Time

Completely abandoned from my perception, alienated from what I might spend a whole life on, Spring comes with the same expression at the same pace.

Places exist outside Time. I am the one trapped between two dates, one I am fully aware of and I even celebrate, the other I will leave for those who will stay behind.

Stairs

Stairs for three. The first took everything from me. The second lives inside dreams that are not even shared And the third has no idea of my existance.

Moments from a Future Voyage

There are moments outside time, and those are forgotten each instant I close my eyes.

Waiting for me is the vast emptiness of Polish plains, the very heart of North European Plains. But now from my place in Lazdynai I watch the silence of a dying city. A place that spreads memories out from its brutal conception. Even the aligned flats express to me a lost tendency of living for the future.

I am perhaps living the lives of those before me, those who dreamed of the present I was given. Sheer up, soul.

Night

Running and having the last drop of the century. Arrived somewhere.

Past

Exists somewhere in my past a place that has taken possession of many of my memories. It holds me with a quiet but persistent force, as if it had a right to summon me. Again and again it calls, urging me to return, to gather my attention and thoughts and place them there entirely. I resist this invitation with difficulty, for I know - though perhaps not convincingly enough - that it is necessary for me to continue forward.

A Story

Awakening of the first light. The world is drifting along new shores, undecayed stone. Silence. Forests are rising and all battles ceased, no air to breathe and fire will soon fall upon us all.

Crime and Punishment

The painful tragedy of understanding the deep reality of oneself.

Hediondo

 

Ser hediondo é positivamente concordante com ser-se introvertido. Vou ao supermercado e ninguém olha para mim, ninguém fala comigo, não desperto o menor interesse em ninguém. Os empregados das caixas passam o pão pela balança, um saco com laranjas, o código de barras de um pacote de 200g de manteiga, e olham apenas para os números finais enquanto me perguntam “dinheiro ou cartão?”. Este é o momento em que por vezes levantam os olhos na minha direcção. Mas mesmo aqui estes momentos começam a rarear: conheço profundamente o procedimento, e, para os evitar, uns segundos antes da pergunta respondo já com a palavra “cartão”. Pago, saio, e mantenho-me isolado, sereno e escondido por detrás da minha monstruosidade.

"Play" by Moby. A review disguised as a map.

Honey - An urban clash, the start of the journey.

Find My Baby - Restless still, but looking for hope.

Porcelain - As fragile as epic. As melancholic as brilliant.

Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? - Either regret or loneliness. Or both combined.

South Side - ...and yet, apparently there is hope somewhere.

Rushing - Anticipation comes and sets a different mood for the following.

Bodyrock - Again a contrast happens, brings confusion and energy.

Natural Blues - Road to spirituality with a rhythm.

Machete - The last opportunity for tension, release of uneasiness.

7 - Introspection runs along a minimal approach. 

Run On - An afternoon by the river on a foreign country.

Down Slow - Here the Sun starts to set. An evening is slowly approaching.

If Things Were Perfect - Still awake, but the wind is already cold and hides the light.

Everloving - Warm sounds and the eyes start to shut for the night.

Inside - Is isolation a dream or a nightmare?

Guitar Flute & String - Meditation is a result. And the result is to meditate.

The Sky Is Broken - A slow surrender happens when you are already sleeping.

My Weakness - In the end there is only the inevitable vulnerability.

Still.

Somehow it happens. Deeper and darker, each year I go down and silent against the usual weather. No one seems the be here anymore. All is done, I guess.