"It was evening, summer, and the voices of children playing outside in the meadows could be heard from the open balcony door, around a large well. To continue life like this, without anyone caring that at that very moment a precious existence could be lost, seemed unbearable to me. I had nothing left but to ally with defeat. I left for Aegina and never returned except to join the small procession that followed his coffin there, in Kifissia, in a small peaceful cemetery, calm like his soul.
Now all the revolutions had made their way and a flower dared to pronounce its name again. The world returned to Attica the man who borrowed it for a moment. This was not death but a light breeze, and then the birds and their chirping - a continuation of the poetry of the one who was lost here to be found victorious elsewhere, forever, amidst the blue mists of the sky and the white stones."