Giannis Dimitrakis

I always keep in mind that image of myself, passing by the prison, unconsciously looking up at the high walls and the barbed wire on top. Which prison was it? Whenever I went with some friends by motorcycle to the Nikaia neighborhood, we rode down Grigoriou Lambraki Street, and the stone walls of Korydallos Prison mesmerized me. I don’t know why. Was it because there were times I found myself on the nearby streets—breathing room, but never too close, since all the approaches were completely blocked by the police—simply because of one of the marches in solidarity with comrade prisoners? Or was it perhaps because that enormous, imposing building, so diligently concealing everything going on inside its heart—an entirely unknown world with its own laws and rules, full of heroic stories and human torment—merely piqued my curiosity?

Continue reading Escape from Oblivion (first attempt) 2010 →

Jacques Verges, in his book “The strategy of trial” says: “In any case, it is a fact that every trial hides a political conflict and that justice is steadily full armed to defend the status quo”. A view that reflects with high definition a reality that gets imprinted infinitely on the map of human societies that were organized on the basis of systems which had inequality, un-rightfulness, forcing and exploitation as fundamental elements of their function.
Continue reading The ‘apology’ of Giannis Dimitrakis in his second degree trial for the bank robbery of January 2006 (2010) →

Giannis Dimitrakis

I always keep in mind that image of myself, passing by the prison, unconsciously looking up at the high walls and the barbed wire on top. Which prison was it? Whenever I went with some friends by motorcycle to the Nikaia neighborhood, we rode down Grigoriou Lambraki Street, and the stone walls of Korydallos Prison mesmerized me. I don’t know why. Was it because there were times I found myself on the nearby streets—breathing room, but never too close, since all the approaches were completely blocked by the police—simply because of one of the marches in solidarity with comrade prisoners? Or was it perhaps because that enormous, imposing building, so diligently concealing everything going on inside its heart—an entirely unknown world with its own laws and rules, full of heroic stories and human torment—merely piqued my curiosity?
Continue reading Escape from Oblivion (first attempt) →