Dear friend—

​No.

​My harmonious one, my sweet oce—

No.

My dear beloved.

Or rather—

Terrible child!

My breath.

My man.

My crown.

No. No. No.

Doesn't the truth deserve even a single word?

Do not call me beloved if I am not. Do not send me your warm regards if you do not truly mean them. Sing me a song instead. Perhaps I will understand more. Is that too much to ask?

Outside, drums, trumpets, and choral music pierce the silence. Saint-Saëns, Holst, Baltas, van der Laag, and Polemis intertwine with the words of Seferis, Sikelianos, Rimbaud, Verlaine, and a Portuguese nun. Or perhaps they are my own?

I wanted to end by signing, Forever yours. Nothing could be more misleading. Better to say je reviens. Sung. Will this phrase become the permanent closing line of the letters I never sent?

Let us drink to that!

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Direction: Kostis Glykantzis

Photos: Kostis Glykantzis

Supported by: Artivistas Productions

Sunday, 9 March, 9:00 p.m.

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