The Greek Letter

This Greek tragedy only involved the lowercase letters. The uppercase ones were exempt as they always are in everyday life, being uppity and larger, especially in comparison with the lowercase derelicts of existence, which are overused and even abused, a few of them much more than the others. It is thus no wonder that a tragedy ensued, which by the way can occur to any timeworn language, although in this case it happened to Greek.

Γνῶθι σεαυτόν (Gnóthi se’aftón): Know yourself (an aphorism inscribed over the entrance to the temple of Apollo in Delphi)!

α

I can be a ribbon of excellence, as I am álfa, always first and the mostest in anything both tangible and intangible. I tend to begin but I can also end. I am loved and even adored. I incorporate a circle but I have two paths; one in and one out: in from the bottom and out from the top, and in from the top and out from the bottom. I am thus beautiful in three ways. I even love myself. I could never be the object of a tragedy.

β

I may look like Anthi’s bra before ’tis off by her hands or those of M. I am, however, classically beautiful, no matter who wears me and takes me away. I am víta and thus vital to any woman who wants to appear womanly. I protect and hold in place. I accentuate the breasts within me. I have a strap, but I can have two and even be strapless. I am loved by everyone and even adored by many. I could never be the object of a tragedy.

γ

I was used by David to kill Goliath. I am an instrument of war and thus an instrument of death. But I can also be playful as long as care is regarded as higher than risk. I am gámma and a slingshot against the meanest eyes who always use me to hurt, since their ego drives their so-called head. I am also like a tree with two branches, and there lies my greatness. I may look it at first, but I could never be the object of a tragedy.

δ

I am a circle with one way in, but I look like a duck hopefully still free to roam and remain alive. I can be first, but I am always fourth in a count, since délta is my name from any angle and many a path. Some find me enticing and even sexy from behind. Anyone can penetrate me, but then no one can leave, remaining within me like a permanent pregnancy. Still, no matter the scheme, I could never be the object of a tragedy.

ε

Some can see me like breasts observed from the left, or even a cute ass from the same direction. Yet, I balance in the centre between two halves. I am liked, loved and even adored in some circles, no matter the gender or the sex. Even my name is alluring. How else could one construe épsilon, my three syllables of femininity? I am exotically beautiful and very soft to the touch. I certainly could never be the object of a tragedy.

ζ

String theory looks like a dead end, with too many strings or not enough; no one really knows, but the path is surely lost. Where am I, where is zíta in all those strings? Perhaps I hold the key to the unification field theory in particle physics. I may look ancient yet ma-jestic, but some may perceive in me the semblance of a snake. No way in heaven and even hell that I bite, unless in jest or while making love. I thus could never be the object of a tragedy.

η

I am always hungry for Anthi. I want to eat her. What does that have to do with me, the letter, íta? I look like an n with one long leg, but I also resemble Anthi’s tongue when she takes it out of her beautiful mouth and shows it to M, as if to say, I win but I still love you. She already won both his mind and his heart. So, what else could she have won? His eyes. His Anthi is always lovable, funny, or both, and thus I could never be the object of a tragedy.

θ

I am not íta; I am thíta. I am not being cute, although I am in any way that you look at me. I appear like a middle-split ellipse as well as a cat’s eye. Does it matter really which one I am or you prefer? I am what I am and I feel complete, even if my whole is partitioned be-tween top and bottom. Both of my parts are equal unlike most things in life. I have no issues and I am well-balanced, and thus I could never be the object of a tragedy.

ι

I may be small but I am strong, and M thinks that I look like an Ikea tool, which he despises, Ikea, that is, for killing millions of trees every freaking year. I am ióta and I can easily hide against many letters. Why would I hide? Why would I not? I am free to do so if I want to and be whatever I want to be or become. I am the littlest letter but it does not make an iota of difference, for I am proud and thus could never be the object of a tragedy.

κ

I am the only letter that M does not like, but only because I remind him of the letter k, which he dislikes. I am káppa, not k, so go fly a kite, M! I may look like a fallen fancy stool, or someone weary, half-standing against a wall. What is wrong with humans who tend to see the dark side of anything? Anthi knows what I mean. Am I wrong, Anthí mou (my Anthi)? She already replied in my mind. I too, she agrees, could never be the object of a tragedy.

λ

Anthí mou! Where have you been living, Anthí mou? Where have you been blooming, Anthí mou? Anthí mou, I love you. Anthí mou! Yes, I am lámvda, the sound that starts love and life in the Bard’s tongue but not in Greek. This is an English text and perhaps the reason why I may look like an awkward alien to those not from the Greek persuasion. I am fine with it since I am tall and lovelorn. I could never ever be the object of a tragedy.

μ

Hey, you! Who, me? Yes, you! I do not look like me, but only you can see it. Do you see what I mean, Anthí mou? She is nodding her head and smiling. I feel like butter when she smiles. As for me; I mean the Greek letter; I am a “u” with a longer start, but I also look like a heartbeat on an electrocardiogram. Am I the birth of a tragedy? I think not. Are you kidding? There is too much me in me to ever be the object of a tragedy.

ν

I am ne, not v, but I look like a short cute sign of victory. You can already guess the last phrase, but I will pursue my quest for the best phase. I also stand for velocity in physics, M’s favourite field, although now, Anthi has become his only pursuit, even when she is next to him. Anthí mou is the only thought that he likes to think and visualise. He even has vignettes of her playing in his head. I could thus never be the object of a tragedy.

ξ

I am xi but not a sea of kays. M would have hated me had I been such a mess. I look like a string with a split personality, although one of the two, the one at the base, is dominant most of the time. However, I look like Anthi’s bra again, although of another stripe and with a little more lace. I am easy to put on but harder to remove. Anthi loves to wear it when she is mischievous, and then giggles as M tries to take it off. I could never be the object of a tragedy.

ο

O ómikron, I often tell myself. I look like a zero whether big or small. I can also roll and roll until I stop, usually when I see Anthi. I know that I am not M, but he is the one writing this in case you forgot. Anthi is all over his mind. He sees her everywhere, even in his salad. And when she smiles, his mind melts. I am a Greek letter, the short-sounding o (micro) — actually one in several languages — and I too love Anthi. I surely could never be the object of a tragedy.

π

I am useful for every circle, circumference and radius; for everything round, really. I am as Greek as Zeus, and I am still here. I am pi and I look like the start of a house. One beam and two columns. I am a trinity. M loves me but he loves Anthi so much more. He even used me to calculate the skirt of all her circles. I have seen strange fellows in my existence, but this one is a crazy cat. He never scratches but he loves to lick, her, that is. I could never be the object of a tragedy.

ρ

I look like a dripping o, yet I am ró. M even uses me in his weird signature, although most signatures are strange, and some are simply WTFs. Ró, ró, ró my love slowly to my Anthi. Happily, joyfully, cheerily, my life with her is bliss. I love you, my Anthi. Sorry, ró! Go ahead! What can I say after your outburst, M? Well, ró; I know one thing that you can surely say. Yes, I know. I could never be the object of a tragedy :-p

ς

I am the sígma that can only appear at the end of a word. I am a final letter. I am the end in a certain way, but luckily, I am cute, like a fancy c, or a snake. I know that most of you think that a snake is frightening. Stupid Adam ate the apple. The snake had nothing to do with it. It only said, ssss, ssss, ssss, ssss; once for every season. It suffered an injustice because it looks slippery and long like a prick. Even I could never be the object of a tragedy.

σ

I am sígma as well and somewhat better than my fellow s sound of the end. I am like a yoyo ready to go. No? Yes! Perhaps! I do not know. I am confused right now since M — who else — uses me all the time around Anthi, his true soul. When he sees her, he suffers, and sometimes succumbs to the sound of her song. He listens to her sing when she speaks. She is his supernova. All these s sounds can only mean that I can never be the object of a tragedy.

τ

Who am I? I am taf. What? You read me. I look like a cute hammer that Thor could never have used, even when he was a tot. I may look timid but I am really a tease. Anthi uses me all the time, especially when she takes out her tongue. I love you, my Anthi. You are so tender when I taste you. My tentacles touch you and trigger tears, as you titillate my tactility totally. I thus can never, and I mean never, be the object of a tragedy, even if the word starts with me.

υ

I am ípsilon, a cousin of épsilon from time to time, when we are together and one sound takes over the other. It is a type of timeshare, but we never screw each other. We are fami-ly and Greek, after all. I can also stand for velocity and vitesse (speed, in French). I look like a fancy ne. I have nicer curves, but not even close to Anthi’s figure. O Anthi! “Yes, my M!” I love you more than all the letters combined. “I know, my love.” I too could never be the object of a tragedy.

φ

How do you feel, M? Anthi-drunk all day and all night. I feel the opposite, of course, being fi and looking like a nil with my resemblance to the null character. Yet, when I look at myself in the mirror, I see finesse, flair and fashion. I am fantastic and free to feel the effect of my life on my sphere and fixed framework. I can even say fuck whether you like it or not. I may be perfect for a comedy and thus could never be the object of a tragedy.

χ

I sound like the start of a spit. Yes, I am chi. I am used for the chi-square statistic, but I am always mispronounced. No one wants to initiate a spit in order to pronounce me. I do not sound like church or Charlie; I sound like L’chaim (To life, in Hebrew). Nevertheless, I look like an X, which often signifies wrong, bad and poison. Chara, in Hebrew, means shit. I can, unfortunately, be the object of a tragedy. Woe on me! Why do I look this way?

ψ

I am the symbol of psychology in my uppercase form. What did you expect? There is no respect for the lowercase. I am psi and I look like a cactus or a fork for the gods. By Zeus, I am also like a three-branched tree and thus a type of trinity. M keeps a version of me by his side in case he sees a roach. Anthi always laughs when she sees him with it. I think that he does it to hear her laugh. He loves her more than his life. I could never be the object of a tragedy.

ω

I am very expensive when I am inscribed on a watch. I am oméga but seldom the end. I look like two breasts with no bra. M loves me because I remind him of Anthi, especially in the morning, in the afternoon and at night. I am the last letter, so I was made to symbolise death. If you prick me, I say o — the long-sounding o (mega) — and ah and ne me touche pas (do not touch me, in French). I love you, my Anthi. I am sorry but that was M. I also could never be the object of a tragedy.

As you have read, only 1 lowercase letter out of 25 can be the object of a tragedy, which could work, since a tragedy requires at least one tragic figure. χ is the Antigone of this story. I exaggerate, of course. But where is the tragedy? you may ask. I think that it is sad that a letter, and a lowercase one at that, can be deemed like M (I mean me) regarded it. It is unfortunate but one letter had to be sacrificed to the subtitle. Had it been the title, at least two letters would have been judged to be objects of a tragedy. Come on, M! Where is the tragedy? This is it. I am happy with Anthi. I can only write about love, foolishness and misunderstandings. I cannot even conceive of a worse tragedy than considering a Greek letter as the object of one. But if you still insist, you can always listen to the news, read a good bloody history book, watch a war movie or Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet, or put on or take off your mask and scream: Fuck you COVID-19 and every one of your strains! Any one of these is a type of tragedy. Chara!