Hoy el mar esta tranquilo

My sea is full of storms and hurricanes. Nights within the never quiet whirpools. Yet I seem not to notice.

It's most difficult to let go!... Most difficult is not to know, not to see, not to hear... It is the most difficult to see and be not able to help. He was twisting in his own thoughts, his own webs. And then he ran away. As if he was a hurting animal. I didn't have enough time to tell him. I didnt have enough guts to be brave!..

That never finished dance... The knots are untied yet they keep on holding. We run out of time together. Only towards different directions. So far I only need to pick up all the splinters, all the fragments. Fragments of a broken theater. Dead words are on the floor. My bora bora dream and our bermuda. We set the sails and eyes down.

For now that's it. I leave my visa in your passport. The knots are known know. Known is the way for forgiveness. There should be enough of sea shells, should be enough of coins.

head in the clouds

Well, my love, I'm trying to make sense of things...
of how I was, and how I am now.

I have always believed our first duty is to ourselves... to live life to the full.

But I have also been haunted by another conviction... that everything is preordained, lying in wait... and time is running out.

I seem to have charged through my life in a kind of panic. And looking back...
I feel I have achieved little of worth beyond our friendship: yours and mine, and Mia's.

Then one day I woke... and found I had lost the two people I cared for most. Only then did I begin to realize that we cannot live alone, aloof from the world... and that to believe we cannot fight
against fate is an act of surrender.

You were right when you said that once I cared for your opinion of me... but wrong in thinking I ever stopped caring.


I love you.

Some time ago.. don't even remember when exactly, I had to learn how to say goodbye. How to say farewell. Farwell to places, faces, emotions and very commonly - people. I guess you can't learn those things to the fullest. To that little red line mark... Sometime ago, don't even remember when, I had to learn of not letting go the trust in miracles. I still have to pinch myself to return that feeling. Those kind of feelings never are big. They simply land in your little pocket very close to the knowing that everything is going to be OK. Mornings are so fresh. White wind lifting even whiter curtains. And the city. It only becomes like that during the summer heat. Full of feeling, full of hope. Summer is the time for lovers. For kisses just before the train departs, newspapers full of nothing and coffee. All those little little things that promise better things to be coming...

unzip my body

The zipper of my soul. Big steps. Big blinking eyes. To my soul. And out. The winds of spring tears away the feeling. And all the steps become equal. Transparent time of moon. Liquid night wishes. I becomes yours all over again. And once again.
Unzip my body

Unzip my body

Take my heart out Everything is worthwhile while you believe. Everything is real while you can('t) touch it. Take my heart out

If you can be good, you’ll live forever
If you’re bad, you’ll die when you die

Who has deserved something more. Or only something. Who dreams of all the silences of the world in a blink of eternity. My bridesmaids are walking slowly. They put down the coins. They put down the thoughts, the dreams, unforgiven sins. For the future. For being saved. For ability to forget. And maybe - forgive.. Unzip my body...

counting down the days

This is spring. For me, for you. For the smokey bars with jazz and sun just ouside the door.
I don't remember how his hands look like. I dodn't remember the details when I feel it. I don't and it scares me. It scares me to the deepest darkest places of my soul.

A little bit of soul-searching. A little bit of sun. A little bit of nothing else matters when the moment is here.
I am not going away. I am staying here. So many years I was believing that if I will stay, people will come to me. Little flaw in the plan - people who come into the life, they also leave... Half around the world to be exact.

Therefore I am left with the spring. With the sun. And that jazzy emotion. The blue feeling. The blues. And mornings where the sun is already up while you are still so sleepy and all you wish is to bring the moment back. Embrace it. Not get scared. Don't run down the stairs so quickly. Hug harder, speak up and don't hide from that sun.


A search. Going to the other side of the emotion. To the other side of that coincidence. And what ifs become so touchable. So real...
Don't dream, don't lean and, don't forget..




On the other side of the sun.
One of these days. One of these lifetimes...

3.1

I dream of still sleepy morning. Perfect morning. Yet adrenalin dogs are still following me. And that eternal sun in the eyes. I remember it would feel like that in some days of my childhood. Little steps towards the undiscovered hope.
Unknown people find me. Again. Out of the feeling. Out of the eternal silence.

And the feeling is as if the dream is coming true. As if it was the last temptation of Judas. That this is for real and that the skin discovered the perfect sound of touching.

Everything is as if it was perfect.
Because I don't even remember that much. Everything passes. Dissolves faster than the clouds on the surface of the still water.

But the feeling is still there. The knowing that everything is continues. And I feel. And we do. And the knowing knits the knot.

To be continued.
Because the emotion remembers the silence. And the sun on the same surface of the same water.

We repeat the mantra. Second person in the reality que. Spinning city in someone elses palms. I open my eyes and can feel the sunlight. We remain friends. Like watching Formula One race cars moving at 30 km an hour. I open my eyes and the world is still here. Faster if you would think of rain.
Picture perfect loneliness.
Picture perfect. All three of them. Only one by one. For now. For a while. Because nothing goes. Nothing goes by. Nothing.
Because numbers that goes after comma are always (not) perfectly pictures a big maybe next to the peaceful knowing. Your and mine. And for me.

my blueberry nights

That time without the end. Without goodbyes.
When you forget to say farewell or maybe you don't need to remember how to come back?

I believed. In you, in me. In all those words we never pronounced.
Everything remained to be hanging just a little bit lower than the ceiling. Ceiling of the room with a crocked mirror next to the door. Door that would lead to the hall where I would always feel a little bit uneasy. You always knew this therefore would try to step faster.

And now I only remember. Only think of it. Only think again and again and I say that I miss. Miss that lightness. The lightness of not being. While being together.
And you ask me, what? What do I think? What do I say? What would I say if it all was different?..
I know. Probably we both think of the same. Of what if. What if we would have been talking more. If we would have not been scared. What if we would have simply acknowledged each other.
Because now you only ask what do I think? What do I think of what -- longing. Silence. Strangeness?..

And only now. Only now we can be more honest, a little bit more daring to admit. Maybe only now. Maybe in a year. In nine weeks. When we will meet. Maybe then, when you will hug me for real...

dancer in the dark

The sound of my stilettos on the wet pavement. City smells like autumn. City gets quiet before the night. Total silence. Total stillness. When you breath in. When you become quiet.
I walk and I can feel my heart pounding. Faster and faster. Faster than I can count to ten. Faster than I can remember how it was for the first time. Then I only was waiting for the silence. And sun was playing on my face, my hair. I recognised him from the feeling. Recognised from how not recognisable he was. And stayed. We both remained the same - came across each other but never came to know each other.

He received me with a look of amazement.
So much time. So much of (not)waiting... So many goodbyes. Loud ones and even more silenced ones, which stop at the corner of the lip, at the corner of white sheets of paper.

He enumerated be and I became his equation. His theorem. Unsolvable secret.

We created each other out of fragments of words, pieces of looks, out of sunny summer air and never ending touches.

Morning always would come too soon. Most sensitive corners of the body of the soul... little areas of the skin and the silence. Dancers in the dark.

We were breathing and together we suffocated. We were dreaming that pregnant passion. That reckless passion and feeling that never were given birth to. Sometime, before were woke up. Because we understood each other. Almost.



Most beautiful goodbyes - not pronounced.
Most beautiful hellos - ones you have been waiting for.

I knew it then. And most probably you knew it too. We stopped breathing, exchanged the looks and suffocated.
I stopped being scared. You stopped looking.
So we remained.
Together. (Still) undiscovered.