NOON
By Efthimis Filippou

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NOON is a collection of six works written by Efthimis Filippou:
Apologiae 4 & 5; Scenes; Various Picks Petros; Rob; Haemata; and Liver. 

NOON is available as a limited edition box set (pictured) and eBook.

Purchase NOON box set (Limited Edition)
€ 100


Purchase NOON eBook
(EPUB)
€ 10 
COMING SOON
 

︎ View cart



Purchase NOON box set (Limited Edition)
€ 100


Purchase NOON eBook
(EPUB)
€ 10 
COMING SOON


NOON is a collection of six works written by Efthimis Filippou: Apologiae 4 & 5; Scenes; Various Picks Petros; Rob; Haemata; and Liver. 

NOON is available as a limited edition box set (pictured) and eBook.


︎ View cart



Apologiae 4 & 5
Fiction by Efthimis Filippou
Translated by Kyriacos Karseras


Book One of the NOON collection
First English-language edition


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A man, around 40 years old, steps out from the chorus and comes forward to take on the role of the examiner. He goes down on one knee, puts his right hand over his heart, and gently tugs a tuft of hair on his head with his left. A woman and a man stand waiting at the very back. They have taken on the roles of the examined.

E    If swimming gives me pleasure, may I never dive again into clear blue waters. If I sleep soundly at night, may my pillow turn to stone and my sheet to steel. If I say interesting things, may I lisp only trivial things in my conversations from now on. I will tell the truth. If I do not tell the truth tonight, then I am not worthy of standing here before you tonight. I was born in February 1976. I could not under any circumstances drink water from the same glass every day, or sleep set hours every day, for example. Then time would pass in too fixed a rhythm and that would drive me mad in the head. We… I used to say a prayer before sleep every night. If I didn’t say it for a couple of days, it felt strange. Every day the same action. I could add phrases to the prayer. I could embellish it, I mean, fill parts in, but never take out the old bits. And so the prayer became useless. Because I grew up and got old, and had to ask God’s forgiveness for trivial mistakes, little mistakes I’d made as a child. I stopped saying the prayer when I left the village. I remember the day I quit crying. We had a dog, but they killed him. He was dying, foaming at the mouth. They took him someplace else to die. I went into the house and cried. Then I got up, sat in the armchair opposite the television, and watched Wheel of Fortune. That’s the day I cried for the last time, that’s the day I quit crying. I’m an archaeologist. Digging doesn’t tire me out at all. Little bits of smashed pottery are called sherds. They bring me the excavated sherds and I lay them out on tables. And I describe them. Classify them. One by one and all.

C    Do you classify Early Bronze Age sherds?

E    Early, Late, anything really. Anything. Students sit beside me, close by me. If I’m here, then they’re somewhere over there, let’s say. In there. I’d also like to mention something else at this point. That thing people say, that something has to be difficult to be worth it, or elusive to be worth it, or wild or bitter or painful to be worth it – no, I don’t believe that. If something can give me pleasure, even a little pleasure, then that’s what I’ll choose. When it comes to food or anything else. Though, in my opinion, we should always tell the truth, we should always do things right though. I’m not the one to say what’s right, but then again maybe I am. Maybe I’m the only one who can say what’s right. Other people wake up in the morning, but not me. That means I don’t sleep when others sleep. I can’t align my sleep with everyone else. I sleep when they’re awake, and vice versa. If you look carefully, you’ll notice one of my eyebrows sits higher than the other. I was hit by a car in Thessaloniki. They put a bit of plastic over my eyebrow and stitched me up. That’s why it’s like that. When I was little, back in the village, a boy called me something, so I grabbed him by the hair and spun him round quite a bit. Mother said she was pleased I beat him up.

C    What did the boy call you that made you spin him round?



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