Tuesday, 20 January 2009


…like a deck of cards, they give you another 365 days, and before you know, 20 of them have vanished already. There’s an incredible pace catching up on me, and words seem to be slower than my mind can carry their weight. There’s no time to predict the weather if tomorrow has passed before yesterday has ended. I sip from my vodka like a child drinks a lemonade.

There are clouds, there is earth and in between is us. The best way to climb a mountain is to go up in circles. Organize your life like a sequence of projects and it becomes bearable. The intangible becomes tangible; liquid becomes solid. Plans for the future grow like yeast in dough. Have patience: dreams are grapes ripening in the vineyard. Caress the twigs as gently as a lover would stroke a lover’s spine. Divine.

Open the brackets. Open the door. “I am busy” is in, “I am fine” is out. Close the door. Close the brackets. “How are you?”
Curtain down. New deal.

Where are the shallow waters? Where can the exhausted swimmer stand, pause from peddling? Only in the past or the future can he escape from the current. We seek shelter in our memories, we seek refuge in our dreams. And what is a breakwater more than a misleading villain? Water can not be broken. How to get rid of it, ever? Give me a break.

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