"My book is a diary; or a public psychoanalysis lacking coherence. I write in almost a conversional tone, as if I were talking to a friend of mine about everything that I am concerned with; my life at the newspaper, my special relationship with my bed, the food, the clothes and the unread books in my bedroom that form a protective wall around me. About my routine in the European museums, the family dinners that terrify me and about my aversion to parts of speech like adjectives and ellipsis. About my compulsion to examine dead animals at the side of the street, my love for Bach and Caravaggio, Peter Brook’s theater and also Bruce Lee movies. I also write about the financial crisis, love, my ambivalent relation with Greece and Germany. About Europe and the embarrassment I feel when trying to say something positive for today’s E.U. About the fruit stalls along the National Road which may actually be the meaning of life. And finally about the movies that make me cry at the most irrelevant scenes."