Under the persecution time in Athens, Greece

 

 

I couldn't deny the cold weather of 2012; it had permeated every part of my body with this unusual freezing, and my breaths came with difficulty, cold and endless glaciers. I was alone with my laptop feeling like the last stone of the world waiting to be blown down into the abyss; I looked with deep tenderness at my computer; it was the only thing I had, the only one that would be able to carry my voice and my appeals to the world from the cliff of life in this phase.
I looked at it and it stared at me, like those windows that were blowing in our backyard at my parent's home, while my heart was flooded with dreams. Now it's like I'm watching a tragic piece of cinema, a movie in the middle of winter, the voice of a Starbuck's employee: We will be closing in 10 minutes. With great gratitude I look at her and I say, "Okay". I leave the cafe and continue walking; the city of Athens is not the same at all, and my tears fall down. I say to myself, "Don't cry please," and take another sedative. My laptop and I would stay in the medical school reading room until morning again. I was counting the moments and awaiting my death in Athens.