I was born in a small mountainous village of Greece one cold night of January. I grew up in the damp city of Patras, Brought up with all available "luxuries", within a post civil war atmosphere.
I dreamed, I loved, I fought, I sought, I sang, I sighed. Normal things for someone of my age.

So, there is nothing enigmatic about my life. But I rather exploit a W.H.Auden's poem as a biography :

A shilling life will give you all the facts:
How Father beat him, how he run away,
What were the struggles of his youth, what acts
Made him the greatest figure of his day:
Of how he fought, fished, hunted worked all night
Though giddy, climbed new mountains; named a sea.
Some of the last researchers even write
Love made him weep his pints like you and me.

With all his honors on, he sighed for one
Who, say astonished critics, lived at home;
Did little jobs about the house with skill
And nothing else; could whistle; would sit still
Or potter around the garden; answered some
Of his long marvelous letters but kept none.