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In response to Zinfads Message...
"Katalýsti o kosmo"
What's a language ? My son ! It's not the words from old manuscripts, that
you are, with difficulty, trying to decipher; nor words engraved on a
antique slab of stone, on a wall, in a cave. Our language is voice, only
You're asking me when it started out, how it got to us, who brought it
towards this land, who learnt it first. Who knows, my son! You shouldn't
care about knowing these things.
Like the fire is our language: it warmed up our lives. Nobody added small
branches, nobody blew on it to heighten the flammes; and now it's burning
out with us.
What's left to you? A bit of ashes, a small white pile: if you go and touch
it, with a black shovel, if you try to find it again, out goes a spark, a
shy spark, and it burns out, with you
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