GABRIEL MELISSOURGAKIS, CHRISTOS HANTZIS
Bus 550
ed. Diaulos, p. 48

Among all the possible connections and groupings of people, visible or invisible to the naked eye, having or not having great importance in life and described with beautiful, and sometimes pathetic words, as a partner, classmate, colleague or fellow countryman, there is one that is not really given the attention it deserves, even from those involved: it is a bond shared by fellow travelers on public transport.

Reading the comic “Bus 550” by Gavriil Melissurgakis and Christos Khandzis, at first glance, one gets the feeling that this is exactly what we are talking about: a single gallery of fellow travelers of one of the most cross-class and cross-seat vehicles. in metropolitan Athens, bus 550, which leaves every dawn from the cool plain of Kifisia towards the sea breeze of Faliros (and vice versa), taking on its seats or on the arms of young and old, manual laborers and people of the spirit, melancholic or optimistic, people who, after all, who, yes, and yet, they are connected by some common fate, and this is their frozen, relaxed, extremely fast, painfully slow everyday life.

Gabriel Melissourgakis, himself a devoted patron of the 550s, observes this daily life with due attention and draws its protagonists on his tablet with dynamic and loose pencils, which sometimes resemble engravings or an intricate ball, and which, however, respectfully convey the beauty of ordinary people. And Christos Khantzis, an observer of Melissurgaki’s essays, in turn, accompanies them, when necessary, with texts that, precisely because they do not explain the obvious and do not pretend to be what everyone said, manage to maintain their sensitivity and self-mocking. and hint at much more than can objectively fit on the bus.

Window cleaner with his pole like a knight. A teacher with a kind face that children may or may not like. A woman in black glasses hiding her tears, a young man looking through photos of yesteryear on his mobile phone and maybe that way he will get to work more boldly. And a person who constantly looks outward does not lose his attitude, the child hidden under the hood, but also his deeds, humble and therefore great, like a caress in his hair or a hand holding tightly to the yellow iron bar of the bus.

Small, everyday moments, that is, the greatness of which and their connecting thread someone noticed and embodied in an image, someone expanded with the magic of words and all this in a narrative, the power of which is half of its perfect ellipsis, and the other half of mental space, empathy and understanding of human things.