On 31.10 on the third floor of an apartment in Arkadias Street (Athens), during the processing of explosives by my comrade and guerrilla Kyriakos Xymitiris, an explosion took place with the tragic consequence of his death. For a few moments, with me in the next room, time froze, everything went black and I was unable to move. The condition was incomprehensible, the development inconceivable. Buried in the wreckage trying to figure out what had happened;asking for help, searching for my partner with my eyes. Slowly realizing that while the thread of my comrade’s action would be abruptly cut short, his life and his choices in struggle would be a historic flash of determined resistance, consistency and dedication; a springboard and inspiration for further struggle. Two figures appeared offering help while I showed them the spot where I last saw my comrade, the spot where our guilty gazes met, gazes full of anger at the world we live in, full of faith and appetite for moments of true freedom.
Within a few minutes I was in the hospital “Evangelismos”. I was immediately subjected to examinations and operations. I had a hematoma on my head and countless stitches on the upper part of my body. I remained intubated and completely unconscious for the next three days. Enough time for the “anti-“terror scumbags to come to the hospital demanding a blood sample. On the Monday, I regained consciousness and was transferred to the ICU where I was confined for the next three days. The conditions there were decent with medical staff eager to assist in my recovery. However the room was surrounded by police forces who entered the ICU room during the 5-minute visits from my family.
