31.10.2021
For my generation
This one goes to my generation, to those near forty, to those I think I've known forever, those we used to spend nights awake in squares together decades ago. Children from a thousand corners and neighbourhoods are my generation, who have played in the dirt and have bled in the empty lots, which still existed.We came out at the end of the 20th century, went on bikerides, secretly, from Kifisia to Drapetsona, my generation, because it doesn't fit on a stage, with no backyards, our backyard would become the whole city
And all the streets would lead us to loved ones' hang out spots, but asphalt, underground crossings and railroad tracks.
My generation, as you say, has walked the ways, solved the differences, united the neighbourhoods, mocked the childish rivalries of yesterday, it doesn't judge you by your origin, but it will judge you at your destination by your heart and mind.
That's why I'm talking about my generation.
About my generation that has walked roads, that has gotten to know worlds and loved ways of other people, about my generation that is currently paying, but not growing up, about my generation that is bleeding still.
This one goes to my generation, the generation of the Regime Reform, it hasn't lived through the 'stone years', war and refugee status, it had been persuaded by then that the fire's been put out, that heroes have gifted it its Freedom, and so my generation carries the guilt of not having fought for what has been gifted to it, with no persecutions and passions, without a tragedy to scar it, they wondered what name it would take.
They had called it the 'x' generation, my generation, an unknown generation, lost, clueless about the fate that's been waiting for it, comes out of oblivion and finds itself being mortgaged, it isn't free, but with hands and feet tied up.
It's my generation that got tired of owning and having bosses, but never even took the loans.
Now they've orderded it to be brave, but for what ideal and under which flag?
Because my generation has inherited military camps, brothers and sisters that bled, instead of plowing that same land, leaders and parties, flags and colours.
They have thrown it down the trenches, my generation, which slowly, timidly is trying to break the heavy old chains.
This one goes to my generation, which is now called up to make revolutions, my generation that's been put to sleep by schools and televisions.
About my generation that has walked roads, that has gotten to know worlds and loved ways of other people, about my generation that is currently paying, but not growing up, about my generation that is bleeding still.
This one goes to my generation, the generation of globalisation, which doesn't have much in common with its parents and grandparents, and has more in common with other people, from other places. With other languages, other codes, other minds.
That's why my generation has learned to hate the country it lives in, and if it's now vegetating, my generation doesn't care, because my generation here feels like a caged beast.
For my generation borders are just a line.
I'm talking about our own children. They sprung up from every corner, made the country a neighbourhood.
This one goes to those who remain children, who look at you with an innocent gaze, they make the world a neighbourhood, this one goes to my generation, to those who chose to leave, to those who've fallen head on to the struggle, but, above all, to those who still go about the fight of life every day with dignity.
To my generation, that is still bleeding...