Mimis the Mohican – who had nothing to do with a Mohican – was born and raised up in a mountain village half-hidden in a small gorge not far from Olympus. The sun touched the grey-stone-roofed houses only a few hours a day, during which Mimis liked to go for a ride with his horse. The horse, a forgotten beauty of a half-blood, was rather semi-wild compared to most horses fed and trained by humans: only a saddle and even that not always. Mimis and the horse used to gallop along the path and down the gorge into a narrow valley with a crystal clear river. A few years later Mimis moved to Kypseli to live with an uncle of his. When he returned to his village for holidays, his horse was no more there. Sold, or so he was told.
That rainy evening in the classroom however there was a different Mimis sitting at the desk beside the window. He was thinking primarily of pills and cannabis, a business he was introduced to not by some suspicious immigrants in his Athenian neighborhood but by his own family – his uncle and some other siblings. Moreover that different Mimis, firstly because of his dealing duty and secondly because he consumed himself some of the merchandized stuff, barely listened to the story about the doll, the horse and the woman, of which conceived but only random phrases and a distant, uncertain picture of a horse running down a slope.
The teacher on the other hand knew nothing about Mimis and his horse, since most inhabitants of that adventurous, unexplored city had an actual “double life”: they owed a house in a country village, the village of their origin, in whose society a great part of their lives was still involved. Because of that teachers in Athenian schools usually knew but only half (if not less) about their students’ life. From that point of view native Greek students were about the same as non-native ones: they were also sort of immigrants.
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