Once upon a time...
Once upon a time there was a girl that lived in the lands of the hidden sun…

Once upon a time there was a girl that lived in the lands of the hidden sun…

a face I met years later.

a face I met years later.

μαμά (mom)

You opened your eyes and there she was, smiling at you.
You cried a bit, she took you in her hands.
She talked to you as if you were someone she knew forever.
She gave you her word that she would always be there.
She is always happy when you smile, but she is angry whenever you cry.
She is proud of you even in your most embarrassing moments.
She gives you strength, mostly when you say that you are fine.
She advises you, when you think you know everything.
She lets you fall – only because she has to – , but the next moment she pulls you back up.
She sees rainbows in your rainy days, she points the sun when you only see clouds.
She is there to exaggerate her love for you, and that’s why you love calling her name..

mom…!

Νοσταλγία

Κάθισα, προχθές το βράδυ, μ’ ένα ποτήρι λευκό κρασί στο χέρι
αναπόλησα, προκάλεσα, κι εφερα εμπρός μου,
εικόνες αχνές απ’ το χρόνο, χαρακιές πάνω σε μαύρο πίνακα,
ξεχασμένο, χρόνια τώρα, σ’ενα δωμάτιο στα υπόγεια της ύπαρξής μου.

Τέρατα κι Ήρωες της νιότης μου ήρθαν κοντά μου
ιδανικά, πανέμορφα κομμάτια πια, μιας αγνής κι ανέμελης ζωής.
Τραγούδησα, μέθυσα, κι αφέθηκα στη γλύκα τους,
στην ομορφιά της θύμησής τους, της απαλλαγμένης από βροχές και χιόνια.

Κι ύστερα χόρεψα, χόρεψα, χόρεψα!
Σηκώθηκα στα δυο μου πόδια και ικέτευσα να μείνουν.
Τόσο όμορφα περνούσα, που η νύχτα ήταν φωτεινή,
κι η γωνια της ψυχής μου λουσμένη από ήλιο,
σαν τ’ αυγουστιάτικο μεσημέρι σ’ελληνικό νησί.

Κι οι φωνές μας ακούγονταν δυνατά,
σαν ουρλιαχτά ανθρώπων ευτυχισμένων,
που προσπαθούν να χαράξουν τα λόγια τους στη σιωπή του χρόνου
και τα καταφέρνουν, όπως κι εμείς, περίφημα
και περιμένουν, και νοσταλγουν, και θέλουν.

Sometimes I am scared of the people.

Sometimes I am scared of the people.

meeting Karel in the train.

meeting Karel in the train.

other cloth.

other cloth.

tablecloth

tablecloth

and there it was again
the blanket of my childhood.
its smell, a trip in time
in moments that will never fade.

and there she was again
making me lunch
the small piece of dark
chocolate on the table
and then words, and words again.
and then silence, and only dreams.

and there it was again

the blanket of my childhood.

its smell, a trip in time

in moments that will never fade.

and there she was again

making me lunch

the small piece of dark

chocolate on the table

and then words, and words again.

and then silence, and only dreams.

notes

notes

memories

memories

the art of cooking (mask)

the art of cooking (mask)

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portrait

portrait

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