Everything began again one summer evening, in a luxury hotel built in the heart of the region that was formerly Thrace. Perhaps I had drunk too much, even though alcohol doesn't harm my secular liver like some vulgar organ. Or perhaps it was the place, but with each glass that was consumed my memory was set in motion. I was ready to listen, to come back to my roots, as the saying goes. The problem was that these roots are so deep that I can't see the end.