It was late November when, as an embryo, I decided to seek refuge in the womb of Jovanna Gavalas, who kept me there with the best care for nine whole months... I thanked her for the first time after six months when I learned to say "mom" and to hug... She breastfed me for two and a half years, and this remains a provision for me even today at seventy... On my journey, I had as a driving force sometimes wings and sometimes gears, batteries, and gas... I surrendered to the embrace of Morpheus only after I had first rested on my favorite mattress... I woke up with the whistle of rest when it was tired of "hosting" me. I died only from laughter and lived to live today... Memory and souvenir are in the hands of death, who remains displaced by my positive energy... I will become a book because only in this way can a life be squeezed onto a shelf, because only in this way can anyone leaf through you, only in this way can they make you kindling for their fireplace, only in this way can they make you more widely known... Happy reading. Lakis Gavalas