The opening of a story

[Kyriakos]

This is the (translation i made of the ) opening of one of the Navarinou stories (as prologued in the thread which is at http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=54471) I hope you like it. :)

This night I met him who is, according to my publicist, my biggest admirer. I stayed in the microscopic apartment in the summit of the building in Navarinou for almost two hours, I discussed with him about my two books- he even had the first one, although that had only circulated for a few hundred copies- and also mentioned to him some ideas of mine for future texts.
I think that in general I managed to behave well towards him, something which wasn’t for granted though, and definitely the decision of the publicist to send me there on my own, without being with me, and without having told me anything about this man- no matter that I believe that this happened after the corresponding plea of the latter- was bad. I have my speculations, though, about the reason why I managed, despite that, not to react negatively even at the first instant when, in the darkness, the door opened, and I saw for the first time the deformed face of my admirer.

[…]

If you are interested i could also write the ending, which i also translated ;)

[adityasam]

Yes, I am interested. There is one thing that bothers me, "microscopic apartment", you could have translated it to another simple word like small or tiny or anything like that.

[Kyriakos]

I have no real knowledge of how "microscopic" sounds in english; it was the word i used in the original greek, so i translated it like that :)
Ok, this is the ending. In between there are some other introductory notes, and a story narrated to the host. The entire story is a diary entry.

[...]

My host seemed to have shown much interest for this tale. He urged me to narrate more to him, but on my part I was forced to claim that the time had passed, and although I was found in the position to have forced onto me to promise that I would duplicate my visit at a future time, at least I managed after a while to find myself again outside of that house. Thus I walked in Navarinou, observing the other passers-by, there was a large crowd along it, everywhere there were discussions, voices were being heard, and with the juxtaposition of this life to the perhaps morbid environment where I was before I passed the last part of the street, and went into a different location.
And, in a while, I was in the bus, touching my cold from the Winter night face onto the analogously frozen window, looking outside, the view where one tree was succeeding the previous one, in an endless progression, which for some reason now was presented in front of me as something that soothes. And was not such a calming sight something entirely forbidden to my host of tonight?
And, with that thought, also realizing the existence of a guilt here, I was left to acquire a sense of my existence as something beautiful, and endlessly hopeful.