Copies.

Millions of routes.

Up and down the street, inside the bus, in the cars, on foot.

Millions of possible routes to follow.

Destroyed people that move mechanically. Breathe mechanically.

Alienated souls wandering around carrying on their back what is called “life”.

Everyone without exceptions is destroyed. Some a bit more than others.

At the traffic light, a dying woman waits to cross the street. Her hands are wide open and raised as if to invoke a higher power. Her eyes are filled with anticipation of the inevitable.

At the next corner, a junkie is taking his daily dose. His eyes are closing slowly as he injects death. His gaze has the color of pleasure.

A car is passing next to me. There’s a couple inside. Blond hair blowing in an open car as the wind commands them. Playful hands outside of the windows trying to catch a handful of oxygen. Two pair of eyes full of vanity.

A pregnant woman walking on the pavement. Her belly almost reaches her neck. Inside her, one-more human is swimming. A ring on her swollen hand reflects the indication of eternal love and devotion.

I came across all your possible versions. In every street I walked. In every night I got wasted. In every exhale of smoke and in every cigarette. In every breath and every fear. Within blurry eyes and drunk conversations. Within all the awkward laughter of people and the formal “good night” handshakes. I came across you in crumbled sheets and in every orgasm.

All your possible versions have disappointed me and now I'm dead sure that your original was never conquered.

Unto the lonely road

I walked along the river today, on this green and full of trees street. The one that I always met you going to work when I was leaving, and half the times I turned my face so you wouldn't see me. Let's face it, you weren't my cup of tea and either was I.
Today I decided to walk home from work regardless my foot's wound that started bleeding halfway but also the rain that didn't stop falling from the grey sky all day.
As I was walking, I searched you in the face of every person who passed by me.
I was feeling the urge to see you passing. All I got was nothing.

They cut some trees, did you know?
You can calculate the age of them if you count the cycles of their trunk. I stopped and stared.

I thought that all their life were simply existed there. And one day someone decided to just chop them off in half.
Half.
I was never full so I cannot imagine how being half feels like.
I surely know how it feels to be empty.
I went out in the evening. I promised myself that I won't think of you and I won't waste myself.
I tend to break my promises a lot lately.

For(n)ever yours,
A.

The bees will be(e).

Caught your glance across the room.
You looked at me and I looked at you.
It was like looking at a mirror.
As if we are one person. One entity.
Fighting the oblivion of each other's life.
Filling the void of each other's mind.
In the short life that a glimpse of an eye lasts, love was born, bloomed and died.
And then we continued our paths separately and never saw each other again.

The bees will be(e).

Pumps

The river always ends up in the sea. Even if its flow can be misleading.
The heart is just a pumping muscle.
One life is just a blink of an eye that will be lost and forgotten in the eternal oblivion of the universe.
Are you still willing to play?
Do you want to see how deep is the rabbit whole?
Follow the river and it will lead you to the sea of love. Or the sea of despair, forgetfulness, remorse and broken pumps.
Are you (still) with me?


Yours always and never,

A.

One.

"And where one goes from here?", I asked you. You turned and looked at me in the eyes and softly whispered that "one always goes where one's heart belong", and you smiled. I hesitated a bit and then told you "but what if one's heart belongs to no one? Where do you go from there?". You looked to the crowd of people passing by. You pointed to the river and told me with your serious voice – the one you used to address me when you were about to say something that I should put deep in mind – "you always know where your heart belongs, even when you think your heart doesn't belong to anyone. Sometimes one can be lost, like the first time you came to this place. When you didn't know where this river leads. When you didn't know if it goes this way or the other...". You paused to take a breath and you continue "it was never about the river flow, wasn't it? It was always about where the sea is, right?". I nodded. "I know you can't live without the sea... But you figured out where the sea is. I trust you enough to find out where your heart belongs. Just follow the river", you said and you smiled with a bit of bitterness because you knew that I was long gone.

Sunday's ghosts

Sundays.

Dead days wondering around, carrying dead memories you wouldn't even want to remember. Ghosts buried deep into the limbo of your twisted mind. Dead distant relatives that you believed they lived in another era, in another planet or another solar system.

Sundays remind you of what you were, what you wanted to be and what you have become. And it's not really pleasant, is it?

Today you woke up and it was gloomy. More than usual. But you know well enough that you left behind the land of the sun and the sea. And it's this time of the year, as the norma command you, to make your calculations. You should go back and seek and find what you wanted to be, to do, to accomplish a year ago and where you are now. And it's not too soon and it's not too late for you to realise that where are you is not where you wanted to be but at the same time you will comfort yourself by saying that this is all you were able to do, this is where you were able to be and that's it.

And as the time pass, you will comfort yourself even more. You'll say that you like it here. You will adjust and compromise and endure all the challenges. Because this is what you always do. You start something and you finish it. There is no way back.

And one day like today, not quite soon, but soon enough, you will wake up and you will find your ghost waiting for you in your living room. Holding a hot cup of coffee and waving to you to come sit with it on the table. And it will remind you what you thought it was forgotten and gone. This will be the moment that you will see what you wouldn't want to see today. 

Your ghost will not be kind with you. Your ghost will remind you that it was always there. Never left, never disappeared, never forgot and never neglected you. It was you, choosing not to see it standing there.

Your ghost has a name. 

Can you say it out loud? Can you admit what it is?

That's the first step.

Good.

Refugees are welcome

World is at war since its very beginning. After humans started forming communities the world was at war that never ended and never will end. I will leave out of my text the reasons since I find it foolish to discuss the principles of stupidity which rule the globe for the last humans-known-to-walk-the-earth years. 

Middle East is a troubled place where thousands of people were and still are in need of finding a safe place to live in. Mobility for a resume might be a pro but that doesn't really apply to real life. Many Palestinians left their homeland after the Israelis invasion- yes this is how I'm gonna put it as an invasion- to flee to Syria to seek for a better place for their children. Syrians had a relatively stable country not by our European/western civilization democratic standards but that another thing I'm not gonna discuss; because in the end you cannot interfere and judge other people's culture, principles and ruling.

Lately, refugees flee from Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq to travel to Europe. And here is the thing: refugees do not want to leave their countries to go to the holy land of Europe just because. If ISIS wasn't screwing everything these people have I doubt that they would enter boats in the middle of the night with their children (born and unborn) to cross the Aegean Sea to reach a country that is falling apart with a vicious goal to steal the natives' jobs/money/etc. 

I personally never understood why anybody should end up drowned at the sea shore of any country before we take action. 

Human kind needs a little push I guess. And since we all know that thousands of people are drowned somewhere across the Mediterranean Sea- which is just one big cemetery of souls- but we do nothing, all we seek is the proof of what happened to feel agitated by the tragic story of "the desperate people who tried to cross the sea and drowned". 

Humanity reaches its shittiest state. 

We are acting like less humans and more beings. 

People are not just numbers. 

People are not illegal. Illegal is the word used for materials, substances and generally "things". 

Go tell your kid a bed time story now about how the 3year-old baby drowned along with his brother and mother in the sea and how his father suppose to live with it. 

It's only until we become the refugees to understand a refugee.

I am sorry for being human and less just being.

-A