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...
Thursday, July 26, 2012
A sign in the ocean
Nobody knew for sure if it was true,
since nobody who went there came back,
except for one person,
who went there and chose to leave.
Καποιος γυρω μου ποτιζει διαρκως με λαδι τη φωτια
και δε μπορω να βγω στην επιφανεια