The story I'm going to tell, is not my story.
It is the story of someone, who is telling a story which is very similar to his own.
The dream I will remember, won't be mine.
It's the dream of someone who remembers a dream, that is very similar to his own.
I think of stories I like to make stories.
To tell them. I know this must sound like the dream of little Iasonas. What will he be when he grows up.
When I wake up, it'll happen again.
It'll start all over...
Monday, September 13, 2010
Ξερεις τι ειναι το σαρακι;
Κοιταω ολο το βραδυ τ' αναμμενα καρβουνα,
αναμεσα σε γνωστους,
σαν να το εκδικουμε,
να το βασανιζω.
Πλαθω μια γοπα στη πυρωμενη πετρα,
να 'ναι αιχμηρη
τα πραγματα που χρησιμοποιω καθημερινα
γινονται μεγαλα σαν κτηρια.