George Mouratidis' verses, gentle and sharp, cradle and smash at the same time. He asks questions that linger unuttered on our lips:
I hear you, σύντροφε
because the thought of ever burying you leaves me lost –
What do I do then? What happens to The Struggle
when you stop coming around?
There will be nowhere near enough
carnations in this world, none
red enough to cover you.