It was the name of an art bar in Athens. My photographic investigation was surrounded by mystery because, this time, I had to find out for myself who my subjects were. My employer could not disclose that information and although it might seem unusual, I knew it was for safety reasons -my safety. It was one of those times when conceptual projections could not only mislead you, but kill you. So, I entered the bar without expectations and preconceptions, without clinging to thoughts. I was late for the reading of erotic poetry. But I knew instantaneously that my subjects would come to me. I went to the garden. The name of the bar clearly suggested that after the poetry reading some sort of crime would take place. Without expectations of an Agatha Christie plot -but secretly hoping for it, I must admit- I waited. My connection, Dorian loaded a roll of film in his camera. That was the signal. I got up, approached his table and tripped. Four arms reached out for me. The two belonged to a beautiful male creature, the Dandy. In his vintage diamond cufflinks I could read the word "Poems" in cryptic writing. The other two belonged to a sparkling female creature, the Therapist. In her necklace the word "Crimes" was featuring in the same cryptic manner. I knew then that Poems and Crimes were the names of two families of people whose role though, remained to be discovered. One thing I knew with certainty: I had to shoot them both. Since the beginning of my career as a photographic investigator, it was always clear to me that each investigation could be my last one. My intuition told me that this time the possibilities were greater. I took out my camera and when the luminosity of these magnificent beings shone upon me I recognised it as the inner radiance of my own mind.
