Moments are important, not time. A moment is inspiration, time is thought. And inspiration was never a friend of contemplation. A moment is what leaves a mark. Time opens wounds. A spark, a flash is what you remember. And it was a moment that captured in just three words tragedy, hope, expectation, belief, threat, reminder and conviction: «I won’t forget.» Just three little words. A few letters incorporating a massive force, the impulse of thousands of torrents. «I won’t forget:» Three golden green leaves strewn upon the sea of the world that are borne away by the river of occupation, war, madness and state terrorism. These three words have no homeland. They could be imprinted on the mind of Varnavas from Cyprus, Sharif from Gaza, Yitzhak from Haifa, Gaby from Beirut and Said from Baghdad. «I won’t forget,» because I don’t want to forget. A little phrase, negative, but full of a powerful aura that brings hope of something better. The more international public opinion shaped by the media tries to convince us otherwise, the more the toadies of the powerful try to pressure us, the more those three little words, now translated into so many languages, will last. «I won’t forget.» It is not permitted, not by the mother of Nikos who is still missing, the wife of the abducted conscript, the fellow pupil of the child who lost his arms in Basra, the terrified eyes of the girl in the Christian quarter of Beirut, or the children of the pilot shot down over the Aegean. My books, my old records and posters won’t allow me to forget. I won’t forget because I read. Because I remember, I learn. And because I learn, I am concerned, I participate. Because I don’t want to forget, I search. And because I search, I live.