If the lagocephalus didn't exist, we would have to invent it.

The seahorse is an absolutely useful fish. First of all, if you are publishing and have nothing to say about energy poverty or the expensive household basket, you can refer to the topic "seahorse and other monsters of the seabed". Should bathers touch it or avoid it? Should they take pictures with it or pretend they didn't see it? Do you scream, after all, in front of the seahorse or do you breathe like you learned in yoga? Yes, there are problems and problems, but imagine swimming and it finds you and bites you. It's a mistake.

The fish, although it could function as a symbol and summary of the degradation of the country's marine wealth, plays other, Hollywood games. Its teeth, its eye, its skin attract attention. Thus, the harefish is what it is and not a general comment on dirty water, Greece as a garbage dump, overfishing, the absence of maintenance projects, etc. The harefish could, however, be seen as a comment on the high decibels of Greece in the summer – we are not sure that they do not cause teratogenesis. It could be a normal reaction of the water world to the occupation of coastal areas by jeeps and club sandwich shops. The harefish's puzzled expression is the most expected reaction to all of this. Its toxin is its revenge.

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The eel is our friend, because it is comforting. I don't know if it really bites that much, but my friend who has not had a chance in the sun and who has not known her address since September (because of rent, loans, banks) is wildly comforted by the eel. She told me characteristically: what vacation should I go on? Let the eel and the jellyfish eat me? Imagine looking for a house in Athens in forty-five degrees. To cross Syggrou and up there to be found by the strangest thoughts, like: what would Syggrou be like if it were a river? Charilaou Trikoupi? From house to house, from apartment building to apartment building, sweat forms pools on your T-shirt and fatigue becomes despair. Up there, the eel comes to tell you: don't be silent, it's not good even on the beaches.

The lagocephalus is the public opinion that looks at the glossy news like a cat at a laser. It is the information in the age of Facebook, Instagram and the "unmediated". It is the result of a prioritization of news by algorithms and journalists who are nothing without clicks.

The lagocephalus himself seems to have come from an AI painting, from the future of the climate crisis, and from the depths of the ages. He is the result of decades of addiction to horror and panic. He gives the feeling that those who fall asleep consuming podcasts of murder and gossip seek: a relaxing shiver down their spine, a miserable glee based on the permanent illusion that others are always worse off.

The lagocephalus is ticklish. Wandering in the territory of manageable fear of something specific. Research shows that Greeks are in permanent stress about the future – the future, however, is abstract. Few have hope, faith and vision, but all of these are abstract and their absence even more abstract! With a little lagocephalus you forget. The trick is to feel secure in your insecurity, a winner from the locker room. Every day that you don't rub yourself with the acidic, splattered shit is a victory.

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Although the press releases will range from very select to rare, I said I'd pass...because sometimes the editors hide.