Apostolos Pratos writes out of an inner restlessness, a flame that flickered within him for years, asking for a voice. He seeks to create something different, lean narratives at the borderls of the fantastic and myth‑making. Stories that offer no map, but place a compass in the reader’s hands. Not to be led, but to collaborate, to become a co‑creator, shaping worlds and places as one dreams them. Short books that leave generous room for imagination, illustrations that do not explain but converse, small seams of light completing the experience.