PROLOGUE

August 1975. In the female section of the Korydallos prison, in an especially created courtroom, the trial of the leaders of the coup d’etat of April 21st,1967 is being held. I am present daily since as “first” petitioner of the junta, I have been called as a plaintiff. The public watching the trial is few in number. One morning, a tall thin girl comes into the room, a beauty. All heads turn her way. And mine first of all! “Who is she?” I ask. “The wife of Roufogalis.” I am surprised. In appearance she doesn’t fit into the climate of the Aprilians’ trial. And yet there she is, and during the break approaches and speaks with her accused husband. “Certainly she must hate me,” I think.

All this came to my mind when a few days ago, my friend, the publisher Christos Zambounis, asked me to read Della’s book. And again I was surprised. “When and why did she decide to write?” I wondered. “What does she have to offer in the daily flood of new publications?” I found the answer as I was finishing the book in one night: A charming and emotional autobiographical escape, directly and sincerely telling all. Della elaborates with ease, without confusing her life’s events. She wants to remember and record everything. The poverty of her childhood years, the worries of adolescence, the pleasures, the comforts and boredom of the worldly life everywhere, the trap of wealth, the vanity of power, the magic of submission to love, the agony of abandonment, the pain of ingratitude. At some moments she gets carried away into drawn out descriptions. Others provoke quite an impression through her dense, straight-forward and rhythmic writing. She does not look to shock. She does not try to embellish and dress up her course. She does not hide. On the contrary, she reveals herself and if I may say so, with dignity and candor.

                                                                                                         Alexandros Lykourezos