At the entrance of the café there is a stone with the same shape as the earth's navel. Dogs never urinate on it and everyone who comes for the first time passes by as if someone is sleeping there and they are careful not to step on it. "Calamari-octopus," it says on the sign of the shop, a flag of the land and one of the sea on the other. All weathers pour out from there and dominate. Giorgos, as if he guesses the orders, says them before everything, in front of his eyes, as if conversations with unknown people that left there for the first time were interrupted and they felt like they reached their destination. He always brings them enough sensible portions that leave room for wine and the siege of Mesolongi.