The Memoirs of Dimo

Why, yes, I do like putting notes on things, how did you ever guess?  On a more serious note, this rated 13+ just to be safe. Even I don't know what's going to happen in it. Secondly, this is just the first part and it's just an intro type piece. A note from a false author, if you will.  Lastly, just to make sure everyone caught this, this begins in England, London specifically. I have never been to either place so their may be discrepancies. Thank-you, I hope you enjoy.

    Hello, my name is my own but you may call me Dimo. I hope you will not take my refusal to give my proper name as rudeness because it is not. In the place where I have spent the last twenty years of my life, the place I will focus on in these memoirs, a name is a very powerful thing. Knowing someone's real name gives you the power to control every aspect of their life so, as you would doubtlessly suspect, real names are not something we tell just anyone or leave written for anyone to see. So you may call me Dimo and if, for some illogical reason, you decide to take me as rude, well, that's no problem of mine.
    Unlike most books of memoirs I am not going to start at my birth or even my childhood. Rather, I will begin with the day my life truly began in my eyes. (At least the interesting part of it, at any rate.)
    The day I met Calliope.

I won't take anymore of your time with my ramblings.
Dimo