A philosophical snail, spry and full of myrrh, reflects on the joys of life as he narrates the adventures of his allotted course with the artful sarcasm of a rhyming rebetiko lyricist – a master of the “Greek blues”:
It was a human hand, I swear,
that reached to catch me unaware;
like some small rodent in a swirl,
to stir his hunger as I curl.
Believe me though when I say,
I slipped, my friends, and got away.
By chance I did escape the pyre
that cast me into the line of fire.