MY NAME IS IKARO LAMBRIDI and I live in Pangrati on Dikaiarchou Street with my family. My family consists of my aunt, Eleni-Iokasti Kapodistria, the Boy, and me. I am ten years old. That is, I turned ten on September 28th. I never celebrate my birthday because on September 28th, 2010, the pilot Alexandros Lambridis, who was my father, was lost in the skies. Although I don’t celebrate, I understand that it is my birthday and I grow one year older because Eleni-Iokasti gives me a brand-new pair of jeans as a gift. They are not faded at all, not torn, and don’t have holes in the knees. Horrible! I’m the only one in the whole class wearing such pants, and of course, they make fun of me. But if it were only that… I learn the story of my family every Thursday when Eleni-Iokasti’s friends come to play biriba. They sit in the living room around a round table and play while talking nonstop.

I know it’s not right to eavesdrop. But I’m not eavesdropping; I’m listening to them talk about my own life. Someone should have told me about it. There are many things they say that I don’t understand. But who would explain them to me? Eleni-Iokasti? No one asks Eleni-Iokasti. The only one who could ask her is the parrot. But how much does he care about me? Only that when he hears her talk a lot, he gets jealous, paces around the cage, flaps his wings, and shouts, Enikastria, Enikastria, which means Eleni-Iokasti Kapodistria. Then she puts down the cards, approaches his cage, and with a very sweet voice – she never speaks to me like that – says while stroking his head: “Calm down, my boy, I’m here,” and smiles.