Brothers and sisters we are, we are not Greeks or Turks, let's just call ourselves Cypriots, no other labeling, no more atrocities, erase the pain and live in peace just like then when o Krokos drank coffe with Mourat in Theoulos' coffee house.

They were smart enough to know that they shouldn't even look at the hate trees that had been planted by those who wished to eat their fruit one day. The big shots, the politicians, and the money-makers.

The companies buying the land in Varosi and Yialousa so their souls can be encrusted in bloody gold when they descend in the unknown. And beautiful Eftakomi and Yiouti and Krokos and Mourat untouched by all and alive still.


Despina, US

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