Tasoula, Tasoula, Tasoula!
With unimaginable joy, I "speak" with you today, because we, the children of that time, are still alive on the stage of our lives.
I never abandoned my past, I didn't deny it, I didn't reject it. Just like it did to me.
I live with my company and I have been trying for many years now to capture this on paper. And I have managed, for my own satisfaction, to account for the events, etc.
Every time I smell carnation, I relive the horror of the mass funeral of 8/6/1948 - and it's been 66 years - and I smell the scent of carnations and the rotten blood of the fallen dead, in the church of Agios Dimitrios.
So be it! Horrible, but true. But I also remember our carefree childhood that we have lost.
I write on yellow paper, because our life is now like the fallen yellow plane leaves of November.
With wishes for good remaining years of our lives.

Nikos Oikonomopoulos