They buried him in a remote corner, under an old cypress tree, which time and winds had battered and which leaned toward the overgrown garden wall. About fifteen people in total. A priest who was in a hurry to finish, two or three friends from the Drama School days, a handful of relatives, a few neighbors from the alley of his family home. And his parents. His parents. It was the last day of October and, although it was sunny, the soil of the First Cemetery still emitted the rain from the previous night. The farewell was brief, like his life. Without wreaths or eulogies. As soon as the damp grave swallowed the coffin, those present whispered a few words of comfort to the parents and then quietly dispersed. Only his father and mother remained. Frozen. The newspapers dedicated very little space to his death, squeezing the news between ads promoting Fulda Diadem tires (stable, highly durable, suitable for every road), the four-volume encyclopedia The World of Plants and Animals, Silver Astor stainless steel razors, and a ten-day event dedicated to pure virgin wool, which was about to start at the Minion store.

The young actor Alexandros Krontiras passed away, wrote Apogevmatini. Sudden end for a promising artist, was the headline in Ethnos. The actor Alexandros Krontiras left prematurely, announced Vradini. And below a few lines about his modest achievements. His participation in some good performances and, mainly, his four small roles in Finos films. One of these even included a hand-kissing scene with Aliki (at that point a writer had added an exclamation mark). No one wrote that Alexandros Krontiras became an actor because he once saw Kyveli on stage. No one wrote that the happiest period of his life was two winters earlier, in January ’66, when he had a brief appearance in a performance of Kyveli herself, at the State Theater of Northern Greece. And certainly no one pointed out that in the diary found at his home, half the pages referred to the mythical figure of Kyveli Adrianou.