what you do, you can never be completely sure that your wife won't run away with the baker or that your lovely children won't become drug addicts. You can hardly be sure about what will happen to you the very next day. So, how have the secret rulers of the world managed to keep the whole of humanity under their control for thousands of years? Such a thing is simply impossible and unnatural! It can't be happening, yet it is happening!

How have networks managed to spread worldwide? Nowadays, thanks to the so-called "electronic revolution", their power will soon be absolute. It is a common secret that they use black magic, but what is the ''pact'' which has brought the world into their hands? Which arch-demon has the world been sold to?

Terms and pacts: Beyond all that idle talk regarding the wonders of the human mind, the basic product of humans is rubbish: Every item manufactured in factories usually has a short time of utility; eventually it ends up in some huge rubbish dumb or it is just left somewhere, polluting the environment for hundreds or thousands of years.

Evil spirits are especially fond of negative situations such as misery, illness, pain, torture, mass deaths, environmental pollution, burning of forests, accumulation of rubbish etc, and they are eager to offer mundane power and money to all those who are willing to impose such situations on a world-wide scale.

Forbidden suspicions: Sometimes it occurs to me that the modern technological civilization is actually a work of black magic and demonic entities, aiming at world domination. These dark forces use certain charismatic humans, the so-called "geniuses", as tools. I also consider it possible that all electric and electronic devices function thanks to the intervention of such invisible forces. For instance, electricity could called "spirit This" and electromagnetism could be called "spirit That"...

Saturday, 28th November 1998

This evening I went to a big night club in Athens, together with Helen, Xanthippe and Nineta. I don't really like the artists who sing there, but I agreed to join them just for the sake of company.

As soon as the main door opened, we were among the first who got into the huge room; however, we finally ended up at a table which was at the far end of the dancing floor. Soon the room was so crowded that we could hardly move. Besides, the dancing floor was too small, certain people wouldn't sit down, so it was them who danced again and again. That meant six hours of boredom and immobility for us. I had a good time only during the first hour, when we heard pop and rock songs. The rest of the program consisted of folk songs, which only made me sleepy.

Apart from that: It's been some time now that my friends have estranged themselves from me, while I am getting bored of them. Moreover, our party never gets any bigger; none of them ever introduces a new person. "What kind of people are they? Don't they have any further circle of friends?" Selene wondered once (she said the right thing once in a while). No, they don't. All of them are isolated from society, just like I am. We have nothing to offer to each other. I am only wasting my time with them. Really now, is this how a circle of friends functions? In my sister's circle, for instance, when someone is single for a week, all the others do whatever they can to find her a new boyfriend!

The truth is I enjoy my sister's party a lot more than mine: Milena and Helen come and visit us once in a week, we drink coffee and we chat pleasantly for hours. I certainly prefer their cheerful company to the depressive gawks I usually go out with: Helen can barely help yawning all the time, Nineta is obsessed with a dancing master who has been giving her the cold shoulder for two years now, and Xanthippe always puts forward silly objections to anything she hears. As about me, till when shall I tolerate their whims?

Monday, 30th November 1998

At about 7:00 pm I arrive at the Recreation Centre of Glyfada, with a view to joining the dance therapy class of Mrs Vivian. However, my enthusiasm wanes fast when I find out that the big green door of the dance hall is locked. I look around for a placard or something -in vain. I run upstairs, to the Public Library, I ask the librarian about the dance therapy class, but says he has no idea about it. I don't know what to think about this mystery...

I return home, I phone Mrs Vivian at once, and I ask for an explanation politely. She apologizes for the mess, and then she tells me the following incredible story: She was driving from Piraeus to Glyfada, when the pupil A called her on her mobile phone and said she wouldn't be able to come because she was sick. A few minutes later, the pupil B called and said she wouldn't come either because her son had the flu. Right after, the pupil C phoned and said she had a serious family problem, so she wouldn't come to the lesson. Vivian had almost reached the Recreation Centre, when the student D phoned and said she wouldn't appear either, because of an unexpected visitor. So, since none of her pupils would be present, the dancing mistress had no other alternative but return home.

"I am very sorry you came this very evening and found nobody there," she winds up in a gloomy voice.

"Never mind, I will come next Monday," I answer calm, although I haven't been convinced by the above story.

I will go to the Recreation Centre three more times (that is three successive Mondays), but there is no sign of dance therapy whatsoever; the only thing I find there, is the locked green door. I will ask at the Library again but no one knows anything about Mrs Vivian or her ghost dance class!

So, what kind of machination is that? Obviously, the lady has never taught dance therapy in the Recreation Centre; all this was nothing but a put-up job, organized by Vivian and my "friend", Mary Glenos. What's Mary's game, anyway? Why did the two of them tell me all those lies? What did they expect to achieve? Who can see through the paranoia of networks?

Tuesday, 1st December 1998

This evening I have arranged to meet Selene, who has been in Athens for a few days. Since the beginning of June she has been living in Cyprus, together with Panayotis. However, the poor guy faces certain problems, because Selene often leaves him home alone and goes out with seven (!) boyfriends of hers, all together at the same time, as she admits! The lady is in good terms with Victor as well, who still serves her as a taxi driver any time she is in Athens.

During our outing at a cafeteria in Glyfada, Selene won't stop bragging about her athletic records in Cyprus: She attends a fine taekwondo school, and her master is so enthusiastic about her that he expects her to take a gold medal in the Olympiad of 2000 – although the lady hasn't taken the black belt yet. She also works as an aerobics trainer, however she hasn't set foot in the gym for more than a month because of psychological problems, she says. Before coming to Greece, she was locked in her room for two weeks and refused to see anyone because she was too depressed for that! Why indeed? What was the diva's problem? As about her employer, he showed lots of understanding and told her there is no problem with her absence, and she may return to work any time she likes! What a saint of an employer is that?

After an hour or so, Panayotis arrives at the cafeteria and joins us. I can hardly recognize him! The poor guy must have lost at least twenty kilos! He is a bag of bones and he can barely talk, as if he were more dead than alive! "What have you done to the guy and he's become so thin?" I ask spontaneously, and Selene laughs in a simpering. In the meanwhile, I've begun to find the situation amusing. Once I could have never imagined that the so-called "normal people" are constantly sunk in depression and psychopathy. As about the guys, they are just not men...

Saturday, 12th December 1998

A fateful outing with Nineta, Xanthippe and Helen: Firstly, I didn't like it at all when they all ticked me off because I was twelve minutes late. After all, as soon as I saw the bus wasn't on time, I took a taxi. They are often late, and I usually have to wait for them a lot more than twelve minutes, but I never complain or get angry at them. Then Xanthippe proposed our going to a posh cafeteria in Argyroupolis, and we all liked the idea. Of course, this means I just lost my money and my time trying to be on time in our appointment in Glyfada.

We got in Nineta's car and ten minutes later we were outside the cafeteria. It was very crowded, yet there was a free table at a corner by the window. However, the ladies (especially Xanthippe) didn't like it because it was "kinda secluded". So, we got away and wandered all along the avenue hoping to find a cafeteria which would be appropriate for the duchesses. In another beautiful cafeteria, decorated with stained-glass windows, there was a free table next to the window; yet Xanthippe refused to sit at it – especially when she found out I liked it. We searched and searched in agony all over Argyroupolis, Xanthippe constantly running ahead of us, rushing in and out of numerous cafeterias and restaurants, always crying in dismay: "It's full of youngsters here! Nothing but youngsters!" Detail: Xanthippe is fond of mature men, aged 50 or more.

Finally, we landed up in a pizzeria which was completely empty. There was not a soul in there. We sat at a big wooden table and started chatting nonchalantly; at a moment we talked about the other sex and I expressed the opinion that "most men are boring". At that point Xanthippe looked at me ironically and said: "They are bored of you, too! If only you knew how boring you are!"

I froze at once. The unpleasant surprise soon became anger, indignation, then realization. The others didn't get wind of anything, as if they hadn't heard anything. All at once, I felt like a stranger among them. Suddenly, it was clear to me that our friendship is at its last gasp; we keep going out together only out of habit. Then I began to ignore Xanthippe. I didn't talk to her at all, I didn't even look at her, as if she were non-existent. At the same time, I decided to change some of my plans and I told the others immediately: "Listen, I have just made up my mind: I won't come with you to that night club on New Year's Day. I don't like folk music, and I don't like those singers either!"

Consider this: Just a few minutes ago I was willing to join my "friends" on that outing on New Year's Day. Which means, I was eager to have a rough time all night long, fixed on a chair for about six hours, inside a crowded room full of smoke, so as to watch singers I actually dislike and spend about 30,000 drachmas for it! All this, just because I wanted to be with friends! What friends?

The next two or three times that we meet again, I will maintain the same attitude towards Xanthippe. Soon the lady will understand what's going on and she will appear rarer and rarer, until she is gone for good. On the other hand, I know that countdown has begun for the whole party of ours: When a link is missing from a chain, sooner or later the whole chain falls to pieces. However, there is nothing else to do: This is the natural course of events...

Wednesday, 23rd December 1998

Crisis (once again): The fatigue from work, the discomfort on the bus home, the incessant rain, brought me an apathy, a deep disappointment, as well as certain realizations. No matter what I do, my life always remains the same: the same discomfort on the bus to and from work, which lasts three or four hours every day; I never get a better position at work -on the contrary I'd say; as about my salary, it couldn't be any lower; moreover, ever since I undertook the telephone central, everybody in Pangaea has been treating me like trash; I foretell I will have to leave that job soon; my friends are estranged from me, and I can't stand them anymore; I was kicked out from Nicky's taekwondo school, after it proved to be a network of great calibre; "Spiritual Harmony" is too far away from my house and it's not worth the while; dance therapy at the Recreation Centre of Glyfada proved to be a hoax. For some strange reason, there seems to be no place for me anywhere. There is so much going on around me, however nothing happens for me; actually, everything happens against me. Everything changes fast, so that nothing ever changes for me...

On the other side, I can see that an entire phase of my life is reaching an end and I feel extremely insecure about the next phase which is about to begin. For the time being, I have taken some New Year resolutions: from now on I intend to meditate more often; I will also pursue lucid dreaming and psychic experiences -which I have neglected for some years. I feel the time has come for me to ignore the seductions of the world and take, at last, the path towards the inside...

Chapter 41: War

Friday, 1st January 1999

The new year found me bored to death in Louise's house. There was almost no conversation, while the men of the party (Nondas and Michael, Louise's husband and brother respectively) were doing nothing but watching TV in languor. We didn't even play cards.

About a quarter after the new year had arrived, Hyacinth (Louise's younger sister) withdrew and I wanted to leave too. Michael offered to give me a lift home. When we reached my house, I thanked him and said goodbye; at that moment he put his arm around my waist and sought to kiss me -supposedly for the new year. He has been flirting me for a couple of months now, but I don't feel like reciprocating. It is just that the bloke repels me, and I can't really explain why. He is kinda plump, dark-skinned and he beams with depression; on the other hand, he is a serious and educated guy from a good family.

By the way, I've never heard of Michael having a girlfriend. As about Hyacinth, she is 28 years old now, she is a polite, intelligent and good-looking woman, yet quite lonely. Just like her brother, she used to have some friends once, but now she is completely alone. And she has never been with a man either...

Wednesday, 6th January 1999

Night Adventure: Two adventuresses discover a gang which exploits children. Soon they are chased by murderers around tall buildings. I am one of those women, I fight the enemies with karate blows, but I have a difficulty with side kicks. Finally, both women manage to escape, though still persecuted by enemies.

The women take refuge in a hotel, but a female cyborg is after them. The two friends run into a room; a handsome male cyborg is in there and he helps them by shutting the heavy, iron door behind them. Yet, the female cyborg breaks the lock and she is ready to rush in. At that point, the male robot decides to fight for the two women. There is a lot of confusion, but he finally manages to neutralize the female by hitting her head with an iron bar. Nevertheless, more enemies arrive in a helicopter and they start bombing the place.

The two adventuresses rush out in time through a narrow gap at the door, but then they have to follow separate ways. I go to the showers, and I slide down a kind of crystal waterfall; There are many black people there, and I don't like that. All of a sudden I realize my clothes are dirty, so I take them off and have a bath; then I relax and fall into a friendly conversation with an unknown woman. Suddenly, someone approaches from behind; I recognize my red-haired friend, who is now dressed in a white uniform.

We leave together and we return to the den of the gang, disguised as women of lax morals. However, it's not long before the enemies discover who we are, because of a woman who knows our true identity: it is the one I had seen in the showers. Our fate is hard to foretell, but most probably it is death.

I am another person now and I happen to hear about the above case; I decide to take revenge for the two women by breaking up the gang. So, I go and flirt the chief, who is supposed to be a shop owner. He likes me very much, he is even willing to change the shop's name for me. Soon he is nowhere to see and he is said to have died mysteriously – he was probably murdered, a rumour says...

Thursday, 15th January 1999

Scenes of beauty at work: A certain Mr Costakos phones and asks to talk to Mr Gryparis, the managing director of the company. The latter refuses flatly to be put through, so I have to lie he is absent. Mr Costakos phones again later, I tell him the same; he goes berserk and complains Pangaea refuses to pay him for some texts he has written for the book "Byzantine History". I try to calm him and I promise to convey his message to Mr Gryparis. Nevertheless, the bloke refuses to hang up and shouts that the managers of Pangaea avoid talking to him because they have no intention of paying him (which could be true)!

I guess Mr Costakos is right, however he keeps me busy on the phone for more than half an hour, while the other lines are ringing like crazy. This means I have to interrupt our colloquy all the time, so that I can serve other people too -isn't this a bedlam! In the meantime all colleagues look at me gaily, as I try to solve this impossible case; then, Gryparis frowns at me because he doesn't like some of my answers to Costakos.

As a matter of fact, the managing director has become more critical to me lately, and he is always trying to cause me anguish, while all the other managers demand more and more from me; I do my best to satisfy them, but they never seem to be happy. And they say nothing about a raise...

Saturday, 16th January 1999

Night Adventure: My nephews and I are on the street outside our house and we play a representation of the board game "Hero Quest". Real monsters, which look like dinosaurs, chase us in the nearby neighbourhoods. The roads represent the board of the game, we are the pawns. There are dice too. Interpretation: Maybe we shouldn't play so often that strange game which includes tiny plastic monsters such as dragons, demons, zombies, skeletons and other satanic beasts; or, maybe, I live in a very negative neighbourhood...۩

This morning I had an unexpected phone call from Maria, my ex friend at the taekwondo school: "What's happened to you? Why don't you come to Nicky's school any more?" ... "We miss you!" ... "Why did you leave us? Were you really bored, or is it something else?" ... "Why don't you drop by someday? We'll be happy to see you again!"

She was all sugar and spice! No doubt the clique told her to phone me so as to sound me out on the real reason why I left Nicky's school; or maybe they wanted to see if I know anything about their network. Needless to say, I played possum and all my answers were very polite.

Monday, 18th January 1999

The fraud of knowledge: I had to type a rather lengthy text about "Film direction" at work this morning. I wrote and wrote, then I realized most of the text was incomprehensible; I just couldn't understand what I was typing, as if I were a retard.

The point is that if I wanted to study film direction, I would have to learn this text by heart, as well as a big number of similar texts, entire books of such texts. If I couldn't memorize them (which is natural), I would fail in my studies. But how can you memorize a text which is full of obscure terms and meaningless details, while it lacks cohesion? Most educational books are written like that on purpose, so as to confuse students and give them the impression they are too stupid to learn anything.

Educational books are supposed to provide people with knowledge, yet all they do is isolate the reader from real knowledge, which is gained by personal experience. Those who have the right "connections", get all the needed information at first hand, without losing their heads in meaningless, endless rigmarole. The others, those who lack ''connections'', waste the best years of their lives cluttering their minds with all kinds of useless information, which is immediately forgotten after the "exams". If they ever manage to graduate, it will be impossible for them to find a job commensurate with their qualifications.

Since early childhood, you always hear that "you don't know this or that" ... "you are ignorant" ... "you are of limited potential", so "you must gain knowledge" from certain "experts". Therefore, you must spend the best years of your life in various kinds of "schools", where "experts" will provide you with the "correct knowledge" you ought to have. And woe is you if you don't study enough or if you question the "experts"...

It is generally admitted that "schools" (educational centres, universities, gyms, dance schools, centres of spiritual development and so on) don't convey useful knowledge that could be helpful in real life. They just tempt you with various "prizes" – which are impossible to get unless you join their inner circle and serve their purposes. The offered courses usually consist of shallow information, suitable only for a display of superiority to the "those outside", who are "inferior" and "ignorant". The majority of students are deliberately kept in a state of ignorance, while they are systematically given the impression of being unworthy. As about the really important knowledge, it is offered only to the "few and chosen ones", to the core of the clique. Those students who are found to be inappropriate for networks, they are constantly brain-washed and sabotaged by teachers and other students, so that they feel inferior, incapable of learning, complete losers – before they are methodically driven away.

All kinds of schools are nothing but recruitment centres for networks. Their basic purpose is to recruit citizens in all types of cliques and rackets; they also exert mind control, since they impose the worship of authority, while they discourage personal judgement.

Only personal experience can offer essential knowledge. In the journey to knowledge, you can trust only yourself. There will be some mistakes, detours, deviations or delays, but it is better to make your own errors and learn from them, than be a victim of other people's errors or intrigues.

Monday, 25th January 1999

This morning we had some bad news about Josef's health: The microbe is still active, his thighbone has been affected even more and he will have to be operated on in a month. Why doesn't anything good ever happen to our family?

Moreover, I was informed by Vera, an assistant accountant of Pangaea, that I am not going to get a raise despite all the extra work I have undertaken since October. Nevertheless, Andromache (the boss's executive secretary, who has no computer skills, speaks lousy English but she is an eager informer), just got a raise of 60,000 drachmas! I've been feeling outraged all day today! Even my sister, who is an illiterate chamber maid in a hotel, gets a higher salary than me!

"Which means, Yvonne, they don't appreciate what you do for them in there", Helen Tanagra commented when I told her all about it on the phone.

Anyway, my mother advised me to refrain from hasty reactions and ask for a raise again next week, in a polite manner. This is what I intend to do.

Monday, 1st February, 1999

Once again I try to respond to a cascade of phone calls, when suddenly Chris (one of our editors) comes to my desk and confides to me the following: The book "World History in Brief", which has come out lately, must be withdrawn from bookstores because it is full of misprints -and they found out too late! He shows me the book, I leaf through it for a few moments and I see there are -indeed- countless mistakes in every single page!

"But how is this possible? The typed texts I've given you were flawless!" I wonder.

"Yes, but the printer's typist, who had to retype our texts, put her foot in it!" explains Chris.

"Why did she have to retype them? Didn't you give floppy discs to the printer?"

"No, we didn't give any floppy discs!" he replies sharp and goes away.

Incredible but true. This blunder will cost millions of drachmas, as well as a nasty ridicule to Pangaea.

Later on, Mr Gryparis summons all editors in his office, Chris included – since he was responsible for the above book. For about twenty minutes I can hear nothing but low voices behind the closed door. As far as I understand soon, none of them will have any consequences for the whole fiasco. All those editors, with their high positions and tidy salaries, come out of the managing director's office smiling, calm and carefree.

Nevertheless, whenever I make the slightest mistake in some idiotic letter, Gryparis gets ironic and offensive towards me. Moreover, even the most insignificant error of mine gets known by everybody in the company in no time. I know that, because some irrelevant colleague will always come and drop me a hint. Conclusion: The only thing that doesn't matter to a company is work...

Wednesday, 3rd February 1999

The whole situation at work since yesterday: Everybody has been deviously deriding me, making allusions to my supposed inability to operate the telephone central, let alone malevolent innuendos such as: "Yesterday I left my silver ring in the kitchen for a minute and someone stole it! Have you seen it Yvonne?" Nelly told me at a moment.

Undoubtedly, the subtle war against me has escalated ever since I was naïve enough to show I have understood whose fault the fiasco of "World History in Brief" is. In the meanwhile, telephone lines are ringing like crazy, I am up to the neck in typing, the place is full of smoke and lots of people are coming and going, always shouting around me. Can things get any worse?

Thursday, 19th February 1999

Inner scream: After a night meditation, I was overwhelmed with negative thoughts and feelings: sorrow, indignation, injustice, disgust, vindictiveness and insomnia till 4:00 am, the focal point being the new circumstances of my job. No matter how hard I've tried to think reasonably (good jobs are too hard to find, in other companies things are even worse, salaries are very low in general, and so on) and appease my feelings lately, it finally proved to be impossible for me to ignore the screams of my inner voice.

The truth is there is too much concentrated hostility against me in this company: My workroom looks like a prison, it is full of smoke and people who shout all the time around me, repetitive telephone rings that would exasperate a saint, subtle irony in the mask of paranoiac demands, no raise, no prospects. Moreover, my dear colleagues do whatever they can so as to show me I am nothing but rubbish – especially now that I have undertaken the telephone central.

During those three and a half months that I've been in my new post, I have shown efficiency, adaptability, politeness, willingness, reliability – I could say I am perfect in my job. In vain, though: If there is one thing employers are not at all interested in, this is good work – otherwise "World History in Brief" wouldn't have come out full of misprints.

Besides: Pangaea has published no more than 120 books in thirty years, yet it is still considered to be one of the major publishing houses in the country! They have spread the rumour of facing financial problems recently, yet this can't be true since they intend to hold a very expensive reception for the presentation of the book "The Unknown History of Christianity" which is expected to come out next year. I have no idea who's pulling whose leg and why...

I must get out of there as soon as possible, because this kind of environment has a very negative influence on my soul! I can no longer be a helpless victim! I just can't go on like this! Starting from tomorrow, I will fight against the evil of work, in a methodical manner: a) I will block any telephone lines I can, b) I will delay connections using excuses such as "He is not here now", or "He is speaking on another line at this moment", or I shall leave them on ''hold'' for some minutes. c) While typing, I will no longer correct the writer's mistakes – like I've done so far, hoping to get a medal or something. d) As for the rest: Smile, laughs, joy! I feel better already...

Friday, 20th February 1999

This afternoon I had a heated conversation with my friend Urania, regarding evil and forgiveness. I expressed the opinion that

"Evil should by no means go unpunished. Forgiveness is complicity to a crime. Moreover, in the end it makes you feel contempt for yourself. When someone harms you, you ought to get even with them!"

"This is natural! You will get sick unless you do so!" said Urania.

"Nevertheless, this should be done only after enough time has passed, and in such a way that the evil won't suspect who harmed them and what for. That's why we say that revenge is a dish best served cold!"

"Forgiveness is unnatural! Revenge is balance!" concluded Urania and I couldn't agree more...

Shrove Monday, 22nd February 1999

Night Adventure: I visit a strange shop where small birds are bred; they never grow any bigger and they are destined to be pets. Despite my initial hesitation, I decide to buy one, since the little birds seem to have no future in that shop.

Soon I discover there is a secret organization using that shop as a cover; they believe in magic and they convey positive principles to the next generations. They don't eat meat and they avoid doing any evil. The superior caste are witches, who protect all the others without oppressing them or enjoying any special prerogatives.

The organization uses a huge tower as their seat. However, the biggest part hasn't been built yet; only one and a half out of four designed floors have been constructed. When the tower is complete, most of it will be underground. The largest department of the underground building will be the library, which will convey essential knowledge to the next generations. The quarters of the witches will be at the lowest floor, so that they are protected from the nuclear holocaust which is due to happen in the future. I can feel everyone is sincere here and I wish to live with them...۩

Imagination = Reality: It's so many years I've been exploring the real world in search of the truth, yet all I have found is fraud. Mental anguish is born when we identify ourselves with everyday life. Nevertheless, imagination and dreams are real life. The worlds of dream and imagination are true. The so-called "everyday reality" is a lie.

It is an indisputable fact that at the end of the day (life, reality) we feel empty and tired. At the the of the night (dreams, imagination) we feel rejuvenated, full of energy. When we experience everyday reality, our mind can't roam fast; on the contrary it is compelled to function as slowly as possible, so that it can be controlled not only by us, but by society as well.

When we dream, our mind is free from the bonds of "reality" and it roams about the astral plane at top speed. While dreaming the brain functions normally, as if it received stimuli from natural experiences – and this has been proved in scientific laboratories. However, scientists haven't discovered yet what sleep exactly is, nor why we need it so much...

Saturday, 27th February 1999

This morning I had an unexpected phone call from Persa: To my astonishment I heard her say she came back to Greece two days ago, having left University in England for rather mysterious reasons: "The climate disagreed with me," she said. After the initial surprise, I showed a friendly mood and advised her to become a teacher of English, while trying to hide the wild satisfaction I felt as soon as I heard the news!

Really now, didn't it ill become Persephone to act the heavy swell with University, thanks to her big money and special connections? How would she ever be able to study in England, since she couldn't graduate from high school in Greece due to serious psychological problems? It seems that in certain cases networks can't guarantee success...

Sunday, 28th February 1999

Prophetic Dream: I take part in an odd computer game and I find myself moving inside its cyberspace. I pass through various gates which lead to other places or levels, according to the respective Tarot cards. Verification: As I will find out soon, a similar computer game really exists! ۩

Early in the morning we prepared Josef for hospital. Then Alice and I had breakfast together; there was gloom in an air, but the child looked calm and quiet. At a moment he came near me and sprayed some carnival foam on me. A little later we went out, to the veranda, until it was time for my sister and nephew to leave.

Eventually the operation will be postponed for a week because Josef has a cold. Moreover, mum is sick: her back and right leg ache a lot due to a slipped disc and she must stay in bed for a couple of days. Once again, everything combines against us...

Tuesday, 2nd March 1999

Drums of War: I begin to know "evil" and it fascinates me. My mind has started to work differently and I like this. I don't feel like a victim any more. In addition, I experience an unprecedented inner balance: until recently, that I was "righteous" and "good" (a sucker), I was easily hurt because the others harmed me at any offered opportunity, while I felt helpless and unable to defend myself effectively.

Nevertheless, ever since I changed my way of thinking and began to sabotage them secretly, whatever they do or say to me no longer bothers me because I know sooner or later I will get even. Their offensive remarks sound ridiculous now: So, Mr Manager, you are in a bad mood because I didn't interrogate that bloke on the phone? But I hardly answer the phone, you mean little man! I think and smile to myself.

The fact is that "good to evil" leads to practical and psychological dead-ends. On the contrary, "evil to evil" offers spontaneous satisfaction and equanimity. When I manage to defend myself or pay back for the evil done to me, injustice doesn't depress me so much. On the other hand, when I am "a good girl" and stoically endure all kinds of maltreatment without reacting accordingly, I feel awful and I end up hating myself. It is only natural...

In general, "bad" people are more cheerful and lively, and they have more self-confidence; as about "good" people, they are often unbalanced and miserable because they feel like poor victims, passively waiting for others to harm them -like sheep destined to be slaughtered. Moreover, they often feel guilty because they usually don't manage to forgive and love their enemies -as it is dictated by religions.

Saturday, 6th March 1999

Josef had an operation on his leg three days ago. There were metal blades implanted, but no bone was cut off; the surgeon just brought the head of the thighbone in its place. This means the boy won't have a limp, as we feared. Nevertheless, they have put him in plaster from the chest down.

Early in the morning, mum and I went to the Children's Hospital to spend the weekend with Josef. Alice can't stay sleepless one more night, while the child is in a miserable condition: The plaster itches him all over his body and it burns him a lot on the butt; the boy is in pain, shouting and crying all the time. Every now and then we help him lie prostrate and we scratch him or put some ice cubes on his butt. At least, he seems to be better than the previous days, when he cried and screamed continuously, day and night. When night fell, we gave the child some sedative and he slept for almost nine hours. That was unhoped-for...

Sunday, 7th March 1999

Josef still suffers, while the nurses show an impressive indifference -if not malignity; let alone they are puffed up with conceit, even more than the doctors. Finally, after certain complaints I made, they agreed to cut off some of the plaster on Josef's butt and the child was relieved a little. He is still whining, but he is getting better and better.

Lots of people came and saw Josef today: First, Alice's colleagues from "Blue Rose"; then our cousins George and Damian with their families; a little later the surgeon appeared and wanted to see how the child was. He complained a little about the crowd, but he seemed to be a nice and positive person.

In the beginning I was depressed by the atmosphere in the hospital. However, as hours went by, I experienced a strange sense of adaptability. In the end, I didn't even mind staying longer! Therefore, everything is relative: When you are in a hospital for many hours or days, going to the toilet looks like fun! When you go out for a walk in the yard, that's a spree! In any case, sooner or later we adapt ourselves to the surrounding environment, no matter what it is like. Personally, I prefer the gloomy environment of a hospital to a workplace!

Monday, 8th March 1999

It is Woman's Day today; Nineta, Helen, Xanthippe and I have arranged to go to the taverna "Cavern" in Sourmena. The environment proves to be very pleasant, and the impressive decoration reminds of a cavern: There are stalagmites and stalactites made of expanded polystyrene foam, lots of mirrors and special effects, talented singers with a large repertoire of folk and modern songs, a wide variety of good food. Tonight the place is full of women who are having a wonderful time, singing, dancing and saying ribald jokes -me and my friends included.

I was sitting comfortably at my table, when I turned to the left and saw that a young woman, two tables away, was staring at me. I recognized a vixen I often saw when I went to the gym. Just like she often did then, she was now looking at me full of irony and malice, constantly making faces at me. I tried to ignore her but there she went on her hobbyhorse! She ignored her big party -eight women in all- so as to make fun of me! Aren't people crazy!

I stopped looking at the vixen and crossed my arms with the elbows on the table. Every now and then I gave her the open palm under the table – a fast and accurate gesture, discreet but well-aimed. About a quarter of an hour later, when I had a look at her table again, I was surprised to find out all eight women were gone! Their table was completely empty, while it was about midnight and the party was at full swing. I felt relieved and cheerful...

We left the taverna at 3:00 am, when the music program was almost over. I was feeling wonderful, so were my friends. As I got out, on the street, I saw the handsome lead singer standing by the door. I said goodbye and he asked us if we had liked the program.

"It was excellent," I assured him.

"I am glad you had a nice time," he smiled.

Wednesday, 10th March 1999

I have often been disappointed by schools of spiritual development up to now, however I am always willing to try something new. So, this afternoon I attended a lecture on self-knowledge somewhere in Kolonaki.

The well-dressed, middle-aged ''guru'' called Costas Sekeris, didn't convince me at all. He talked about various platitudinous subjects such as reincarnation, karma, love which beats karma and so on. As about the listeners, about ten in number, they were all over fifty, ugly or weird. The atmosphere was heavy, repellent. I noticed a plump, disagreeable, slimy guy, about fifty-five; he wore his white hair in a greasy plait and didn't take his eyes off me even for a moment. As soon as the lecture was over, I hit the road.

Friday, 12th March 1999

Early in the morning I got a phone call from Mary Glenos at work and she asked me about Sekeris, if I liked him etc. Then she announced happily the following: She bumped into an old acquaintance of hers on the road yesterday, whom she hadn't seen for years. They talked and talked, and she soon found out he had attended Sekeris' lecture on Wednesday, where he noticed a beautiful tall woman whom he liked a lot and he wished to introduce to a friend of his! Mary told him that woman was probably me, since I had informed her I would attend a lecture of Sekeris within this month.

Finally, Mary proposed our going out to a taverna one night, all four of us. In the beginning I was willing, then I started making questions:

"Who old is the would-be groom?"

"He is about fifty, like my friend, but he is more handsome. He has got neither protruding tummies nor a plait..."

"By the way, who was that acquaintance of yours who saw me in the lecture? Was it a fat, nasty guy with a white plait?"

"Oh, don't criticize him like that! He is a very remarkable person! It's just his appearance that makes a bad impression! I have told him so many times! ''Your slovenly appearance cuts a poor figure'' I told him again, yesterday. He has a heart of gold, you know!"

"By the way, isn't there a young, handsome, interesting man you could introduce me to?" I asked but she refrained from answering.

Mystery No 1: I've lied to Mary that I have a love affair with an imaginary, nice guy. Nevertheless, she insists on introducing me to the aged friend of her aged friend.

Mystery No 2: Athens has a population of five million people. There were about ten persons in the lecture of Sekeris. Mary says she bumped into one of those ten, the most disgusting of all, the one who was giving me the glad eye during the whole lecture! What is the statistic possibility of something like this happening? Isn't this a miracle? Let's get serious: Mary knew I would go to a lecture of Sekeris on a Wednesday in March, and she made sure her "old acquaintance" would be there too...

Mystery No 3: From now on, that obnoxious guy will appear pretty often in Glyfada, usually at the bus stop where I wait for the bus to work every morning. He will never talk to me or bother me anyhow -strange, though...

Conclusion: All sects and schools of metaphysics are covers for suspicious networks and Mary Glenos is involved with them up to the hilt! She is connected to many sects without actually attending any of them, and she is always trying to involve me in any of them: Every time we meet, we always "happen" to drop by some sect because she wants to say hello to certain old friends, as she says; then she makes sure to introduce me to all gurus and receptionists. Let alone the fiasco with the dance therapy. In two words, Mary Glenos is a deceitful person I had better avoid....

Saturday, 13th March 1999

This morning my friend Urania and I went to a seminar on crystallotherapy in "Spiritual Harmony". We talked about the healing power of crystals, which can restore the balance of the seven chakras, and it proved to be much more interesting than I had expected.

The lecturer used a quartz crystal pendulum. By holding it motionless above the chakras of a lying person, the quartz crystal makes a circular movement if the chakra is balanced; if there is a problem with the chakra, the crystal moves to and fro.

When she tried it on me, it was revealed that my chakras are quite balanced, since the pendulum always made circular movements. My "third eye" is pretty strong, and the chakra of the neck (creativity) is the strongest of all.

When Urania's turn came, all her chakras proved to be unbalanced, since the quartz crystal always moved to and fro. While hanging above the two chakras of her head, the pendulum didn't move at all. This means that Urania is a rather disturbed person – probably because of her bad marriage and divorce.

In the end we were offered some crystals to our liking. I chose a big pink quartz stone, which means a certain subject affects me a lot -that is work, what else? A light brown stone with a white circle formed on it shows that a circle of my life is reaching an end, disturbing the chakra of the solar plexus (emotions). It also means my life has taken a bad, dead-end path for years now and for this reason I need tranquility...

Sunday, 21st March 1999

Night Adventure: Together with other people, I am inside a satellite which orbits the earth. However, the night sky looks weird: I observe various buildings and landscapes which seem to be upside down in the concave sky – as if the earth were a hollow sphere where mountains, seas, plains, cities, are all in the interior of the planet, not in the exterior. During the day everything looks normal, as the sunlight conceals the truth. Is it possible that scientists have been lying to us about the earth and the universe? I wonder.

Lucid Dream: I walk in the streets of a village and I ask myself: How will I succeed in life? Next moment, a strange talisman appears in my hand. It has the shape of a disc separated in twelve sectors, and there is a different picture on each one of them. Each picture represents a field of human life: family, work, love, money etc, and there is a plastic demonic figure standing on each sector. All twelve figures are repulsive: they look like ugly black mice with big red tongues stretched out. I don't like the talisman, I don't want to take it. Next moment, I find a small envelope in my hands; inside it there is a debit or credit card...

Interpretation: The realization of serious ambitions in the material world presupposes the alliance with dark forces. However, my soul refuses to enter into an alliance with such forces, even if this means I will fail in life. Besides, these spirits don't offer real power: their figures are "plastic" and they actually make fun of the holder -since their tongues are stretched out. The round disc, separated in twelve sectors, surely corresponds to the twelve houses of the Tarot. Every field of human life is controlled by a specific demonic entity. Moreover, something fishy is going on with all kinds of debit or credit cards...

Monday, 22nd March 1999

Mr Tsamados (a 70-year-old University professor) arrives at work smiling, with a bunch of red roses in hand: He offers three flowers to me, five to Mary Bonanos and the rest of them (about twenty) to Andromache -like he does every morning.

A little later, he starts making offensive remarks regarding my clothes – today I am wearing blue jeans and a colourful blouse. "Certain women come to work dressed as peasant harvesters, whereas Andromache is very elegant in her gray costume!" he says and gets on my nerves. Isn't he an old gossip! By the way, Mr Tsamados and Andromache (who is 25 years younger than him) are always dallying with each other. Are they going steady or what?

The day proves to be rather tiring and exasperating: The phones ring continuously, some people keep me on the line for a lot of time saying nonsense, Mr Gryparis refuses to talk to certain persons and I have to appease them by telling lies such as ''he will call you back soon'', ''he isn't in his office at this moment'', etc. Hours pass and I can't find the time to go to the toilet; none of those harlots who happen to be my colleagues can sub for me for two minutes, because they are all "too busy", as they say. I won't hesitate to complain to Nelly (who is said to be Mr Spyropoulos' mistress) about that: "I remember, when Liliana used to work here, everybody was eager to sub for her and keep the telephone central, not only for two minutes but for an hour or so!" – so the star had all the time she needed to drink coffee with her dear colleagues. "Have you been to the toilet yet?" Nelly asks me ironically, some hours later. I certainly haven't. Right then, I stand up and run to the toilet without leaving anyone in my position. This is what I will do from no on...

Tuesday, 23rd March 1999

Another day in paradise: The telephone lines ring like crazy and there is nobody on some of them; other lines, which are supposed to be idle, ring and ring although their light isn't on and nobody talks when I answer the phone. At about noon, Gryparis' wife calls -once again- and complains no one answers when I put her through to her husband.

Pretty soon I find out the whole company knows about that, since everybody comes and throws out certain innuendos against me. "If you had tried some more lines, you would have found the correct one!" Andromache says arrogantly and disappears in her office. At that point, I stand up at once and disappear into the toilet, while the phones are still ringing madly! Andromache has to run and pick up the receiver, mumbling: "How can one work in here?"

This can't be happening; maybe they have "affected" the telephone central somehow, so that non-existent lines ring continuously... or, perhaps, they have various people phone me every minute, without any reason, just because they want to get on my nerves... I begin to suspect.

In the evening I go out with Mary Glenos and tell her all about my recent adventures at work. To my great surprise, she takes the bosses' side immediately: "You see how they make each one of you do the work of two or three persons, so that they have more profit? This is natural, you know: A businessman wants to earn as much as possible!" ... "In some European and American factories workers have to wear diapers during their shift, so that they never leave their post to go to the toilet! In this way, not even a minute of work is lost!" I was taken aback by that statement. Is it possible that such monstrosities take place in modern companies? I think it is...

Friday, 26th March 1999

Modern concentration camps: The 38-year-old Christina, who works in the Sales Department, comes to my desk at a moment; we chat a little and she informs me she is about to get fired: "Where shall I find another job now, at my age, with two children? Bosses demand you don't grow up, you don't have children..."

Work and education block human energy: Just when a person reaches their prime, they have to enter the arena of work, where everything is a foul play. All their energy is blocked in boring, tedious, repetitive tasks and slavish behaviour. Soon they find out that if they want to succeed, they must be cunning and deceitful, sabotage their colleagues and lick the boss's boots. Work makes human beings inhuman.

Workplaces (offices, laboratories, stores, factories) are usually stuffy, depressing, muddy dungeons, deprived of sunlight and fresh air. Moreover, there is this paradox: Managers and supervisors are often incompetent, useless, yet very expensive bibelots. Low-paid workers and employees are those who actually work and run the company, while conspiring against each other continuously, from dawn till dusk. Nevertheless, the company grows bigger and bigger!

The system allows no latitudes for reaction: The starvation salary I receive from Pangaea is legal, and it is legal for the employer to charge me with as many tasks as he likes. There is no limit to that. At the same time, there is terrible unemployment out there which is getting worse and worse, year after year. Moreover, you can't find even the humblest job unless you pull some strings. Nowadays if you don't belong to a network, you don't eat.

"Be fruitful and multiply": After all what I've known and experienced so far, how good is it to have children? Well, if someone finds true love at a very young age, when they haven't seen anything in life yet, then it is natural to get married and procreate. However, when a person reaches a certain age, when they have seen the misery, rottenness and evil which prevail everywhere, then it is a real crime to bring a soul in this world.

Let's see what is in store for the great majority of people on earth: Supposing they escape the worst kinds of pain and suffering (famine, incurable diseases, war -which afflict about three fourths of humanity today), they will be obliged to spend the best hours of their day (from 9:00 to 5:00) and the best years of their lives (from 20 to 65) at work. This means the average "civilized" person has to waste almost all his/her life performing boring, unpleasant, exasperating tasks in a competitive (if not hostile) environment – and they will consider themselves very lucky if they ever manage to find a permanent job. In fact, the biggest bugbear in the world today is "unemployment": lack of work.

In a society which is getting more and more competitive, while networks are expanding day after day, sooner or later all human beings become monsters -if they wish to survive. Work perverts mind and soul. In such a society, when a child grows up, he/she will have two alternatives:

a) To become a monster, b) To be devoured by monsters.

Question: Why do most people (employees, workers, slaves) look forward to having children?

Answer: The "system", created by the wealthy and the powerful, favours patriarchy because it serves perfectly the interests of plutocracy. Thanks to the institution of family, the elite gets: a) uncountable cheap workers who work eagerly for decades, from generation to generation, making the rich always richer, and b) discouragement of possible rebels: When you have children, you don't dare move; you won't quit your job, for example, no matter how awful it is. Neither will you dare not join a network – otherwise there will be certain consequences, not only for you but for your children as well. When you have a family, the "system" binds you hand and foot.

On the other hand, the poor are constantly bombarded by certain indisputable principles urging them to procreate proudly: "Why aren't you married at this age? Is anything wrong with you?" ... "It is a shame not to have children" ... "Why are you still single? Are you impotent or something?" ... "Having children is the meaning of life" ... "If you don't have children, you don't have a reason to live" and so on. Naturally, nobody ever wants to hear such things said to them. Childlessness has always been the worst nightmare for the poor. Within the human society, a serial killer is more respectable than a childless person.

Anyway, if I ever had to say to my twenty-year-old child: ''Listen, dear; I love you, I adore you, but we are poor, so you have to go and work in a fast food restaurant, a factory, an office, a shop, anywhere, for the next forty years of your life", I would rather strangle him/her with my own hands...

Saturday, 27th March 1999

I am at "Jackson's Hall" in Kolonaki, together with Mary Skina. The cafeteria is full of young people, it has a nice wooden decoration, there are tables on the balcony and pleasant pop and rock music. Our conversation, which lasts more than three hours, proves to be very enlightening, as I confide to Mary the following: My sister looks down on me and she acts the diva; my mother obeys Josef blindly, making at least two lunches every noon, just for him; from 4:30 to 5:30 pm, right when I lie in bed and try to relax a little, my nephews raise the roof with their incessant comings and goings, shouting and making a din, but nobody ever tells them anything.

"I understand... Your life is shit: Gryparis despises you and refuses to give you a little raise; men despise you because you don't behave like a whore; your mother despises you because she is obsessed with Josef; you sister despises you and makes sure everybody cares about her..."

"But I can't say that they have ever caused me any serious harm!" I retort, wondering at Mary's way of thinking.

"A little harm here, a little harm there, there is nothing left for you, my dear!"

I stay silent, acknowledging she is right.

"There is no joy in your life, that's why you seek happiness in lies such as meditation, crystals, yoga, and that short of thing. People like us live in lies" she winds up chagrined.

Once again, I can see her point: Indeed, I resort to such activities (meditation, lucid dreaming, seminars of metaphysics, yoga etc) so as to restore the inner balance I would get if I had a husband, two children, enough money, a successful career, a satisfactory social life.

"However, the strangest thing is that I have succeeded in this: I am more balanced than most of those who have all the above," I reply thoughtful.

"That's true!" Mary agrees spontaneously. "Remember all those super successful editors in Pangaea, who always complained about migraines and psychological problems? All the well-fucked and the well-to-do suffer from chronic migraines or depression, and they can't sleep at night unless they gulp down a big number of sedatives!"

Chapter 42: Last Hopes

Friday, 2nd April 1999

Prophetic Dream: My sister's husband comes and takes me to the city of Ioannina, where Alice is. We walk to the lake and we swim in there for a while; suddenly, a black cloud covers the sky. Far away, in the horizon, there is a long line of smoke emerging from the water. I know bombs will fall soon and we flee in time. Verification: In the evening we hear on TV News that a toxic cloud is coming from Serbia to Greece soon, because Serbia is being bombed by Americans...۩

After work I went to a big import company near Victoria Square, where I bought fine and cheap covers for my sofa and armchairs. Then I discovered a small shop nearby, which deals in strategy and fantasy games. The strange items in the shop-window arrested my attention and I entered the shop like hypnotized. I had a careful look at everything (role playing games, card games, board games, all of them unusual and impressive) and finally I bought a card game called Esoterra. The packet contains 60 cards divided in two decks. Why did I do that? I just wanted to try something new...

Easter Sunday, 11th April 1999

My dear nephew John and I took our bikes and went cycling along the beaches of Glyfada. We rode past the funfair and we reached the motorcycle speedways. We arrived at a beautiful, quiet, isolated place by a serene small wharf. There were nice purple spring flowers all around; I picked up two of them and decorated my bicycle.

John led me along a narrow path by the cliffs. It was a little dangerous, I thought twice before following him, but I went on. On our way back I discovered another path along the coast, which was wider and safer, so I could enjoy the natural environment to the fullest.

We returned home riding up the road that skirts the airport. It was a little tiring but it was fun. When we reached Iasonidou street, we got off our bikes and walked home, tired but happy.

That was one of the most joyous experiences in my life and it is not meant to be repeated ever again: Just one week later, John will no longer be the innocent, carefree child I've known: as if grown up suddenly, he is a typical adolescent now – not at all interested in cycling with his aunt anymore. Starting from next Sunday, he will begin to invite about a dozen of friends in the half-finished apartment right above my head, and they will make incredible trouble all day long, almost every day...

Thursday, 15th April 1999

This evening Persephone paid me a visit and I had the bright idea of trying the card game Esoterra with her. In the beginning my friend wasn't in the mood for playing, but when we got the hang of the game, she was enthusiastic about it. So was I.

Soon Esoterra proves to be a very exciting game, as it seems to be intended to convey metaphysical knowledge and great truths, mostly in an unconscious level. When I play, I feel myself experiencing another reality, where everything (wondrous creatures, beautiful landscapes, magic and enchantments, extraordinary artifacts) serve one main purpose: the perpetual battle between Good and Evil. Every moment of the game is a strong, inner delight. Whether I win or lose, is of no importance. What counts most to me is the sense of freedom and awareness this game offers...

Friday, 16th April 1999

Night Adventure: I am in the Land of the Dead. The place is empty and foggy, with an ochre atmosphere. Some women appear are near and I tell them:

"You are dead, I am alive."

"So, what?" one of them retorts calm...۩

Maybe it isn't wise of me to worry about any "fellow-man" who seems to be unhappy. By the way, who ever worries about me? For instance, I feel sorry about Josef who is sick now and I spend my afternoons with him, because he needs company.

However, when I pretended taking a bank note from him -I just wanted to joke- he flew off the handle and sought to get out of bed so as to strangle me, although he is still in plaster! "Don't get him wrong, he is just a kid!" my mother excused him at once. I don't think I get him wrong at all...

Now I sympathize with Josef, because he is in such a miserable condition; however, I can foresee that fifteen years after, when the adventure with his health will have been forgotten and he will have begun to ascend in society, he will put on airs. Anyway, he already has all the needed qualifications to be accepted in networks and succeed in life: He can't stand being second in anything; nothing is sacred to him, he does whatever it takes to achieve his purposes; he would sell his own mother for money -he admits it himself...

Sunday, 18th April 1999

This afternoon, my friend Helen Tanagra and I went to a big hotel in Athens, where an exposition of fantasy games takes place these days – at least this is what I read in a big magazine. Yesterday, when I phoned the hotel and asked about the exposition, the telephone operator hummed and hawed, she left me on the line for a while and then she told me: "I don't know anything about that!"

Finally, as we were informed at the reception, something like that does place in the fourth basement of the hotel (it couldn't be any lower!). When we got out of the elevator, we were surprised to hear a lot of hubbub in the corridor. We walked past a security guard who looked at us full of curiosity and, as soon as we entered the vast room, we saw hundreds of youngsters who were playing devotedly a card game, probably Esoterra.

So, there was a fantasy games tournament held down there, but there was no exposition. When we approached, the guy at the desk seemed kinda worried, he didn't even ask us what we wanted, while suddenly there was deathly stillness all over the room! Seeing we were not welcome there, we swung round and hurried off. At that point, we bumped into the security guard, who had been following us!

When we arrived in Glyfada, Helen informed me that two youngsters had followed us from the fourth basement of the hotel to the bus station, they got on the same trolley-bus as us, they got off at Panepistimiou Avenue just like we did, and they kept following us all the way to the bus terminus. Then, they vanished -fortunately. I wonder: Could such games and shops selling them serve as a cover for other, shady transactions? Anyway, this is what happens with the great majority of clubs, gyms, schools, shops, companies and so on. Surely, I am never going to attend such an exposition again...

Monday, 26th April 1999

Night Adventure: I am in a strange land which is separated in two regions: "Good" (light, unspoilt nature) and "Evil" (darkness, melancholy). I seek to ''engraft'' Good in Evil and I take by my side a woman who lives in the region of Evil. In the end the whole place changes into a kind of asram...۩

Arriving at work this morning, I was astounded to see a graffiti sentence written with big black capital letters on a white wall beside Pangaea: HELL IS WAITING FOR YOU! For some seconds the first word struck me really bad -I didn't like it at all. Athens is a vast city, did they have to write this right here? I wondered. For a moment it occurred to me it had been written here just for me to see, but I refused to take it into consideration any longer. After all, I am not the only one who has seen this, I thought.

In the afternoon my parents decided to go for a walk in Glyfada (how come?), just the two of them. They reached the wonderful seaside cafe "Cataralla" but they didn't sit there because my father didn't want to spend any money for a drink.

Till late at night my mother wouldn't stop complaining about my father's miserliness: "Just once we went out together after so many years, and you weren't willing to spend two drachmas to treat me to a coffee!" she mumbled and mumbled. He, as always, accused her of being too extravagant and wasting all his pension month after month...

Friday, 20th April 1999

Once again, Mr Spyropoulos made fun of me when I went to his office and asked for a raise. "We'll see," he said ironically. A little later, some colleagues gathered around my desk and, full of simulated interest, they asked to know if the boss had agreed to my request. They all seemed to wonder at his indirect yet clear refusal.

"What now? What are you gonna do? You must do something about it!" said Nelly.

"You can't leave it at that!" Andromache chipped in.

"Don't let them take advantage of you," said Mary Bonanos, while I was feeling angrier and angrier.

I was about to burst, yet at the last moment I kept my composure and I only complained that

"If they just gave me a raise of 20,000 drachmas, I would be satisfied!"

"Don't tell them anything like that, they will take you for a fool!" Nelly said smiling.

However, what depresses me most is that I've been searching for a better job for months now -to no avail: all employers like my curriculum vitae, but none of them is willing to give me a higher salary; in fact, they give much less! To be precise, I get 165,000 drachmas per month in Pangaea, whereas other employers offer me no more than 140,000 drachmas – that is the basic salary of an unskilled worker!

Isn't this a mystery? I know quite a few working people, but none of them gets a lower salary than me -no matter what their job is! Nevertheless, when I look for a better paid job, all the positions I find are worse paid than the one I have!

Saturday, 8th May 1999

It's been some months now since my father started building a room in the plot I bought in Kypseli of Aegina seven years ago. Almost every weekend he goes there alone and strives to finish the small cottage. This morning he bought the roof tiles – which means the house was almost over. However, as soon as he got ready to start making the roof, a policeman arrived and announced the house should be demolished because it is illegal, since the plot is outside the town planning zone and there is no building license.

Without thinking about it twice, without letting anyone else know first, my father began to tear down the house he had been building by himself for so many months, until there was nothing left but a heap of shattered bricks. He told us all about it when he returned home late at night, exhausted, sad and disappointed...

Tuesday, 11th May 1999

Prophetic Dream: Someone phones and tells me Selene has a serious problem in Cyprus, and for this reason she will return to Greece. Verification: Two days later, Selene will give me a call and we shall go out together. She will stay in Athens for a few days because she has psychological problems -again...۩

It is about noon and I am at work. Andromache and Mary Bonanos are eavesdropping outside the meeting room, and I can't resist the temptation to go and join them. As usual, Mr Spyropoulos and his managers are discussing the future of Pangaea, which appears to be dark and dismal. We are astounded to hear them talking about selling the company to another publishing house! They are in a hurry to sign a contract with the highest bidder -who has already been found- until the end of the summer. Naturally, this means even more dismissals.

A little later, I go to the Xerox machine so as to make some photocopies. I happen to meet Rita there, she talks to me in a friendly way, as always, and I confide the news to her. I don't consider myself revealing anything new; the miserable condition of Pangaea is no top secret, and rumours about the sale of the company have spread for many months now. Besides, sometimes Rita eavesdrops with us outside the meeting room. "I only wonder: Shall I have anything to eat after summer?" she whines and I am surprised: She is certainly not that poor...

I have hardly returned to my desk (about six metres away from the Xerox machine), when Andromache stands right before me, she stares at me and asks with a stern face:

"Tell me, Yvonne, was it you who told Rita, Chris and the others that the company will be sold?"

"No! Of course not!" I deny the accusation at once, while I am astonished and wonder: How fast do rumours spread in this company, anyway? What part does each ''colleague'' play towards me? How long did it take Rita to inform Andromache (Spyropoulos' secretary and nark)? Since when has the sale of the company been such a big secret?

Andromache won't go on with the interrogation; she stays silent, though she keeps the gloomy expression of a judge who has decided to sentence the accused to death.

In the long run, the company will never be sold. It will go on firing employees and shrinking, but it will never change owners. As about the generous buyer, he will soon vanish into thin air...

* * * *

Friday, 14th May 1999

It's three months that I have been attending the taekwondo class of Acron Gym, in Argyroupolis. I haven't told the master I've had taekwondo lessons before, because I want to make an impression of a charismatic beginner. So far so good, everything is fine, but I have returned to the white belt (I couldn't care less).

Like every time, today's lesson was boring and predictable, until something amazing happened: That two-meter-tall young man with the curly brown hair and the shiny almond-shaped eyes, smiled sweetly and bowed before me, as we were about to perform some exercises together. I just couldn't believe it!

When the lesson was over, the young man hurried and got into the elevator with me. He said his name is Orestes, he is 24 years old, he studies Medicine, he is in the fourth year now. Soon I found out he leaves his bicycle by the entrance, just like I do every time. He is polite, friendly, witty, fascinating, he looks like an angel and he shows a clear interest in me! I don't know what's happening, but I think I am falling in love!

Monday, 17th May 1999

Once again I saw Orestes in the taekwondo class this afternoon. He gave me a sweet smile, we talked for a few minutes, then we performed some exercises together -how wonderful!

When the lesson was over, he waited for me and we left together. He told me he likes cycling and he is used to covering long distances on his bike. I let him know I like cycling too. "Unfortunately, I had a flat tyre yesterday, when I rode to Panorama of Voula", he went on. "Luckily, I happen to have relatives there, so I took the opportunity to pay them a visit!" – just a few simple sentences, as valuable as diamonds to me...

Friday, 21st May 1999

I can't understand what's going on: This time Orestes wasn't at all warm towards me! In fact, he did whatever he could to stay away from me during the whole taekwondo lesson! He refrained from practicing with me, he even avoided looking at me; I tried to approach him three times but he looked away, so I had to change direction!

When the lesson was over, I didn't leave at once; I delayed for about a quarter of an hour, hoping to see him in the elevator. When we finally met, I tried to break the ice by starting a conversation regarding body building. He responded politely, yet I could feel a distance between us. Something has changed in our relationship -before it has even begun...

No matter how hard I try to convince myself about the opposite, it's crystal clear that his interest in me is waning fast. Why, indeed? We have hardly known each other! Could it be our disparity in age? But I look ten years younger than I am -everybody says so...

Wednesday, 26th May 1999

The trap of happiness: It's about ten days now that I have been in a muddle of contrary thoughts and feelings: On one hand, I am happy because I have fallen in love again; on the other hand, I am tantalized by strong doubts and agony. Especially after the latest developments, I constantly feel a lump in my throat and a burning in my stomach, as it is impossible for me to control the fear that Orestes might vanish from my life any minute.

This afternoon, when I saw Orestes in the gym again, he was even more indifferent, frigid, estranged from me. It was impossible for me to approach him anyhow. There is nothing else to do and I have to live with it.

All things considered, this short love story was a lesson of life to me: When I found out the young man wasn't nuts about me, at first I was disappointed; very soon, however, disappointment gave its place to relief! My head isn't spinning any more, and I do feel much better! I have calmed down!

For twelve days I thought I had found absolute happiness, that is mutual love. Nevertheless, right from the start, I could feel something was wrong; a part of me wouldn't be taken in by that kind of "theater". I was excited, but I couldn't feel the nirvana I expected; in fact, the joy of love was neutralized by the fear of separation.

"Experience here and now," New Age sects command; but what is "here and now?" In this world, what you fear will materialize sooner or later. What you wish, will probably remain a fantasy for ever; but even if it comes true, in the long run it will be destroyed or distorted.

The quest for happiness in the material plain is nothing but fraud: The system methodically compels the average man to pursue chimaeras such as love, friendship, money, success, glory, etc; yet, wishes are seldom realized – but even if they are, finally things turn out to be entirely different to the expected. Moreover: the more invaluable something is, the bigger the fear of losing it is...

Weekend, 29th \- 30th May 1999

Just what I needed to take my mind off all this: the incredible story with Orestes, the never-ending mobbing I endure at work every day, my bitter friends who are getting harder and harder to see: I spent the whole weekend at the nice beach of Koropi, together with my sister and her good friends Milena and Helen.

I had the opportunity to enjoy the sea, the sun, the pleasant company, for many carefree hours – a rare joy which was offered to me spontaneously, without my having to run after wayward girlfriends or enigmatic boyfriends...

Wednesday, 2nd June 1999

Probably the most significant day of my life: The taekwondo lesson is over, Orestes hasn't spoken to me at all, I feel disappointed and sad. As soon as I get out of the locker-room, there he is, standing right before me, giving me a surprised and evasive look. "Come, let's go Yvonne," he says in a strange, maybe ironic voice. I say nothing; I just obey, while a sudden joy fills my heart.

Neither of us has come by bike this time, so we walk together to the nearest crossroads, about one hundred metres from the gym. We discuss jovially various subjects, such as studies, cycling, taekwondo -does it matter? I am on seventh heaven, experiencing every single moment to the fullest, as if it lasted years.

As I walk next to him, I don't care about anything else; I even disregard that he seems to be looking forward to getting rid of me as soon as possible: "Shouldn't you turn here and walk to Vouliagmenis Avenue?" he asks me once or twice, before we have even reached the crossroads. I pretend not to understand until, inevitably, the time comes for us to go our separate ways. I say goodbye smiling, and I watch him for a while as he goes up the road; then I turn to the left and walk to Vouliagmenis Avenue, with a clasp of melancholy in my heart.

Sitting at the bench of the bus station, absolute happiness fights the deepest bitterness inside me: Indeed, I had to reach the age of 36 before I was given the chance to walk one hundred metres next to a handsome man -and this happened only once...

Monday, 7th June 1999

I content myself just with seeing Orestes in the taekwondo class. This is enough to make me feel alive, just like then, in the year 1977, when I loved George Franzis platonically.

After the lesson I linger on purpose for a quarter or so, and I manage to meet him in the elevator once again. We talk a little about various subjects -in a most typical manner- until we reach the ground floor. It is impossible for me to disregard a certain frigidity from him. He takes his bike and goes out to the road hastily, as if he were champing at the bit to get rid of me, and the gets ready to leave before I have even gotten near him. Just a second before speeding up, he turns his head, he smiles and bids me "Farewell!"

I return the farewell and I watch him ride away, feeling sad as never before; yet I wouldn't dare imagine the truth \- that I will never see Orestes again...

Monday, 14th June 1999

Aunt Despina (and her proverbial hoodoo) has come to spend two days with us, and everything is going from bad to worse already: First of all, I decide not to go swimming with my sister and nephews because I don't want to miss the taekwondo lesson. When I reach the gym, I find out Orestes is nowhere to see. He hasn't appeared since last Monday and I am very worried.

"What's up?" asks the master when he enters the big room and finds me standing by the door, looking around in frustration.

"All is quiet," I reply calm.

"I can see that; all is quiet!" he says meaningfully.

When I arrive home at night, Alice tells me about her adventures: As she was driving to the beach, she had a flat tyre. Then she got a fine of 20,000 drachmas for illegal parking at the beach of Kavouri – where thousands of cars are illegally parked every day. Moreover, she lost a tooth filling, which will cost her 10,000 drachmas or so.

Tuesday, 15th June 1999

The penetrating, beady eyes of aunt Despina never stop observing everybody and everything in the house. She has also managed to pester us all with her incessant grumble about everything and her exasperating ravings about how perfect a housewife she is and how much everyone loves her.

In the afternoon I get ready to leave for the gym, with the view of taking part in the aerobics session of 7:00 o' clock. Aunt Despina glowers at me and says scornfully: "Are you going to the gym again? Why don't you mop the floor instead?"

I ignore her and run to the bus station. I wait there for five minutes and the bus comes on time. It is about to turn round the triangular square but it gets stuck between two parked cars and it can no longer move! I wait patiently for almost ten minutes -in vain. Then I decide to take a taxi, so as not to miss aerobics.

However, when I get to the gym, I am surprised to find out the lesson hasn't begun yet because none of the fifteen women who compose my class has turned up! All I can do now is a little bodybuilding. Am I wrong to be thinking that aunt Despina's proverbial hoodoo has struck again?

Chapter 43: Traumatic Summer

Monday, 21st June 1999

Fateful birthday: Boredom at work, boredom at the gym. Orestes is nowhere to see. My sister has ignored me entirely. None of my friends has remembered my birthday. At night, the TV film "Nightmarish Youth" suits my psychology perfectly.

I turn 36 today and I am not at all in the mood for inviting people and celebrating anyhow. What could I celebrate indeed? That I am 36 years old and I have achieved nothing in life? That I have come to naught once again? Neither am I in the mood for receiving silly presents such as trinkets, books, or pots of flowers. In general, I feel as if I absent in my own life, because most of the events happening to me don't really concern me. I only try to endure every meaningless day...

On the other hand, I am no longer what I used to be; I am growing up and my needs are changing: An outing with wayward friends or a lecture on dubious metaphysics doesn't excite me anymore. Maybe I would be excited if I went out with Orestes. But where is he? He has disappeared for two weeks now.

Once again, I am in a crisis; but this time many circles are closing in my life simultaneously, everything is falling apart around me, and there is nothing new for me apart from one sole truth: As long as I wish something, it will never happen! And I don't even dare to imagine what the future will be like...

Wednesday, 23rd June 1999

Strange phenomena at the gym: Helena is a short, plump Albanian woman, who claims to be English and a secretary in a big company. Moreover, she has got the half-black belt in taekwondo although she can hardly move. This evening she and I had to practise some fighting movements together. I kept changing positions all the time, so that she couldn't strike a blow at me. "Stay put so that we can practise!" she told me nervously at a moment. I obeyed, yet she still couldn't do anything to me.

"Don't look down on Helena; she is an expert in locks; if she performs an arm-lock at you, you will see stars!" I was told suddenly by Natasha, the blond vamp of our class, as we were changing clothes in the locker-room after the end of the lesson. I wondered at her spontaneous eagerness to stand for Helena, taking into account I have never said anything bad about Helena or anyone else in the class. It seems to me the blonde plays the part of the leader/supervisor in our class, just like Ellie did in Nicky's school...

Saturday, 26th June 1999

Good news: First of all, Josef got rid of the plaster this morning. From now on he will be able to walk, but he will have to use crutches for a few months. In addition, my short story "Adventure in the Land of the Dead" was published in the magazine "Greek Fantasy", in the issue of June.

In the evening I went out with my friends Annita, Xanthippe and Helen. We went to ''Cataralla'', which is our favourite seaside cafeteria: An exotic environment, fabulous colourful fountains, artificial gurgling streams and an interesting occasion: A fashion show with beautiful mannequins dressed in attractive, ethereal outfits. While it lasts, we keep on watching carefully, without superfluous talking. Better so...

Thursday, 1st July 1999

Mathusala, my goldfish, died yesterday. He was two years old. This afternoon Urania and I went to a pet shop and bought new goldfish. I chose two beautiful fish with impressive tails. "Make sure not to stir them while walking, because goldfish get stressed," the shop assistant advised us.

Back at home, I sought to empty the two fish in the fish tank on the heat accumulator. However, I accidentally dropped one of them behind the heavy radiator! It was kinda difficult for me to get it out of there. "What a shock for the poor fish!" joked Urania.

Then, my friend and I had some tea and we chatted for a while; at a moment I expressed a heretical opinion: "In a jungle, it is the strongest or cleverest animal that prevails; in the human society, however, it is yes-men who prevail -those who serve networks blindly. A person's natural abilities are of no importance; on the contrary, the more gifted someone is, the more the human herd fights them!"

"What you say is anarchic and subversive and you shouldn't say it! It means that human society is a lunatic asylum!" Urania answered with a set face and she is right: Human society is not a jungle -if only it were! It is an immense bedlam, indeed...

Monday, 12th July 1999

Early in the morning, before arriving at work, I went to a nearby toy shop and bought two new decks of the card game Esoterra. New cards, more rules, an advanced game I can hardly wait to play.

In the evening I didn't go to the gym, I don't give a dime about taekwondo, besides Orestes doesn't come anymore. I visited Persa and we played Esoterra like hypnotized, under the light of candles for three hours. We both had a whale of a time! After all, this is what life offers me, this is what I relish. Why should I go around like an unfair curse, vainly pursuing things that are never meant for me?

Ex Oblivion: An inner truth, which I have always tried to forget, has just recurred omnipotent once again: There is a difference, indefinable but evident, between me and human beings! I neither think nor feel the same as they do, I don't pursue the same things in life as they do, I don't even have the basic characteristics of the human psyche: wickedness, cunning, lust.

All my life I have been feeling like a prisoner in an alien world, inside an alien body. Wherever I go, whatever I do, no matter how hard I try to pretend I am one of them, the truth always prevails and haunts every moment of my life: I am different from the other people; I am alien, extraterrestrial, extradimensional!

That's why I never achieve anything, despite my continuous efforts: The terrestrial, human aims in life (studies, business, money, love, perpetuation of the human species) are not for me.

That's why it is impossible for me to mate with a terrestrial man.

That's why, wherever I go, I can never fit in.

That's why no one is ever on my side, not even the members of my family.

That's why nothing really satisfies me.

That's why I have always been a target: at school, at work, in social occasions, in gyms, everywhere: My "fellow-men" can sense my difference and, since they are herd animals, they instinctively attack anything foreign -let alone extraterrestrial. I've always been alone against everybody.

Happiness is to be in your element, but I am very far from my element. I know I don't belong here, but I have no idea what I am, how I ended up here, or what I've come to do on this earth. I can feel there is a special ''mission'' for me here, but I haven't had a specific sign yet. So, I spend my time waiting and finding ways to make my everyday life more tolerable.

The only thing I really wish is to go away, very far from here. This has always been my innermost desire, ever since I was a toddler: to come in contact with some alien race, my race, who will take me away from earth, beyond the galaxies...

Friday, 16th July 1999

In the meanwhile, the situation at work is getting worse and worse: I have no allies in there. All my colleagues avoid me and they look down on me. Andromache and Gryparis are always bombarding me with offensive remarks and they are constantly complaining about everything. I've come to believe the two of them have launched a war against me because they intend to make me quit my job; in this case, the company won't have to give me a dismissal pay.

This morning, when Spyropoulos arrived at work and I greeted him politely, he just turned his face away and pretended he couldn't see me. Moreover, when Mrs Julia -an old, good colleague- called, I answered the phone but she asked for ''Andromache?" immediately, pretending she hadn't recognized my voice. I put her through immediately, so she didn't have to talk to me at all. Who knows what she's heard about me...

As for the rest, I carry out all my duties in the best possible way. Nevertheless, sometimes I bring pamphlets from travel agencies at work; when I have free time, I riffle through them right before their eyes. Judging by their angry looks, I understand they get furious; especially when I let them know I intend to spend a week in Paris, lots of people make wry faces -and I like it so!

Thursday, 22nd July 1999

This afternoon we had examinations in taekwondo, in Acron Gym. Finally, I managed to take the yellow belt again, although the master wasn't very pleased with me: "Yvonne, you were very nervous; and in the first exercise, you turned your head left instead of right!" he said dourly, as he was giving me -rather unwillingly- the precious belt. I was kinda disappointed; I thought I had done well in the exams.

Later, at home, I recollected the scene in my mind again and again, trying to understand how I managed to turn my head the wrong way, in the simplest taekwondo form ever: We bring the left foot and the left fist forward; the right elbow goes back, the hand in a fist. Then we turn body and head to the right, both arms stretched backwards; then, the right foot and the right fist come forward, whereas the left elbow goes back -and so on. I just wonder: How could I ever turn my body and arms to the right but my head to the left? This movement is unnatural, how did I make it? Did I make it? "Stop! It is as if they were saying to you: Stop!" my friend Urania said calm, when I let her know about it.

Monday, 26th July 1999

After the taekwondo lesson, Natasha (the blond ''leader'' of our class) suddenly approached and sought to admonish me, lest my newly-acquired yellow belt might turn my head: "So, you got the yellow belt after six months of practice! Big deal!"

"It's been four months ever since I started coming here, that is from April!" I reminded her, smiling.

"Six months, six months!" she insisted, supposedly joking.

As about Helena, the ''wiz-kid'', this time she came to the lesson wearing a black belt, although she hadn't even appeared in the examinations! Isn't this a mystery...

Allegiance - the greatest human virtue: The most important prerequisite for success in the human society is allegiance, that is devotion to a hierarchy and its leader. From a very early age, you hear from everybody that you ought to be ''useful to society'' and think of the others as more significant than you.

Naturally, the term "others" is too vague, since it can't include all the people of earth. "The others" finally prove to be a specific group of persons: your family, the company you work for, a club, an association, a religious sect, a political party etc.

What they all demand is your mind, your time and, most of all, your energy. They all demand these three things from you: All your mind, all your time, all your energy. Whatever you do or think should serve one thing only, that is the interests of the group. Of course, all groups happen to obey a ''leader'', so the final beneficiary of your efforts is actually one person -the leader.

The demand for allegiance to a leader is an expression of primitive, brutal force: Those who don't show the expected monomaniac behaviour, are punished with isolation and failure in life. Unless you serve some ''superior authority'', you can't survive. What you can do and offer is of no importance to leaders; all they are really interested in is your becoming part of the ''mass''. If you wish to have a place in the human society, you will have to submit yourself sooner or later.

As about me, work has always been the plague of my life. The truth is I hate working in Pangaea, or anywhere else. I hate the job of a secretary, or any other job. Ever since I became an adult and had to find a job, work has been exasperating me, depressing me, frustrating me. Nevertheless, what I abhor most of all is not work itself, but my having to do with every man Jack. I waste too much energy by dealing with all kinds of scoundrels, psychos, ruffians, harlots day in, day out. "And you can do nothing to avoid them! While at work, you are just a sitting duck!" says Mary Skina. Anyway, I shouldn't be serving companies. This is not at all my mission in life...

* * * *

Sunday, 1st August 1999

Night Adventure: Two opposite cosmic powers fight against each other. Their conflict puts the whole universe in danger, so I imprison them in two different magic seals and place them in a special frame on the wall. Two other women help me but one of them eventually betrays us. The seal is broken, the two powers are free again.

My friend and I are prisoners of a bad witch now. We are in a pink cell and we can hear the witch saying that the next room will soon be full of water and she will release a shark in there; then she will open a gap on the party-wall, so that the water and the shark will flow into our room; if we don't allow the sea monster to devour us, the universe will be destroyed by the conflict of the two opposite powers. I know there is a christian spell which could help us, but I can't remember it and I despair. When the time comes, the witch approaches but I still can't remember the spell. There are some people outside, shouting and complaining about the noise, without suspecting the imminent danger. "You will die, so will the world!" the witch threatens, while through the door pane I can see not one, but two sharks swimming in the next room, which is already full of water.

At that moment, I remember and I burst into laughing. "You are only a dream and I am the dreamer! As soon as I shut my eyes, I am out of here and you can do nothing to stop me!" I say to the witch triumphantly. She looks at me with glassy eyes, probably she can't understand what I mean. The gap on the party-wall opens slowly, lots of water rush in, its flow echoes around threatening. I close my eyes and try to wake up, but I can't.

My conscience hasn't fully returned to this world when I extend my arm towards the standard-lamp, with great difficulty. I try to turn it on but it's impossible. Yet, I have to... Finally, I make it! I wake up right on time, full of satisfaction and relief. Maybe I saved a universe tonight...

Thursday-Saturday, 5th -7th August 1999

I am on a three-day trip on the island of Agistri, together with my mother and Josef who can now walk freely, without crutches. From the moment we left home, the boy has been a regular jack-in-the-box. His face is always red, he grinds his teeth maniacally and never stops railing at me: "You, senile old woman!" ... "You are evil and ugly!" ... "You, disgusting old spinster!" ... "I wish you never get married or have children!" and so on.

"This is just what I need, to have a child like you!" I say to him at a moment.

"If you have children, they will be retarded!" he retorts full of spite.

As about my mother, she always sides with him: "Shame on you, Yvonne, quarreling with Josef! He is just a baby and he has been through a lot! Just don't pay attention to him, is it so difficult?" and I wonder: How long can anyone endure insults and curses, repeated over and over again, all day long, without losing their composure?

Moreover, the ten-year-old ''baby'' never stops demanding that we buy him toys, ice creams, sweets etc, and he swears like a lorry driver any time we refuse. Whenever we go to a restaurant, he demands we order two or three different dishes for him, so that his majesty can decide which one he will eat. "The eye must be satisfied too!" he says impudently, and my mother is always ready to indulge as many of the prince's whims as possible.

Every time we go to the nice swimming pool of our hotel, Josef always makes sure to arrest everybody's attention by yelling at me like a lunatic, at the top of his voice: "Now, aunt! Dive now! Now, now, now!" while he trembles all nerves. When I finally dive, he runs (always yelling) and falls right on me! Then he splashes around hysterically, annoying everybody in the pool, while his mocking guffaws echo all around. Sometimes, when my dive is not so good, probably because he makes me dizzy with all the fuss he makes, he shouts and laughs even more loudly until he screams himself hoarse: "Haaaa, ha, haaaa! You've just made a fool of yourself again! Come on, aunt, try again, again, again!" Needless to say, I've become the laughing-stock of the whole hotel; yet, at that time I can't realize what's happening, as Josef keeps guffawing and screaming in my ears continuously. I can't think clearly; I only try to have some fun...

On Saturday morning we depart for Aegina. First we go on a pilgrimage to the Monastery of St Nektarios. After midday we reach my building plot in Kypseli. We are flabbergasted as we find my father knocking around, hopelessly trying to build some kind of ''house'' there; it is made of tarred paper or something like that, it looks miserable and it stands at the place of the cottage demolished three months ago! What a ridicule! I can hardly believe my eyes! My mother is about to be struck all of a heap! She starts yelling at him and makes him stop at once, while Josef smiles maliciously.

Anyway, I don't really mind about all this, since I don't give a dime about this piece of land. What bothers me most, is a cockerel which has been crowing continuously every since we arrived. At 5:30 in the afternoon the damned bird hasn't shut up yet, and I decide to go for a walk around. Pity, though... I thought that at such an isolated place I would find some piece and quiet at last; but it seems that a kind of sonic war follows me everywhere...

When I return, at about 7:00, the cockerel is still crowing! I complain about the awful noise, but none of my family members seems to sympathize with my exasperation. Actually, it is my complaining that exasperates them even more! In the meanwhile, I have already decided never to set foot on the island of Aegina again.

Paradoxically, Josef seems to have calmed down here; at least, he doesn't swear at me all the time, it is as if he were in torpor. As about me, I don't feel so well: I have a terrible headache and a fever (in the month of August!) and I know well what's made me sick. These are the worst holidays of my life...

Sunday, 8th August 1999

Early in the morning I depart for Corfu together with my friend Denia. Frankly, I don't know how I decided to go on this organized trip: I visited Corfu again, with the same travel agency, three years ago. Besides, I have arranged to leave for Paris on the 20th of this month, again with Denia. I guess I've been carried away by the desire to escape from my joyless routine as much as possible.

The journey to Igoumenitsa, more than ten hours in a coach, seems to be endless, tiresome, tormenting. I still have a fever, my head is spinning and I can no longer bear the scorching sun on my head. I lower the sun-stop but the Russian bumpkin sitting behind me keeps raising it, and this is repeated countless times until we reach our destination. In the meantime, my nerves have gone to pieces...

Monday, 9th August 1999

In the morning we went on a guided tour to Mon Repos, not far from our hotel in Pontikonisi. Then we visited the church of St Spyridon, after that we went for a swim to the picturesque but crowded beach of Palaiokastritsa. As I was swimming in the shallows, I bumped into a woman from our group twice. It happened by accident, I apologized both times, but she complained "We two will keep bumping into each other all the time!" with an attitude.

When the time came, 3:00 in the afternoon, Denia and I were back in the coach, according to the tour-guide's instructions. To my great surprise, everybody had already returned to their seats, before 3:00 pm, like well-oiled robots, and they were all glaring at us. The fat tour-guide seconded two old men who grumbled over our being late.

"Didn't we say we should be back at 3:00 pm?" I wondered, looking at my watch. It was 3:00 o'clock sharp.

"Aah, yes!" she admitted unwillingly and everybody made a wry face.

In the evening my friend and I took the bus to the city of Corfu. We walked around the streets for a while, then we sat at an outdoor cafeteria in the main square, where we exchanged just a few words – Denia has never been very communicative. An Italian gipsy, who was supposed to be an artist, came near and asked for some money for a brief dancing performance she had just given. We paid no attention and she swore at us: "Antipatiche!"

Repulsion. During the whole evening I had been feeling a kind of repulsion, a smouldering yet strong sense of expulsion – as if all those people who were having fun didn't want us among them. We stood up and went away after an hour or so, and it proved to be extremely difficult for us to find a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Moreover, my friend seems to be more boring than usual, while the rest of the group is too hostile. I have the impression from now on holidays won't be what they used to be for me...

Wednesday, 11th August 1999

It is a very special day today: An eclipse of the sun is expected at noon, together with an alignment of the nine planets in our solar system; such a rare concurrence takes place once in 2000 years and many people are afraid of imminent natural disasters on earth.

Early in the morning we follow the litany of St Spyridon, not without some strange obstacles and a certain nervousness; then, all at once, I lose Denia! Where can she be hiding? The coach is about to leave without us! I worry and worry, until my friend suddenly appears -right at the last moment; I suppose she wanted to go for a walk alone. Fortunately, some people happen to delay more than Denia, so we leave for Messonghi twenty minutes later. Strangely enough, none of the passengers complains about this.

When we reach our destination, the driver announces the time of departure; he says we should ''wait for the coach right here, behind this wall", and he shows a back street behind us. The beach proves to be mediocre and crowded.

When the time of the eclipse comes, the atmosphere seems to be strangely heavy and hazy for a few minutes. As about the alignment of the planets, it escapes notice; nothing extraordinary happens, the end of the world hasn't come -as many feared. Nevertheless, I do feel a weird chill in the atmosphere, a kind of breach, an odd inner and outer rupture: an invisible yet fateful change in the world and inside me...

When it is time to leave, Denia and I leave the beach and go to find the coach in the narrow street we were shown. Yet there is nothing there, so we run to the main road hoping to see the vehicle there. We wait at the bus station for a few minutes, yet the coach is nowhere to see. So, we begin searching here and there, full of agony, until we finally find it in a narrow street; we are ten minutes late. As soon as we get in, almost out of breath, the whole group starts booing us! An awful uproar resounds all around us, as we walk to our seats. Some crazy old men shout at top voice, accusing us that

"You are always late! You do it on purpose!"

"This is not true! We have never been late before and this time we are because we didn't understand where the coach would be!" I protest, but my voice is muffled by a chorus of hooting, while Denia can't help laughing. "However, this morning as well as last night, certain people were more than twenty minutes late but you didn't have a problem with that!" I go on.

"Come on, nobody was late!" exclaims the young man sitting behind me. He is one of those who delayed our tour this morning.

Then I turn to Denia and I say to her loudly, so that everybody around can listen: "When we get to the hotel, I will explain to you what really bothers all these dandies!". I am sure many have heard that and got the point but nobody reacts, probably because I've hit the nail in the head.

"But... is this where we were told to wait?" I ask Denia a little later, as the vehicle finally sets off.

"No way..." she wonders too.

As hours go by, I can interpret better the unprecedented feeling of ''rupture'' inside me: First of all, I can see it isn't temporary; it is permanent. This is how I will be feeling from now on: I can't tolerate them any more. I can no longer bear them. I can't endure their presence. I mean human beings; I just can't stand them any more...

Thursday, 12th August 1999

This morning Denia and I visited the impressive Canal d' Amour in Sidari. We went just the two of us, since this excursion wasn't included in the organized tour. The landscape is fantastic, we had a fine time, yet Denia was always worrying about our losing the bus back to Corfu, and she demanded we leave the beach two hours too soon. First we had lunch at a fast food restaurant, then we had to wait for the bus under the blazing sun for more than an hour.

In the afternoon we went to a beautiful swimming pool near our hotel. I offered to give swimming lessons to Denia, since she doesn't know how to swim right and she is terrified when she can't touch bottom. Sometimes she gets on my nerves with her ten-year-old mind ("Two fifty-drachma banknotes make one hundred drachmas?"), her phobias (she is afraid of getting drowned in half a metre of water), her inability to communicate (she seldom has anything interesting to say). Nevertheless, she proves to be the right person to go on a trip with! At least she doesn't avoid trying new experiences and she doesn't exasperate me with continuous, silly objections to everything...

Friday, 13th August 1999

Night Adventure: A mermaid witch, called Hailey, decides to harm the immortal Triton. At a moment, when he gives Hailey his hand, she spits at it with disgust; strangely enough, this is how Triton becomes mortal. Someone knows and asks the witch: "Why did you do this to Triton?" but she gives no answer. Later on, he stands in the court of mermaids and declares he forgives Hailey. Then I rise and make a positive remark about forgiveness, which will set him free from many redundant future lives...۩

Today we return to Athens, taking the same endless, boring route. I've come to believe guided tours function in the same way as modern sects, since they deviously impose herding and submission: ''You will go no further than there, you will eat at that restaurant, and at 3:00 pm sharp you will all be back to the coach without a second of delay''. In this way, all group members adopt the same way of thinking, the same desires, the same obedience to an actually fascist regime. Moreover, organized trips prove to be too exhausting, since travel agencies always make sure to follow the longest possible distance between two destinations. This happens not because they want to satisfy their clients, but because they aim to exhaust and enervate the ''cattle''...

Friday, 20th August 1999

Early this morning Denia and I are travelling to Paris by plane, again with a travel agency. By noon we arrive at our hotel, near Republic Square. It's not bad, but I expected it to be more luxurious. Then we go on a cruise along the Seine, after that we reach Montmarte Square, where lots of artists display their paintings, and we also visit the white church of Sacré Coeur.

In the days to follow we shall visit many wondrous sights such as the Palace of Versailles, the cathedral Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Luxembourg gardens, the Champs Elysées and the Arc of Triumph, some castles on the river of Loire, and Disneyland: How beautiful, fairy-like our cities would be if certain authorities allowed that...

All is fine, yet my friend still makes me nervous as she seems to be completely unable to take any initiative or make the simplest calculation: She can't turn drachmas into francs, she can't go around by herself because she gets lost in the streets, and the metro is too confusing for her. This means I am obliged to do all the thinking and explain everything to her, as if she were a four-year-old infant. Strange, though: Whenever we meet in Athens for a coffee, she doesn't seem to be such a retard...

Wednesday, 25th August 1999

I've decided to go on a special guided tour to Normandy today; Denia doesn't wish to join us, and I am happy to get rid of her childish, helpless mind for a few hours. First we visit the picturesque town of Honfleur, which is full of nice cottages and flowers.

Then we arrive in Dauville, where we'll stay only for an hour. The fascinating town with the luxurious houses and the expensive shops leaves me speechless. As the tour-guide informs us, this is a tourist resort for the rich; many music and cinema stars spend their holidays here. As I walk around the streets, I am surprised to realize that the elite know very well the meaning of beauty and harmony, and they make sure to have them in their cities. Most poor people, inhabitants of awful monster-cities, don't even suspect there are such magical places like Dauville.

When I return to the hotel in the evening, Denia says she has spent the whole day shopping. I am astounded to hear she managed to use the labyrinthine metro of Paris all by herself, without getting lost anywhere. So, she isn't so stupid as she seems; she only likes to depend on others, just like kids do...

Saturday, 28th August 1999

Yesterday I came back from Paris and this evening I am meeting my good friend Mary Skina – first for a coffee and then for dinner, as usual. I'm never bored of her because she is an interesting person and the only one who's willing to hear about my problems:

"I really wonder, what kind of child Josef is! He must be an evil spirit! He's absorbed all your energy!" she exclaims spontaneously when I narrate my adventures in Agistri.

She is absolutely right about that: The little jack-in-the-box must be a psychic vampire: he is always absorbing energy from people with the incessant fuss he makes (constantly banging doors, furniture, metal stuff, or screaming without a reason) and with all that malice he shows (me) at the first opportunity: "You are ugly and old!" ... "You are obnoxious! I hate you!" ... You will never find a man!" and so on. I am sick and tired of his malevolent glances, his endless demands, his offensive remarks, his crutches – which he keeps dragging around, so that everybody feels sorry for him. Just his presence makes me feel worn out; I think he affects me -and others around him- negatively, no matter how hard I try to stay uninfluenced.

"You give out an intense negativity", Mary goes on, "because you are always the target of many evil forces, which are are too hard to ward off".

Indeed, I often feel as if I were trapped in a gigantic, invisible cobweb; and the more I try to escape, the tighter it is woven around me...

Then we start talking about my relationship with Alice, who has always disliked and looked down on me: "Maybe the most negative force which blocks your life on a material and a spiritual level is your sister!" says Mary and makes me wonder.

I can't rule out that possibility, though; it is true that the star of our family never misses an opportunity to attack me with all kinds of humiliating remarks: "You are so ugly that no man will ever like you!" ... "If I looked like you, I wouldn't go out of the house!" ... "So, you think you still look young? Till when will you look young, anyway?" Sometimes she even confesses she would like me to stay unmarried and childless, so that her brood inherits all my property. Nevertheless, they just can't help abusing and insulting me continuously; they consider me that stupid!

"Your life is a living hell!" concludes Mary.

I don't like the sound of it, but I think she is right...

Friday, 3rd September 1999

Unfortunately, vacations are over and I am back at work now. Suddenly the bell rings, I answer the door and Mary Bonanos struts in, holding a characteristic handbag from Disneyland! "As I can see, you went to Paris this summer just like I did!" I exclaim surprised but smiling. Mary explains to me that she and her eleven-year-old son spent ten days there in August. She says they stayed in a luxurious hotel inside Disneyland, and then she takes some photographs out of her bag and shows me the fabulous, very expensive hotel! Then, I begin to bombard her with lots of questions, always smiling: "Did you visit the castles on the Loire?" ... "Did your see the House of Magic in Blois?" ... "Did you go to the Louvre?" She answers yes to all my questions, with a sullen look on her face. "Did your also go to Normandy?" At that point she shuts up.

In the process, Mary starts showing all her photographs, one by one, to Andromache and me. Soon I notice she has photographed very few sights. She has mostly posed in front of shops or walls, always sullen, unsmiling, grim. So, despite her high education, the woman is incapable of recognizing beauty. She has hardly realized where she was all these days! Moreover, she gives me the impression she went on that trip to France just to pique me, because I had made sure to inform all my colleagues I were going to spend a week in Paris! Yet, I've made it clear to her that I did go to France this summer and that I don't give a dime where she went...

Chapter 44: Tremors

Sunday, 5th September 1999

Night Adventure: I can see the earth cracking; black, vaporous, demonic entities come out of the chasm and they move threateningly towards me. I say my prayers hoping to ward them off, but they won't go away. Then I push a plate with some food towards them; they take it and withdraw back to the bowels of the earth. Verification: Two days later, a strong earthquake (6,3 R) rocks Athens, leaving more than 100 dead and thousands homeless.

Tuesday, 7th September 1999

The time is 2:45 and I am still at work. The bell rings, I answer the door and there appears a skinny, bearded man, together with a little girl. Before he has even said a word, I give him a stern look and I tell him to go to the bookshop on the ground floor and ask for some money -this is what we always say to beggars. The shame I feel is indescribable when the stranger explains he has come to meet Mr Spyropoulos! Soon I find out he is not a beggar but a scholar-monk from Mount Athos -wearing plain clothes, holding an infant by the hand- who has written some entries for the book ''The Unknown History of Christianity''!

Frankly, I can't understand how I've made such a blunder! Anyway, this man looks like a modern saint; he suffers the slight with an impressive placidity and he won't betray me to the boss. I guess I was deceived by his humbleness, since nowadays all people act as if they were number one; the polite and modest are considered to be unworthy losers.

Now the time is 2:59 pm. A horrible rumble echoes all around and the earth begins to shake; it trembles violently for eleven seconds that seem to last hours. I stick to my seat and grab my desk scared, as white clouds of dust and plaster smother the air and huge crooked fissures appear on the walls. For a few moments I fear the one-hundred-year-old building might collapse.

When the earthquake stops at last, the building is still standing -fortunately! Mr Spyropoulos is hiding under the big table in the meeting room. He looks funny. Mr Gryparis and Andromache are standing by the door, both dumbfounded. "Guys, let's go!" I exclaim and the managing director repeats "Yes, guys, let's go" mockingly, as we all rush down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor.

After an inspection, the building of Pangaea will get a yellow cross; this means it is not habitable until the necessary repairs are made.

Wednesday, 8th September 1999

None of my colleagues on the 3rd floor comes to Pangaea any more. They all prefer to avoid the ''yellow building'', so they work at home. Only Andromache and I come and work in the sales department of the book shop, where Mrs Kate Pikros is in charge. I sit next to Demetra, one of the clerks; Andromache is at a desk right opposite me. Mr Gryparis will be in the office of Mr Pikros from now on.

I am very optimistic about the recent developments. My new colleagues seem to be more friendly and easy-going. I believe this is a god-sent opportunity for me, since I've escaped from the hostile environment of the 3rd floor, even if I still have to answer phones.

In the days to follow I do my best to show diligence, willingness and adaptability. I even undertake additional tasks such as filling in customers' cards or running errands for the company. When I express my desire to work for the book shop permanently, the others seem to like the idea. On the other hand, I wonder: Did an earthquake have to happen, so that I could get better working conditions?

Tuesday, 14th September 1999

Night Adventure: I am inside a moving bus; there is someone sitting next to me and he looks strange and disagreeable. He annoys me all the time, then he says he is going to the dentist. I get off and walk along the road but soon I find out the guy is still near me, but this time he has a gun and he looks dangerous. I run to escape and I enter a door which leads to the house of a big family. I explain to them somebody is after me; they smile and reassure me:

"Don't worry, he won't come here, he is going to the dentist!"

"How do you know that? I haven't told you!" I wonder and then I realize they are his friends, now laughing at me.

At this point the dream becomes lucid: "You can't harm me, because I am a dreamer!" I say to them and I start showing off my psychokinetic abilities, making some objects hover in the air. Everybody is impressed, but suddenly Josef appears and he makes such a fuss that he disrupts my concentration and my psychokinesis.

Interpretation: Clearly, the dream reflects my life. I never bother anybody, yet there are always cunning persons around me, who make sure to cause me all kinds of problems. I never meet any allies; I am often betrayed by people I consider friends. As about Josef, he often appears as a spirit of disturbance -not only in my dreams but in my life as well...

Wednesday, 23rd September 1999

Prophetic Dream: I am in the post office at Syntagma Square so as to receive some money for Pangaea; however, the employees refuse to give it to me because there are some signatures missing on the documents I've brought.

Verification: This morning I will be told to go to the post office at Syntagma Square so as to receive some money that has arrived for Pangaea; yet, the employees won't give it to me because there are some signatures missing on the documents I've brought...۩

I can already sense something is wrong with my new work environment: Certain people drop hints that Andromache and I should leave the book shop and install ourselves in the small, dark, dirty room behind the main stairs of the building. "All of you should go there!" says Mrs Pikros but I refuse to understand, probably because it is still my earnest desire to keep working in the positive -to the moment- environment of the bookshop.

By the way: Mrs Kate Pikros acts the big boss here and gets a tidy salary of 800,000 drachmas per month! Nevertheless, she doesn't do anything more than Demetra (she thinks very high of herself) and Penny (she is Mr Spyropoulos' niece), both of whom get basic salaries. All day long she types numbers on the computer, just like they do; on the other hand, she is married to Mr Pikros, who is the manager of the book shop...

Thursday, 24th September 1999

Night Adventure: I am in a beautiful, exotic beach together with a gorgeous man who has a fine, trained body and long blond hair. The place is wonderful: There are tall palms everywhere, I can see a gurgling waterfall in the distance and the sea is clear and serene. I touch my partner gently and I luxuriate in the peace and quiet of nature. All of a sudden, my nephew Josef arrives together with many friends of his and they make a lot of trouble. Goodbye romantic atmosphere... I wake up with a startle and wonder: What kind of being is Josef, anyway? ۩

After a short conversation we all had this morning, my ex colleagues refuse to work in that ''derelict, filthy hen-coop'' behind the main stairs; they prefer to keep working at home. As about me, certain people demand I install myself in there, but I openly disagree; I certainly wouldn't like to be all alone, or together with that vixen of Andromache, in that rat-hole. Besides, I haven't received such an order from Mr Gryparis.

In the meantime, Andromache seems to be losing patience with me; she is constantly watching every movement of mine and she never loses an opportunity to belittle or slander me:

"Where were you when the earthquake happened?" asked Demetra at a moment.

"I was in my office, Mr Spyropoulos hid under a table, I have no idea where Yvonne was!" she answered full of spite and I was aghast at her nerve and her lies.

"Where were you, by the way?" Demetra asked me a little later.

"At my desk, where else?" I replied but I don't think she believed me.

Friday, 25th September 1999

I arrive at work at 9:15 in the morning, as usual, whereas most employees of Pangaea arrive later than 9:30. There has never been a problem with that, since I've always carried out all my tasks properly. This time, however, as soon as Demetra sees me coming, she frowns and starts yelling at me: "Who told you that you are allowed to be so late every day? What are your working hours, anyway?" I can hardly believe my ears...

"Everybody in Pangaea comes at 9:30 am and they leave at 3:00 pm -for the last thirty years!" I explain as calm as possible.

"But I come at 9:00 am sharp every day and I can't fall behind with my work so as to answer the telephone! This is your job!" barks Demetra, full of malice.

"But nobody ever phones before 9:30!" I protest.

"The phone lines ring like crazy all the time!" she insists wrathful. She is lying, of course.

Nevertheless, next morning she apologizes to me because ''we work together and we shouldn't be on bad terms''. Anyway, after the above incident I decide to adapt myself to the new reality: From now on I make sure to arrive at work at 9:00 am sharp and I never leave before 4:00 in the afternoon, since there is always a lot of work to do in the book shop. Anyway, things have changed now: apart from operating the telephone central, typing all kinds of texts and making out invoices, I also have to do clerical work for the sales department; plus, I often run errands. As about a pay rise, it looks like a pie in the sky.

Although I do my best to satisfy everybody in there, I feel worse and worse every day; an indefinable but strong anguish torments me continually, as the atmosphere is getting heavier and heavier around me. I still don't know what's going on, but I have the impression they are all against me for some strange reason...

Sunday, 3rd October 1999

Prophetic Dream: I am at work; Mr Gryparis swears at me and I decide to quit. Right then, Mrs Julia invites me to her office and says everybody here has a lot of regard for me. I can feel she is sorry and I delay my departure by walking as slowly as possible. On my way out, I meet a young woman who looks like Demetra and I tell her that ''things would be much different if they had paid some attention to me''. "They had logged you out", she replies with a stern face.

As I go up the street, I feel rather gloomy; It's a pity that job didn't work out; What am I gonna do now? I think. When I turn to the next alley, I see two dogs lurking for me. They start chasing me, but I finally manage to escape running along a paved road. I still feel sad about losing my job, but I also consider myself liberated.

Verification: Right next morning, the subtle war against me is escalated by Andromache and Demetra, who play a very dirty trick on me.

Monday, 4th October 1999

I am at my old desk on the 3rd floor because the computer and the printer are still here and I need to print some pages -this will last no more than ten minutes. Suddenly, the telephone rings beside me. It is Andromache, who says to me in a commanding voice: "Listen Yvonne, let go printing and come here immediately because the phones are ringing like crazy and Demetra can't answer them!"

I run downstairs at once, full of agony, and the two vixens look down their noses at me. That hypocrite of Demetra, who pretended to be good and polite at first, has now teamed up with Andromache and demands I go and work all alone in that hen-coop behind the main stairs because the telephone central drives her crazy, she says. Nevertheless, I refuse to do so and I neurotically insist on working in the hornets' nest of the book shop. The way I see it, they want to dump me in that dungeon because they consider me a piece of rubbish. Nobody else wants to work in there, why should I? No, I won't do them such a favour.

In the days to follow, the environment around me gets worse and worse. I can see, by the looks on everybody's faces, they all hate me. They hardly even say ''good morning'' to me. Every day, when I arrive at the book shop and I shut the door behind me, I feel as if I were buried in a grave. And all this just because I said I preferred to work in the book shop. Human beings are mad...

Wednesday, 20th October 1999

Early in the morning, before arriving at work, I enter a telephone booth. I dial 109 (drugs prosecution) and I declare the following: "At 24 Tempi street in Ano Glyfada, there is a taekwondo school. They traffic in drugs there! That's it, goodbye!". Then I hang up at once. Revenge is a dish best served cold and it tastes wonderful...

As for the rest, nothing extraordinary happens today -just one thing: At a moment Mr Tsamados drops by, all smiles as usual, and informs us that on 1st November in the evening all those who have worked for ''The Unknown History of Christianity'' will have dinner in a taverna in Athens, in order to celebrate the completion (at last!) of the book. The idea sounds fine to me...

* * * *

Friday, 22nd October 1999

It is a great day today: The electrician is here so as to make all the necessary connections for my computer to be in the sales department. So, from now on I won't have to run to the 3rd floor any time I need to type or print something. In the meanwhile, all my colleagues in the book shop seem to have accepted the fact, since none of them expresses the slightest disagreement.

Nevertheless, they all look more indignant than ever when all the work is done, the connections have been completed and the computer is finally installed at my desk in the sales department. "I can't stand another computer in here! We'll all get cancer!" barks Demetra, red with fury. Mrs Pikros stays taciturn, yet she glares at me, probably because the electrician had to disconnect her coffee pot and take it to the kitchen. All of a sudden, Andromache rushes in and shouts to me outraged: "Mr Gryparis ordered you take your computer at once and go to the room behind the stairs!". I run to the managers' office and ask if what Andromache says is true. Of course it isn't...

Monday, 25th October 1999

Mobbing against me gets worse and worse every day: All employees in the bookshop never lose an opportunity to give me a raw deal, they charge me with tons of work and they demand it's carried out ''yesterday''. I don't think I will be able to endure this for long...

At a moment Demetra complains to me about the computer again and Andromache chips in: "Don't say anything, or Gryparis will come and start shouting again!". However, despite the unexpected support of the managing director, the atmosphere around me is getting more and more hostile. Eventually I understand I was wrong to insist on working in the bookstore, but unfortunately it is too late: The computer is here now, and it would be too difficult to make new connections in another room. What an incredible mix-up...

"If they had been honest to me from the start, I would have known what to do!" I complain to some colleagues who have gathered in the room behind the stairs. "But they are all lunatics!" I add, while Andromache listens and smiles complacently.

Right at that moment, I realize the paradox: All my ex colleagues from the 3rd floor have just installed themselves here, in the ''small, derelict, filthy hen-coop'' which has just been painted and furnished at record time!

"So, you will all be working here eventually", I exclaim astounded.

"That's right", Chris replies enigmatically.

"Which means, you waited for me to be installed in the bookstore for good, and then you all agreed to come and work in here!" I conclude, dropping from the clouds.

As about Andromache, from now on she will be working in another place rented by Pangaea, I hear her say!

Therefore, it is as clear as daylight that all my dear colleagues have played a very dirty trick on me: they didn't want me to be in the same workroom with them, probably because they had received such an order, so they waited patiently for my final decision: if I had agreed to be installed in that room, none of them would come here apart from Andromache, who would spy on me and slander me all the time; But now that I will be working in the sales department, Mrs Pikros will undertake this task -and she is much worse! What a frame-up! And I've been so naïve...

Tuesday, 26th October 1999

Another horrible day at work: I arrive at 9:00 am sharp. Everybody frowns at me and nobody returns my ''good morning''. A little later somebody calls and wishes to speak to Mr Pikros on the phone. I put him through but the line is suddenly cut off. Mr Pikros appears at once and he is impatient to know who was on the phone. I have no idea, I didn't have the time to ask.

"The typist blew it once again!" says Mrs Pikros with a grim face.

"It's not my fault, the line went dead", I explain calm.

"You don't know how to operate the telephone central! You still haven't learned!"

At that moment Mr Gryparis summons me in his office because he wants to give me something to type. "It's a bedlam in here!" I say to the cashier, as I pass her by. When I return to my desk, Mrs Pikros glares at me and says full of spite: "I hate brainless typists who can't do anything right!"

"I hate them too!" I reply, as I watch her typing something...

Wednesday, 27th October 1999

Since the beginning of this month, Demetra has been trumpeting forth she intends to leave Pangaea soon. I suspect they want me to do her job as well, as they have already started to show me her work. This means even more responsibilities for me, always with the same beggarly salary and the same incessant war against me. I don't know what to do: If don't quit soon, I will surely face big problems.

At a moment Penny (usually polite, smiling and sweet) approaches, she gives me a huge pack of customers' cards to fill in and says in a commanding voice: "Finish them quickly! You listen? quickly!" Then she walks away and sits at her desk, glowering at me angrily: "Quickly, I said!" while I stare at her bewildered and embarrassed.

That was the last straw. I can no longer control myself. Moment by moment I feel more and more depressed, a torrent of negative thoughts invades my mind, and I only know one thing: I must get out of here as soon as possible.

Friday, 29th October 1999

Prophetic Dream: I am in Pangaea together with Andromache and Mary Bonanos. The building is ancient and beautiful, with tall marble columns, mosaic floors and a square atrium with a glass roof. Suddenly I hear someone say that Mr Spyropoulos is dead, while the building is being demolished little by little. What a pity, I think sad, as we all get ready to leave.

Verification: Soon it will be known that the building of Pangaea will be completely abandoned at the end of the year. The bookstore will move to another shop nearby, whereas the offices will move to a different place – which means my dear colleagues weren't patient enough to tolerate my presence for two more months. Moreover, I hear that Mr Spyropoulos suffers from a rare disease and the doctors don't expect him to live more than three years. That's why he's let Pangaea go to the dogs, taking into account that his milksops aren't capable of running a company...

Chapter 45: Exit

Monday, 1st November 1999

Early in the morning, an unbelievable conjunction of circumstances hastens my decisions:

I get up at 7:00 am, as usual, full of anxiety lest I should be late for work. Due to excessive mental anguish during the night, I haven't slept more than four hours.

I have breakfast in a hurry, I leave half of it on the table and run like crazy to take the bus to Athens.

I have forgotten to renew my monthly pass, and I don't have a ticket.

Nobody at the bus stop has a spare ticket for me to buy.

The bus number 154 comes, but I don't get on it.

I walk along the avenue, looking for a ticket to buy in haberdasheries and kiosks. Strangely enough, none of them sells tickets.

Rather disappointed, I return to the bus station. Once again, none of the people waiting there has a spare ticket.

Nevertheless, I stay there and wait patiently for the bus, determined even to pay a fine in case an inspector gets on and finds out I have no ticket.

Half an hour later, the bus is nowhere to see.

In the meantime, the time is 8:30 am and I begin to worry: What now? I will be late for work and they will yell at me again!

All of a sudden, there comes a realization: The above freakish adventure is an ordinary situation for any employee! Indeed, what a ''wonderful'' way to begin your day until you end up in a black grave, while the sun is shining outside! Inside the grave called ''work environment'', you are obliged to toil continuously, breathless, obedient and distressed, patiently enduring insults, backstabbing and intrigues from your ''dear colleagues'' until the sun sets. And this is your entire life, day in day out!

Fortunately or unfortunately, coincidences guide me and I decide: I will neither go to work today nor join the others in that taverna in the evening. I am not at all in the mood for having dinner with Andromache, Tsamados, Parisis and the rest of the ragtag and bobtail who have worked for the "Unknown History of Christianity". Tomorrow morning, as soon as I get to Pangaea, I will go to Gryparis' office and announce to him that I quit my job at the end of the month for personal reasons. I feel this is the right thing to do...

Tuesday, 2nd November 1999

As soon as I get to work this morning, I see Gryparis in his office and I inform him coolly that at the end of the month I will leave the company for personal reasons. He pretends to be indifferent and frigid, and he gives me something to type. I don't intend to tell anybody else about it – a type of silent contempt towards all my ''colleagues''. In the meanwhile, I already enjoy a unique sense of freedom: I no longer care what each one of those dunderheads says, nor do I worry about the consequences of my supposed mistakes.

When the working day is over, I walk along the streets of Athens and I watch carefully the people around me: Their faces are grim, full of anguish, but they look perfectly adapted to the hell of the city: A hell full of dirt, noise, ugliness. But I belong here no more...

Thursday, 4 November 1999

About a month ago I applied for the post of a secretary in an import company. They phoned me this morning and asked me to come and give them an interview in the afternoon. The company is situated in Argyroupolis, not far from my house, but I prefer to avoid it. I am not in the mood for becoming anybody's slave again.

Moreover: When humans try to harm me, my dark side wakes and I suddenly have wondrous ideas! For instance: If those jerks at work cause me any more problems, I will crash their computers with magnets! Evil to evil is good. Everybody gets their own lessons from life. I've learned that work is satanism. Others learn that work is the greatest aim in life. No, I will never regret leaving Pangaea: It's better to live free for one hour than forty years in prison...

Monday, 8th November 1999

Another hectic day at work. At a moment Mr Pikros approaches murmuring to himself, kinda irritated because of some recent complications. Before returning to his office, he looks at me and says loud enough for everybody to hear:

"It's a madhouse in here! I envy you for leaving, Yvonne!"

They are all dumbfounded, while I blush with embarrassment because my secret has just been revealed.

"That's a turn up for the book!" Demetra utters in astonishment.

"I was about to tell you", I reply calm.

"If I didn't have children, I would leave too!" she says mealy-mouthed.

Suddenly, all the unbearable heaviness in the air around me is gone for good. All at once, everyone seems to be relaxed in their vigilance. "So, you are leaving us", Penny says a little later. "And who knows what kind of person will come here!" she adds thoughtful. You should have thought about this before, I reckon.

Tuesday, 16th November 1999

Early in the morning a hen comes into the bookstore and wishes to see Mr Nick Gryparis. She says she has come ''for the ad in the newspaper'' and she is interested in the position of secretary which is about to become vacant -mine. Soon she proves to be the managing director's cousin. Her name is Ann and she claims it was not her relative who informed about the imminent vacancy; she wants us to believe that she just happened to read the respective classified advertisement in the newspaper. Naturally, she is hired at once.

As about me, I will have to train her for the next two weeks. At a moment, Mr Gryparis summons me in his office and he asks me to stay one or two weeks more, so that I can show her the work better. I reply I can't stay any longer, not even for one more day.

This makes me wonder, though: Lots of employees have been replaced in Pangaea until now; most of them were ''invaluable executives'' such as editors and managers, yet none of them had to train their successor before leaving the company. Why do I, an ''insignificant typist'', have to give two-week seminars (or even more) to the genius who will take my place?

In the days to follow, all my colleagues in the bookshop do their best to cajole the new employee. They never stop fawning upon her, especially since Mr Gryparis appeared smiling in the sales department the other day and uttered a ''hello cousin!" ostentatiously enough for everyone to hear. As about Mrs Pikros, she is always looking for a chance to belittle me before her:

"Ann, I hope you know how to talk on the phone, not like Yvonne who always asks the customers ''Are you a bookstore'' instead of ''Are you a bookseller'' which is the right thing!" she said this morning ironically. Once again I acted the fool and I stayed silent. I would rather not cause any kind of trouble till I'm out of here...

Friday, 19th November 1999

Prophetic Dream: I am on a trip to Switzerland by coach, together with my friend Nineta, her parents and some other people. We see many beautiful places on the mountains, then we visit a big museum and we admire the Caryatids and other antiquities. Later we arrive in a big city; as soon as we get off, Xanthippe insists on our sitting at the nearest cafeteria; we forget all about sightseeing and we obey passively. Verification: In the evening I meet Nineta and she tells me she has travelled to Europe and Switzerland by coach, together with her parents...۩

Ann has followed a course of word processing in a private school and she has worked as a secretary before, she says. I don't have a reason to doubt her, yet I can't ignore the fact that she doesn't even know how to make the cursor move! However, she likes to be a smart aleck:

"I can see you work in a simple way; you don't use any complicated orders!" she told me at a moment. I gave her a stern look and she bothered to explain: "I mean, you do the job fine, but you don't use macro orders, for example!"

"I don't need to use complicated orders; that's why I am so fast!" I answered calm.

Now what? Revolution is fine, but I have already started to wonder: What happens next? Surely, I will never seek a job in a company again. If I ever work in an office again, this will mean I am a dead loss indeed, entirely incapable of controlling the slightest thing in my life. But what are my alternatives, anyway?

Having pondered on various solutions to the problem (I am too bored to mention them) I have concluded that the best thing I could do is become a private tutor of foreign languages -English, Italian and German. I like the idea, yet there are some questions:

a) How shall I find pupils? Maybe I'll put in some advertisements in newspapers.

b) Will I earn enough money? I guess I won't find many clients near my home. I suppose it will take me about an hour to go to the pupil's house, the lesson lasts one hour too, plus one more hour to return home. In two words, each lesson will take me about three hours for 3000 drachmas approximately.

c) How safe is it for me to receive an amount of money every week without giving a receipt (especially during the first year, when I won't have many clients). This job is actually illegal, what if someone squeals on me?

d) What consequences will I suffer if some stupid kid fails in the Lower or Proficiency exams?

Maybe I am too apprehensive; however it has often proved that what never happens to others, usually happens to me. For the time being, I won't look for another job. Instead I will allow myself to relax and be on the dole until September. Then I'll see what comes next. There is no need to panic...

Tuesday, 23rd November 1999

The managing director has just agreed to sign a virtual dismissal (so that I can be on the dole) as well as a letter of reference for me -and this is as good as it gets.

Later on, I go to the accounts department and I see Vera, the assistant accountant.

"Really, now" she wonders. "You asked to work in the sales department, together with Kate Pikros? Everyone knows what a shrew she is! I've worked three years with her! You can't imagine what I've been through during those three years!"

"How could you endure her for so long?" I wonder.

"I was a heroine! A real heroine!" she answers solemnly.

As far as I've understood, everybody in the company knows what kind of skunk Mrs Pikros is -everybody but me. I was the only one who had no idea....

"You didn't know; why didn't you ask?" concludes Vera.

Admittedly, it never occurred to me to ask about Mrs Pikros, but I had made clear my intention to work in the sales department right from the start; however, none of my dear colleagues ever bothered to inform me, although they all knew what a rotten egg that woman is.

"Got it! All those years you've worked for Pangaea, you were practically non-existent to them!" Urania said this evening, when we met and told her all about it.

Tuesday, 30th November 1999

Today was my last day at work. When the time came, I made my farewells shaking hands with each one of my colleagues and I hated every moment of that hypocricy. If it were possible, I would have left without even saying ''goodbye'' to anyone in there. Rita was the last person I saw, and she was kind enough to see me to the door. This is my last memory from Pangaea.

Right after liberation, what I feel is void: The seven years I've spent in there now seem to have lasted no more than seven days of a very distant past. Pangaea is already fading away in my mind like an elusive dream, as if it had never really existed in my life. But where have these ten years gone?

In the afternoon I got an unexpected phone call; it was from an import company in Glyfada and they invited me to give them a job interview for the position of a telephone operator. This job is certainly worse than the one I've just quit and I have no intention of going from one prison to another. Besides, I feel I can no longer endure the everyday morning anguish of ''Let's run like crazy, or I'll be late at work'' or the endless ''Yes, Mr Boss, pigs can fly Mr Boss!"

It seems to me that fate reacted immediately to my decision for liberation, offering me this ''job opportunity'' right on the day of my escape! But I have changed now: I am not going to run into a dark hole like a scared mouse, in search of some doubtful security...

Friday, 31st December 1999

Strange, maybe fateful end of Millennium: Persephone has invited me to New Year's Eve dinner tonight, so as to welcome the new millennium together. There is a celebration all over the earth today -music, songs, joy, festivals everywhere.

We have roasted steaks with wine for dinner, while the television is on, broadcasting phantasmagorical festivities from various countries of the world: Fireworks, dancing and singing, smiling faces -all humanity has become one. However, I can feel a vague, strange sadness hidden within all that universal joy – the deep, unmentionable sorrow one feels when they know that the years of innocence are gone for ever...

Finally, Persa and I play Esoterra full of passion, and hours will pass in unique excitement: At this very night, the game has a different meaning inside us, as we both experience it as a paradox, magic ritual. What a wonderful way to welcome a new year, a new century, a new millennium...

Chapter 46: Awareness

48 meaningless months later

Who am I?

I am 41 years old.

I haven't got a husband. I will never have one.

I haven't got any children. I will never have any.

I haven't got a career anymore: After so many years of work, it has come to naught.

I haven't made a fortune: I haven't bought a house, or a car, or a boat, or a cottage. Nothing. Never.

I haven't got a social life: All my ''friends'' are nothing but boring misfits; and I know they won't be my friends for long.

Therefore, within these 41 years I've been on earth, I have accomplished absolutely nothing -which makes me feel wonderful! More than ever I feel like an alien who has fallen on Earth. For some strange reason my spirit has been trapped in this bleak world, where human beings strive continuously to conquer everything, pollute everything, destroy everything. They don't have a problem with that: They enjoy ''the struggle for survival'', ''workloads'', ''family burdens'', ''responsibilities'', and they work hard every day so as to make a world a worse place. On the contrary, I am here to walk in the sun courageously, whereas the human masses toil in dark dungeons called ''workplaces''.

During all these years, I have tried really hard to fit in, be like them, and ''think positive''; yet, I can no longer ignore the truth that smoulders inside me: I abhor what humans are; a demonic entity with billions of faces. A monster. Day by day, I feel the desire for human destruction growing stronger and stronger inside me. It is not focused on specific persons; it is the idea of total annihilation that enchants me. The most genuine feeling I've ever had in my whole life...

Friday, 24th December 2004

Psychic experiences and night adventures are fun but they do not fulfill me any more. I need something else, something more powerful and more effective; having pondered on it for some time now, I think I know what I have to do -starting from tonight...

In the evening I take my bike and go on a long ride to Helioupolis. As I return to Glyfada, the sky behind me is full of heavy, orange-gray clouds; there is also a lot of thunder and lightning, but no rain. The storm seems to be following me all the way and the atmosphere is unusually ionized, enchanting. I don't even dare to wonder; I just feel great.

The Supreme Rite

Place: My study room

Time: Friday, at midnight

Preparation: I have already made an effigy of the Monster Humanity; it is of black cardboard and it looks like a dark monster consisted of five tentacles full of eyes; the central big eye and the five ones around it are green -non human. The rest of them -human- are black, blue or green. The five tentacles represent the five continents of the world.

Setting: The ''altar'' (a small wooden table) faces east. At its centre I place the ''crater'' (an old, copper brazier) with the cardboard effigy of the Monster inside it. Behind the ''crater'' there is a lit epitaph candle; in front, on the right, I put a small bowl of water; on the left, a clay pot with some soil in it. The ''fire sword'' (a big knife with a black handle) lies right in front of the brazier.

Atmosphere: I open the window; I warm my hands by rubbing them together. Then I take the ''fire sword'' in my right hand and find the right emotion inside me: Wrath.

Finally, I begin recitation in a strong, firm voice; words come out of my mouth spontaneously, as if they were always buried somewhere inside me, finding a way out at last:

I, Yvonne Fezarris,

born on the day of the Black Sabbath,

I summon you, Uriel,

the Light of God,

the Great Archangel of Earth,

the Keeper of the Key to Hades

Turn and look at me!

Turn and listen to me!

For the astral worlds being endangered,

for the natural kingdoms being destroyed,

for the whole Universe being tainted,

I, Yvonne Fezarris,

born on the day of the Black Sabbath, command:

Death to the Monster Humanity! (three times)

Now I, Yvonne Fezarris,

gather the Power into this Sword!

I take the candle and I raise it together with the knife, so that the blade touches the flame, and I continue:

Now I, Yvonne Fezarris,

have the Power to annihilate

the Monster Humanity

Death to the Monster Humanity! (three times)

I lower the ''fire sword'' (flame and knife) and set the cardboard effigy on fire. I watch it as it burns to ashes, slowly reciting the Ode:

It is too late for you all, who are One;

the Light will wipe out your species,

the Air will dispel your ashes,

the Water will wash away the human taint,

the Earth will swallow your filthy works.

Soon it will be as if you never existed,

Never

Never

Never

When the fire is out, I break the burnt effigy into pieces with the blade of my ''sword'' and I throw the ashes into the lavatory-pan. Then I empty the ''altar'', leaving only the ''fire sword'' there. At the centre of the table I place a statuette of an angel, as a symbol or a new, chaste world. Finally, I take the ''sword'' in my hand again and recite the Hymn:

So the astral worlds are shining again,

So the natural kingdoms are growing again,

So the Universe is chaste again:

The Light has wiped out their species,

The Air has dispelled their ashes,

The Water has washed away the human taint,

the Earth has swallowed their filthy works.

Now it is as if they never existed

in the wondrous new world I behold

with the eyes of my soul.

. . . .

Perfect. Just perfect.

I feel wonderful as I am holding the ''fire sword'' in my hand, uttering the above spells, watching the Monster Humanity being burnt in my flames. I also feel a pleasant warmness all around me and a unique, unprecedented sense of fulfillment surging within me.

I can't watch TV after that.

I can't read magazines or books after that.

I can't occupy myself with trifles after that...

. . . .

Saturday, 25th December 2004

Last night I had a night of insomnia: Mixed feelings of worry, doubt, guilt and fear kept me awake for many hours. Nevertheless, I haven't read the Supreme Rite in some silly magic book. The whole idea has come out of my soul, as a result of my experiences on Earth so far, energized by the evil within the so-called ''human species''. They are responsible for my enlightenment, they are to blame for everything that will happen from now on.

The Supreme Rite is the culmination of my life, the destiny I've been seeking ever since I was born. In fact, my whole life has been leading me to it. Therefore, I have nothing to fear, no intervention of any invisible avenging forces. On the contrary, I can feel I have inner guidance, as well as protection from superior immaterial entities. I am no longer alone. Revolving these thoughts over in my mind, I eventually managed to calm down and fall asleep.

At dawn I was awaken by violent, deafening thunder and lightning – as if the heavens were open! They went on for hours, maybe the loudest and wildest I have ever heard, filling my soul with unprecedented excitement.

?! I heard it on the TV News this morning: There was an explosion in a big disco in Tahiti last night, right after I had finished the Rite! It was probably caused by terrorists, they said. More than 200 people are dead. I just wonder...

?! A little later, an extra bulletin announced an incredible piece of news: In the year 2020 a meteor is expected to crash on earth! The explosion will have the power of two thousand atomic bombs! Scientists are very worried but they hope to be able to change the meteor's course with nuclear missiles when the time comes.

Fantastic! This is what it means to "invest in the future"!

Sunday, 26th December 2004

Night Adventure: I am flying over an exotic beach, watching high tidal waves coming nearer and nearer, threatening lives and fortunes. The first wave arrives, then a second one -which is even higher. Some people run out of the sea so as to save themselves, while others just stay there indifferent, waiting for the end passively. Later on, I listen to the news bulletin on TV; the speaker says that no matter how much money is offered, the losses in southeast Asia will never be retrieved.

Spontaneous interpretation: There will be a terrible natural disaster somewhere in Asia pretty soon...

?! Verification: Late at night, an earthquake of 9,2 R near Indonesia causes a huge tsunami (tidal wave) which kills many thousands of human beings. It was caused by the collision of tectonic plates and its epicentre was at the depths of the Bay of Bengal. The whole planet has been affected by the earthquake and the tsunami: The island of Sumatra has budged by 28 metres; the axis of the earth has shifted a little; the whole earth rings like a bell; more earthquakes are expected sooner or later, because of the domino phenomenon of the tectonic plates. According to scientists, it is one of the most powerful earthquakes ever. The worst natural disaster in the history of mankind, some experts say. It is an undeclared World War Three, others claim...۩

What's most incredible: A similar natural disaster signals the beginning of the end for mankind in my unpublished novel "Age of Nemesis", which I wrote thirteen years ago:

"Age of Nemesis": a) page 23: a gigantic tornado appears at the depths of the Bay of Bengal, b) in the year 2004, c) page 24: about half a million casualties, d) a huge tidal wave flooded the coastlines of India, as well as the islands of Andaman, Nicobar and Sri Lanka e) the name of the protagonist is Andon Barrens, f) page 25: Could the mysterious explosion of the nuclear submarine ''Coolidge'' have caused the tragedy in India?

Reality of 26th December 2004: a) The epicentre of the earthquake was at the depths of the Bay of Bengal, b) in the year 2004, c) there will be 350,000 casualties in all, d) a huge tsunami flooded the coastlines of India, as well as the islands of Andaman, Nicobar and Ceylon (ex Sri Lanka), e) On the island of Andaman there is a volcano called Barren, and it has been erupting for two weeks now, f) Some experts claim the earthquake was caused by nuclear tests carried out by the Americans.

The above mentioned coincidences prove that my novel "Age of Nemesis" is prophetic. I experience an unprecedented sense of deep excitement; I feel more satisfied and complete than ever, having finally found and fulfilled my destiny.

So, I don't wonder anymore; I know.

This is just the beginning.

It is the beginning of the end.

The beginning of the end for mankind.

THE END

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