If you ever happen to find yourself in the mining town, wherever you may be in the mining town, look at the strange machines with many straps and the various inventions of the human mind, but also look at the people themselves. Look at the children. From time to time, some well-dressed traveler would come to visit the site, holding his camera and his cane, nodding his head as if he understood this or that the foreman was explaining to him. He would greet us with a polite smile and that was all—he didn’t really look at us, he didn’t stand there in amazement to look at us. He probably found it natural that we were there. But if you ever find yourself in the mining town, as I tell you, then perhaps you too will say to yourself that I’m right to complain; and that I envy you, whom I consider lucky in life. But use the eyes of your heart and look.

“Mr. Daskalakis’s book is an oasis, we say it once again. But it is even more than that: It is one of the best books in our modern prose literature.”

Angelos Terzakis