Growing up on the streets of Athens, a memory always brings back a smile. The travelling smell of a local grill house cooking souvlakia, penetrating our very being through the open windows along with the summer breeze. Countless fights with mothers and grandmothers to let us eat one for dinner or on the way back from school rather than what they had prepared. To this day, I don’t think we wanted to eat them because of the taste, but because of the ritual. This and many more stories of a youth spent on the street of Athens, brought us together out of nowhere, like the secret oath of a revolution that no one knew was about to begin.