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...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Obstructions
I am smoking a cigarette.
I am thinking about you.
I am thinking about your knee.
The feeling of holding you
behind the knee.
Also today
I experienced something,
that I hope to understand
in a few days.
Around my left hand a circle of
blurred white flames was shining.
In the centre of my heart
there was a tiny white point.
I don't know what it means.