My zest and love for the kombolói have urged me to travel all around the world seeking old rosaries that for the first time reach Greek shores. Upon discovering every single one of them, a smile of joy and content spreads over my face. I then repair them, maintain them and finally transform them to what we call the Greek kombolói, just like the first Greeks used to do many years ago. At this point, I feel that my task is completed, since I have to give these kombolóis the freedom they deserve by allowing them to continue to travel and live as free entities, to know and interact with people. This can only be achieved by entrusting them to the hands of a human being that will give them the energy to continue to live, speak, sing, spread their interesting fragrance, and to seduce anyone who touches them with their softness.
We have travelled a long way along the path of the kombolói, historically speaking. This path does not stop here, does not stop in the present. The history of the kombolói shall continue… This time, we shall not be mere travellers along its route, but creators thereof. The history of the kombolói now belongs to all those people that have loved and cherished it and have wholeheartedly devoted their time and energy to promote its glorious course. It is our responsibility to hand it down not only to our children and grandchildren, but also to the entire world beyond the boundaries of Greece. Because all of us have the right to a very good friend, as has been the kombolói to Greeks throughout the course of time. Because the kombolói has always been there for us in the greatest joys and sorrows, has listened patiently to our thoughts and has responded back. Intense and passionate was its "voice" in our happiness, gentle and inconspicuous in our miseries. After all, the kombolói is not just a close friend, but the voice of our very own soul.