Hi. My name is Fotini Antypa and I am twelve and a few months old. I am in seventh grade and I live with my dad and brother, Vassilis, in a neighbourhood in Athens. In a few days it’s my mum’s birthday. If she were alive she would be turning forty. I don’t know how well I remember her. I cannot tell you with certainty if her eyes were blue or green, if she was short or tall - she looked tall to me anyway, because I was really young at the time - or how long her hair was. I do remember that it was orange; I’m not lying - my mum had orange hair. I still remember a smell, lavender mixed with roses, relaxing me, shortly before the goodnight kiss. Dad says that it was her perfume - he has saved the last bottle - but no, it’s not exactly the same smell. Still, at home we have a lot of photographs. Mum as a little girl, mum in secondary school, mum as a bride, mum pregnant, first with Vassilis and then, later, with me. Mum was definitely a very beautiful woman. I have made an album all of my own and I have it in my room. This way I keep in my mind her most beautiful image.