Argyris Liotis, in the middle of nowhere, without prying ears present, could call out the names of the six, gather them together, look them in the eye at last, and find the strength to utter even a few words about the dry facts.

He did not even attempt to say a few words about the bare facts in belated letters, because in the past, whenever he lost heart and wanted to write to them, he ultimately lost heart at the idea of the written paper.

He would miss their gaze as soon as they found out, and he had the hope and the need to nestle in their eyes.

But for twenty-nine years, six other pairs of eyes prevented him, all dark copies of the contract with the seven signatures, including his own, from breaking the vow of silence of that night.

Kastaniotis, 2015, 272  p.