Some people say they love you with their own way. It does not seem obvious, love itself is not obvious. Sometimes it may take decades to say a thank you, our minds play tricks. For the times you acted weird thank you. I get it now a little, at last. For the happy times you … Continue reading The oldman in Patras square.
I hit the streets wondering, my heart 100 kg black stone in my chest starving to hear the call... where is the call? did someone hear it? did someone saw it? I want to stop people in the street, maybe they know, right? Maybe they know where my call has been all this time. ''Sir, … Continue reading In Mokum at nights.
If you wanted to be something if you have ever dreamed to be something else except human. What would that be? What is the one thing? The one you know is weird and could not tell to anyone? Don't you dream to be something else? I am not one of those to judge. Babe, you … Continue reading One tree in Vondelpark.
Drinking Smoking observing life, I am lost in the senses for months watching the sea for hours, watching the sky for days burning in the sun lying in a rock nirvana. found myself dead lying in a rock died like a lizard lived like a try hard gone as a lazy rebel died in the … Continue reading Lost and not found.
the tavern philosopher You know… My life has been nothing like small victories into mediocrity It has been a forced laugh in the sad lives of my people Small victories in bombarded field My heart injured and blue Heavy as 100 tons in my chest The sadness of survival flying above our heads In a … Continue reading You know…
Chandler looking at city lights on a rainy day. (F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Season 4) Like a warm stream of air crossing from her smile to your heart, while making blind ourselves to the melancholy that is never going to last. Our world painted by the color of love and hurt. Watching the dream unfold in front of us, … Continue reading City lights.
Image Tumblr @ respiracion Εχθές το βράδυ, ανοιξιάτικο βράδυ, ήταν άλλη μια μέρα που περπάτησε προς το σπίτι του ζαλισμένος από το ποτό. Στην επιστροφή του δεν μπορούσε να μην κοιτάξει το φεγγάρι το οποίο του φώτιζε τον δρόμο στα σκοτεινά σοκάκια. Το ίδιο φεγγάρι με αυτό το οποίο κοίταζε μικρός απο το παραθυρό του … Continue reading Μικρέ μου.