SWORDS

Walking means pain Because my feet are full of scars Because my feet are full of scars - Or because the roads are full of nails? Because the roads are full of nails - Or because I walk barefoot?

It took one random urge to force me to go through my past on one random evening. As if my mind was telling me that what I was looking for lies there in the past, a moment that I didn’t realise I missed. Then I went through my old writings, even the ones I almost deleted, but for some reason kept in drafts where nobody has an access to except myself. And that was how it happened, how I encountered the old me, the younger me. I can feel the length and width of her mind, how much she tried to dive into the depth of almost everything she encountered along her journey into something so blurry she called the unknown . I can narrate precisely how deep her longing was to understand, and I could even feel her shaky legs - because the unknown is wild, and to turn it into the known meant leaving everything behind, to challenge her unsteady self, but to stay meant to rot. I felt sorry for her, that years after that, she still couldn’t fathom the meaning of her own daily life, but also glad, beca

Written on my birthday, as a reminder/gift to myself:  A desperate man was alone in the middle of a forest, surrounded by abysses, wild animals, and trees higher than five stories buildings. He couldn't ignore the fear that slowly creeped in as he realised; he was lost. After some thousands steps he couldn't tell where exactly he was anymore. So he cried for help. When nobody answered, he cried even louder - that was when he heard someone cry back for help. He ran looking for the voice, until, after a while, he realised it was his own echo.  Before realising that it was his own echo, who was shouting back at him, this desperate man was, for a little while, cheered, knowing that somebody else was there, no matter if that somebody was there to help him or that somebody was simply there. Loud to the universe, my birthday resolution is to start to reverb only beautiful echoes within the walls of my body, or simply be there. For me. 

To want something and to want something back sit on two distinct poles but they’re breeding two somewhat similar outcomes. It is safe to say that things often become not quite special after we got the chance to hold on to it. That beautiful expensive armchair in IKEA, after some weeks, becomes merely a spot to stockpile my jackets and pants, no matter how I, at first, planned it to be a hygge spot to read my books in, before I decide to read on my bed before sleep - just like thousands days before the fancy armchair. But to want something back includes the experience one has had, it also includes promises to change and make it different this time, because if not, I would just let it go, my armchair would end up in some flea market, looking for a new owner, I would have realised at that time that I would no longer need the armchair, no matter how expensive and fancy it was to me. No matter how I once worked my ass off to be able to afford the armchair. Once it doesn’t mean anything any

Nina Simone, was it And what about God? Nobody can’t take away? or was it  And what about God? Nobody can’t take away. or was it a journey, a question mark turned into a period? One second rest before the refrain, a moment to give that one sentence a chance to linger for one more while in the listeners’ heads. Or, I prefer, a moment of surrender. Until... Dang! I got my hair, I got my head I got my brains, I got my ears I got my eyes, I got my nose I got my mouth, I got my smile I got my tongue, I got my chin I got my neck, I got my boobies I got my heart, I got my soul I got my back, I got my sex I got my arms, I got my hands I got my fingers, I got my legs I got my feet, I got my toes I got my liver, got my blood I got life, I got my life I got my freedom, I got life! Everything begins with nothing, between these two poles is a verb: surrender. And this whole seeing, is beauty. 

I am in the museum of the earth and this all had happened before So long before that I start to forget how it does look like And how it does feel to be in its curves and cuts in its highs and lows The museum ticket costs me a lot, for the experience iss promised to be real And it does feel real So real it feels weird Celebrations and emotions and I even make friends We talk about how weird the tour guide looks when he talks Should we have taken the unguided tour and experience the museum ourselves? Some of my friends have gone after they thought it's enough for the day while I am still in the museum of the earth for old time sake Reminiscing the way the air feels as I try on different feelings It was delightful but some day it has to come to an end What's left is the stories, packed in a giant museum Then we turned into historians of our lives

The only thing stays constant is change, we all have heard of that (if you haven't, now you have). It's as clear as if you're pointing at a tree and telling someone, "it's a tree". But yet seeing that my life is about to change still creeps the hell out of my shivering bones. I know for a fact that many things would change sooner or later, but often my heart gets attached too quickly to certain moments that leaving them would cost me tears or/and uneasy feelings, which sometimes last longer than my mind allowed. Somewhere along my life journey, a month after my 25th birthday, I decided to have my own adress and move into a new place (which I, by the way, feeling very much comfortable in). Everybody who has at least once moved to a new place in their lives knows this last breath they take while looking around the old place, as if the moments ever happened in that place were playing on rewind in their heads. That's the corner where I once spilled the coffee,

The sakura tree in front of my house starts bloom this time of the year, which is kind of my primary sign to estimate what time of the year I am in this land of four seasons I wasn’t grown up in, in which I sometimes still feel strange.  Nothing much has changed in the outside world since the last spring due to COVID-19, but I am sure there has been a lot going on in the department of emotions and your thinking mind, hasn't it? 

There is nothing much preferably done in winter than waking up between 11 to 12 AM to a warm cup of coffee without thinking it as one of the greatest guilty pleasures in life.  To be sorry is a very humble thing, but I wonder if it's at all necessary. To never feel sorry or to never having to say sorry might very well be a good challenge to take on as a new year resolution, which comes soon enough to be pressure. It might not be as hard if you just hear it once, but to never have to say "sorry" requires you to be always right and to be always right means not more than to never do wrong and there are two ways to never do wrong in life: 1. To behave just exactly the way society expects you to behave 2. To never regret every little detail that you decide to do The latest one has somehow made its way to be "in" nowadays, mostly in the West. I personally think that this is a beautiful way to live the life. Nevertheless, a tricky one because we tend to forget the reas

It's safe to say that 2020 is one of the most depressing years all time, at least that's the impression I get from social medias and some conversations with people around me - and this isn't only because of COVID-19 which definitely limit our free wills. Happiness or gratitude suddenly become the things that we need to look for, because it doesn't happen just-like-that anymore. So, instead of waiting for good things to happen, we are forced to create or look for them. "What makes you happy?" ...was the question I hope I could answer with a list of activities. After realizing that it I could not begin with anything, the question reformulates itself into... "What used to make you happy?" Maybe that's the question I should start with.  Of course I (or we all) am not always this gloomy. We were all once those kids whose good moods could be triggered simply by cotton candies or playgrounds. The cotton candies now have turned into carb diets and the pl