It has been six years since Themos escaped this life. How did six winters pass so quickly? How did time, since his untimely loss, slip away like a shadow?

These are not futile questions when they mournfully evoke the void left by his bitter loss, yet they are useless to nostalgically contain the story of a man who always escaped clichés, conventions, and classifications.

But he never ran away. He did not secretly flee from the responsible legacy he left behind. He did not vanish like smoke from his symbolic heritage. His imprint remains resiliently visible. Unfadingly present, indelibly sealing the sense of urgency and continuity.

His influence as a seal remains intact and vivid. Sparkling, unpredictable, subversive, yet always precise. He masterfully walks the paths of storytelling. He experiments inspiringly in the here and now. The charismatic trace of his compassionate generosity, his personal sensitivity, and his sincere humanism is found all around. Alongside his ideas, thoughts, dreams, and creative spirit.

Sadly, Themos is not resting carelessly somewhere nearby. The harsh truth is that his body rests in a grave among the rocks of Gerolimenas, gazing out at the sea.

Yet the spirit of his contribution to his fellow humans, as well as his combative dedication to independent journalism, lingers with unbroken clarity in the minds of his relatives, friends, and collaborators.

The image of him is recalled with solid clarity in the memories of countless ordinary people. And though relentless, unforgiving time flows on, those who remain in memory are never forgotten.