О’о±пѓоїо»о·п‚ О О±пђо±оєп‰оѕпѓп„о±оѕп„оїоѕоїп… -: О€п‡п‰ О±оѕо¬оіоєо· | Vasilis...

He thought of the factory where he’d spent thirty years, the gears that had eventually ground his youth into dust. He thought of the small apartment on the fifth floor where his wife’s laughter used to echo, now replaced by the rhythmic ticking of a clock that seemed to mock his solitude.

Elias sat at the far end of the scarred wooden bar, his fingers tracing the condensation on a glass of ouzo. He wasn’t a man of many words, but tonight, the silence felt heavy, like a coat that no longer fit. He thought of the factory where he’d spent

Elias stood up, drained his glass, and left a crumpled bill on the counter. He didn't need a map or a destination. As he stepped out into the cool night air, the lyrics followed him into the street. He wasn’t a man of many words, but

The jukebox in the corner, a relic of a louder era, crackled to life. A familiar rasping voice filled the room, singing about a need that goes deeper than bread or water. “Έχω ανάγκη...” As he stepped out into the cool night