It was the summer of '64 when I finally finished high school, and at the same time, my stay in Mytilene was coming to an end.

With a graduation certificate of "Very Good," I think my adolescence was ending as well as my life in the city where I grew up and loved more than anything else.

The whole family was already in Nea Smyrni preparing for our new beginning and waiting for the "older son" to start his academic career...

That was it. A big old checked suitcase in one hand, stuffed with my clothes, sheets, and my little blanket, tied with rope to keep it from opening; in the other hand, a bundle, which was actually a white sugar sack full of books, and hanging on my shoulder was a bag from Grandma Damaskini, with half a loaf of bread—a gift from Mr. Kostas the cotton trader— a plate with an omelet, two tomatoes, a cucumber, meatballs, and cheese from Mantamado.

And on top, a small icon of the Archangel and a sprig of night-blooming jasmine from Grandma's garden.

The night-blooming jasmine wilted quickly. I still have the plate from the omelet. The icon of the Archangel has been lost. It probably couldn't withstand all that it saw...

I climbed the ship's stairs and set sail for Piraeus. The ship was traveling to Piraeus while I was on a journey back to Mytilene and my neighborhood.

For this "journey backwards," I want to talk to you in this book. And I preempt your question. Why? Is it worth it?

Because now, close to eighty, I decided to take a... dive back into the early childhood and teenage years of a simple, ordinary child from the province?

Is this "journey" simply covering the need of an elderly person to escape into the past, for “memories” that will try to justify paths and choices?

Maybe you think, my friend, as someone might say, that "back then we were better, life was better, everything was better and more innocent and pure" and you think that you "struggle against" the present, conveniently and effortlessly?

Perhaps out of a "geriatric complacency," my friend, you want to talk "about yourself," to leave "advice and legacies" for what you have experienced and consider important and memorable?

I never succumbed to such temptations. I never allowed the "old man" to settle within me, nor did I permit memory to turn into nostalgia, and as for "directions" and advice, I abandoned them long ago.

So what is noteworthy about this reflection? Who is interested? I am. For years now, I write wherever I can and however I can about my city.

Now, looking at all these writings with the "eyes" of a certain age, I discover that I "forgot" to mention something about the "small and insignificant." About the human things!

About a neighbor's good morning, about the love of an "aunt," about the aroma from a neighbor's kitchen, about a quick kiss at Saint Evdokimos, about my grandmother's scolding for my first cigarette, about skipping class... for... For those everyday, "insignificant" things...

For all those things that silently and decisively shaped us into what we have become. Whatever we have become...

This "journey back" is not for me a nostalgic recollection, a wandering through the past, with a glass of wine. It is an exercise in self-knowledge, a "dive into my roots" to find a support, a help to hold on to, and not be swallowed by this darkness that begins to cover us.

Not to forget where I come from and lose my footing and my "compass." Not to forget what is precious and necessary for my humanity.

Because I am starting to feel—perhaps too late—that I risk coexisting with "things" that are "foreign" to me and that I have forgotten to have "things" that are beloved and precious close to me.

A "dive" into what has happened, I wanted to attempt, maybe even now I can "correct" my pace and my path... Even now!

So I do not get lost on the wrong roads... So I do not forget my... homeland. Because "homeland" is ultimately the "memory" that remains with us...

Let us delve into our roots, into our "primary" steps. And perhaps we will find answers for "today's" questions that we will ultimately discover are the "yesterdays."

I would be immensely happy if these humble little texts help you "travel" a bit into yesterday and rediscover forgotten moments, aromas and games, loves and faces and forgotten gazes.

Because "roots" need watering with a little "memory" to not dry out... I took a glass of Limnos wine, played a CD of Dulce Ponte and later Café del Art by Mavroudis, and started this journey.

And it was not easy at all. A thousand difficulties. The memories that clouded judgment and very often the eyes, the new "interpretations" of feelings and events that appeared today out of nowhere, but also this 80-year-old memory struggling with "what really happened" and what it wanted "to have happened"...

But who cares. After all, for a "traveler of the past," I think that what one remembers is what is truly real. Let it be, this "journey" was not easy. Not at all, I tell you. But in the end, I truly enjoyed it.

Take a look for yourself, and we'll talk again...