It took Nikos Dimou fifteen years to complete his autobiography. Parts of it have been published separately - but now, for the first time, the work appears in its entirety in a single volume of 720 pages. The various sections of the book have been named after the streets where the author lived for the greater part of his life. The fourth and last section, heretofore unpublished and intimately revealing, is entitled Paraschou Street. On these streets Nikos Dimou played as a child, fell in love as an adolescent, went hungry as a young man, laboured, enjoyed, fell ill, was disappointed. He exercised many different professions: he got involved in literature, philosophy, advertising, journalism, photography, informatics. He met with success frequently, but not where he would have chosen. This book, which it has taken a lifetime to write, is not an autobiography. It is a profoundly honest and harrowingly sincere confession of the soul. A descent into the difficult paradise of childhood, the tyranny of adolescence, the toughness of maturity and the sadness of old age. In the author’s own words: “I lived my life so as to write this book”.