During the 1960s in Greece, among other things, the biggest domestic movie stars emerged. One of them was me, Victor Notaras. Few people knew that my first teenage steps were taken in the infamous alleys of the most sinful neighborhood, Trouba, with the brothels and women selling cheap love, first as a lover and then as a drug mule. My future was uncertain, but I didn't care. And why should I? I was young, charming, I didn't go unnoticed. A whim of fate made me a leading actor in films overnight, I became what they called a movie star, a star? I don't know how the hell I soared so high, others decided that, not me. Soon I left for abroad, made a career there too. I had it all. Youth, fame, money. Women raved for my autograph, much more for a night with me. I didn't appreciate anything... Nothing.
Unable to manage my enormous fame, I did everything to tarnish my name, to trample on my genuine talent, to destroy my image, to shatter my idol. Until I realized that I wasn't the perpetrator I believed, that everyone believed, I was the victim. But it was too late. You see, when idols shatter, they "kill" them.

Can a mistake of youth bring about a reversal? Can it be the reason to reconsider our entire life? To be reborn? Maybe...