The Gate of Lions in Mycenae unfolds the world of Homer. It unfolds the childhood of Greece. And if we take the fairy tale upon us, it unfolds, let's say, the mythology of the childhood of each one of us. But mainly, the Gate of Lions opens our gaze to the Aegean seas. It speaks to us about the fleet of a thousand sailors. About the thirsty deer at the priest's altar. About the north wind that cooled the ships. The Gate of Lions takes us from the fire of Troy to the sacking of the City. And from the sacking of the City to the fire of Smyrna. We count the footsteps of the horses for thirty centuries to tread on its cobblestones. And until today, we find the waters alive and the colors fresh. We count the hundreds of millions of dollars we paid last year to Miraz and Efdekaxi, to ferries and frigates.

To protect the Greek Aegean from the generations of Homer. And we will pay for them this year and tomorrow. Collected from the toils and the pot of life of a people for the schools, the factories, and the hospitals, which do not allow him to build them. The Gate of Lions is open. Little Greece with big eyes and a slender body crowds and passes. And today.