This is the Bouzouki in the glory of its sweetness, I believe. This is true, the Greek Bouzouki has that ingrained ability to pass the message that however life can be cruel and difficult, there is still plenty of sweetness and beauty about it. We should just open ourselves to that level of life.
In this particular case, the sweetness has a Russian feel to it.
This is again one of those compositions which happen as if by magic. They appear from nowhere, they are a gift. It's as if the tune is 'out there'. One needs only to go 'in the garden' and collect it, like a plant. Everything is there, every single note: one only listens and serves as a medium - brings in this world what he heard in another.
Once I was just strumming the strings and suddenly realised that I am actually playing a tune, a melody. Nice, Greek melody with a Russian feel. And that's all there is, really. Creating music is as magical as watching children grow in front of your eyes.
(Greek and Russian music styles are quite distinct in the world today.
It's hard to explain the difference, but it has definitely to do with the spirit of music.
Roughly, Greek music could be described as sunny, with a strong, recognisable form.
Russian music, broadly speaking, tends to be melancholic, a bit looser.
So, what happens if you mix a bit of both?
Russian Sirtaki, of course!
And this is possible because of the background of the author:
Having mixed Greek and Slavic blood, both "parts" are fighting for their own right within.
Reconciliation is possible through music, where harmony can dominate.
That's in short, the story of Russian Sirtaki.)