I
met Nick last week at a friend's party. We
talked about this and that for
a while until
I noticed
that his big smile never left him. At
such hard times, how
did
he manage
to keep on smiling?
“It's
finally
official,”
he told me. “Seventy
years ago, the
registrar made a mistake. My real family name is Paleologos, not
Paleologou, as we are called.”
“Can
a single letter make such a big deal?”
“A
huge one. You
see, my
family's origin is from a village close
to upper Kardamili in Mani. And that's
where
the brother of the last Emperor of Byzantium hid from the Turks and
settled down. The
dynasty of Paleologos was the longest in Byzantium. I must be their
direct descendant!”
Reader,
I am not a young man any more so I have watched myself bleed many
times. And
even though I don't suffer from colour blindness, I
can't be certain if my blood colour is closer to pink than black.
There
is one thing however
I
am damn sure of: not once did it appear to be blue. Unlike smiling
Nick
I have no claims to royalty. But ever since I was in high school, I
had
this bug inside me. Where did
I come from?
