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...
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Σε μια γη που ανατέλλει
Αν ταπεινώνουν το μέσα σου οι μπόρες ρούφηξε όλους τους τρόμους και κάνε τους ρίζες. Αν στο σκοτάδι τις σκέψεις σου θρέψεις φρόντισε να 'χεις μ' αλήθεια υφάνει τις λέξεις.