You were the dead corpse of Rigas that passersby saw floating in the Danube that summer morning, and you were the splashes of Dr. Tsironis' blood on the walls of his house at the moment of his execution, you were the Armatolos and Klefths, defenders of Thermopylae, Marathon fighter, and Albanian fighter...

You were Haidoukos, avenging the oppressed, and you are a bomb programmed to explode when endurance is exhausted, you are the overflow and the culmination, you are the rage and the blind frenzy, you are the dual face of beauty and ugliness, you are the dark barrel of the revolver that the one about to be shot faces just moments before his death, you are the stammering words of outrage uttered by the wronged, you are a man who wants to live free and you are ready to die for it...

You were among those who said NO to genocides, NO to human experimentation, NO to confinement in prisons and psychiatric hospitals, NO to torture, NO to animal experiments. You found yourself among the urban guerrillas and the rebels who shouted NO...