"Dear Herakles,
The officers took me home the other day and they kind of beat me. My boss is cross with me and I think he would kill me if he went to discover our little exchange. Things are starting to be serious and I'm doing things I would have never done otherwise. I feel different, in a bad way. I have the feeling I'm not the same anymore.
I know I am being egoistic, but I'd like you to be close to me right now… Maybe… I'm going to lose it. I can't explain. I wonder what you would do, if you were me. Of course, you would always choose the right path, the one that won't damage your pride and also the one that would keep everyone safe. I may be older than you but I'm not as wise as you are, despite everyone thinks. I've done something wrong, but I don't even know how. It's like I've been dragged into this against my own will. Well, here, I am making excuses. I think I'm entirely responsible for this. I feel so confused…
I've done horrible things, Herakles. No one deserves what I've done. I've been half-forced into doing these kind of things, and I was scared at the beginning, but then my hatred against China, mostly, took over and there was a strange thrill I felt when doing this. They were not humans anymore. They were oppressors that needed to be erased. I erased them. In the most horrible ways that can cross a human mind. But I'm not a human, am I?
As a nation, I've lived more than two thousand years, but even so, I don't think I could forgive myself for what I've done. Oh, Herakles, if you knew, you would hate me. But then, what if the real me disappears completely until we meet again?
If your God exists, then I would be sent to Hell. But then, I feel that hell is right here surrounding me, and I am the main culprit of its existence. Or is it my boss' fault. I can't tell and nor can you because you don't know. And I wish you would never now, but this can't be helped.
The war is slowly settling in Japan. Here, my people are suffering from deprivation too. But what you and our prisoners are living must be far worse, I think. I wish I was with you. Now, I want to be far away from this world but of course it's impossible, since we are rooted here and must die with this planet. We are not even free of dying, Herakles. Being away from you and seeing me murdering is too much to stand. A human being would have given up since a while, and so would I if I had the luck to be born otherwise.
Please, tell me everything. Anything that's happening by your side, tell me.
I hope you will forgive me one day.
Kiku"
The paper had been, here and there, lightly humidified, and I immediately thought of the tears he shed while writing. He had to be silent, to stay closed in his own sadness because nobody would hear him out, aside from me. But it was only silent, sorrowful words written on paper, and I could never get a real idea of what he was really feeling at that time. Anyway, I had to not tell him anything that was happening at my side, to not sadden him in anyway.
People were starving. There was nothing left to sell or buy, and back there in Athens, you could see people dying of hunger in the street, and more often what was left of their bodies, straightened by the cold outside.
That's when I saw it that I understood it had to end quickly. In other countries, people were telling themselves they can keep living under occupation as long as they denounced, once in a while, their neighbors or acquaintances. They were telling themselves that they had no choice, after all, and most of them wouldn't want to hear about what happened to the ones that were carried away in the camps. I'm certain it happened here in Greece, but not so much, since the whole population was furious, rebellious, completely against the idea of being occupied. No one wanted to starve or to see their beloved carried away.
I entered resistance, because people had to understand that everyone should be moving. The war wasn't going to end on its own. It was only small sabotages at first, but I saw it was straightening people up. To see that the enemy wasn't invincible.
Then, in November, 1942, we blew up the Gorgopothamos path, which was extremely important for the occupant army. For once, all resisting organization had agreed to act.
This was a great feeling of victory.
Well, this was a bit short. I have plenty of ideas in my head, and I already know what to write in the end. I will still take my time to not write silly things. I'm sorry if it gets a bit boring…
