Rania Karachaliou, with an evocative, rhythmic, almost dance-like language, creates a paradoxical poetic universe that continually dies and is reborn. The only requirement to enter the world of prima materia is a desire to dance.

For everything dances in this book. Diaries and spells, lemons, fireflies, wooden horses, Turing, Karyotakis, and Pavlova, all swirl frantically, mutate, sweat, and shine.

Submitted to the whirlpool, Karachaliou explores poetry as an alchemical act.