Ian Stratis

Paris and Michaela grew up together, in a seaside town that smelled of salt, memories, innocence, but also lies, repressed emotion and repression. The two of them, tied by that thread that had no name. It was neither friendship, nor love, nor blood. It was all together. Until it was nothing. You don't kill love with a knife. You kill it with a word that shouldn't have been said. One sentence from Paris destroyed everything. She, who listened to him without being supposed to, left.

Christmas Eve, in a camp somewhere on the Greek-Turkish border in Evros. A taxi pulls up outside the gate and drops off an unaccompanied baby. The taxi driver informs the guard post that the baby's mother is sending him to his father, who is serving in the army. That's when it all begins...

Paris and Michaela grew up together, in a seaside town that smelled of salt, memories, innocence, but also lies, repressed emotion and repression. The two of them, tied by that thread that had no name. It was neither friendship, nor love, nor blood. It was all together. Until it was nothing. You don't kill love with a knife. You kill it with a word that shouldn't have been said. One sentence from Paris destroyed everything. She, who listened to him without being supposed to, left.