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which, though a narrative in itself, he would have big trouble putting into words, however much he knew it by heart – much like they his own.

Τhat she wasn’t a typical western-European either though, he could somehow tell. At least – any sim-plistic generalisations being far from Babis to make – compared to those that had found nothing better (and yes, that spoke volumes about who they really were) than to choose the busiest island in Greece as their holiday destination, an island which the more sophis-ticated ones, having visited at sixteen when it was still untouched, would never ever return to again, not even if you paid them to.

An island that, essentially, as long as it turned out to be value for money and recharged their batteries be-fore returning home back to the salt mines, it didn’t matter to them one-bit which island it was, if it was even an island, and which country it belonged to. And this particular one was offering itself up like a prosti-tute. The charter flights that connected it to the rest of Europe in the summer, the relatively cheap sunbeds and the drinks, even if, who knows why, they always gave you a massive headache the next day, its genuine five star hotels, the immense heated swimming pools practically two steps away from the sea, the endless