Tami Zafeiropoulou

You “left,” and there was no time to grieve. Life demanded productivity, as though mourning could be postponed indefinitely. My sorrow transformed into saved articles, wellness posts, and unread guides on healing. Algorithms consumed my sadness and returned strategies for recovery, while I continued collecting knowledge without ever finding time to process it. You “left,” and your chemo pills remained in the fridge, confronting me each time I tried to nourish myself. Toxic to human skin, they became a persistent reminder of absence and survival. Am I in denial? No. Όχι (ochi), the Greek word for no, becomes both refusal and acceptance.