One day we woke up and the Acropolis was not there.
The photographs had all been erased, the Greek grammar books of Triantafyllides were all empty, the crosses on the mountains had disappeared and no one remembered their children and ancestors.
Our parents were foreigners. And the foreigners, prospective parents.
We were like a boat without oars in the ocean.
Absolute panic prevailed.
Philologists committed hara-kiri, archaeologists fled to Egypt and America, and parents’ and guardians’ associations cried outside schools. The corresponding section of Wikipedia went offline.
And then,
amid the incredible clamor of screaming mothers,
of sewing machines sewing flags
and of angry tourists demanding their money back,
the unthinkable happened:
some people thought for the first time about what they wanted their lives to be like.
