so why should I

there’s a big spider on the other side of my window. it might be a sign from the universe that if i look at myself in the mirror i can see something else. i can see someone else; a change that hasn’t been there; maybe it wasn’t supposed to be there or maybe it was; it’s windy and the spider is hanging onto its web, just stays there; it doesn’t move right or left, i don’t know what it’s going to do next; i can’t move.

so i’m just going to be a cat. cats don’t give a fuck. so why should ? the body knows what to do, so why should ?

glimpses of being whole

where is your soul? it is (in) my whole body, like a circle in a poem
or a song
“where you heading, little lamb?” my grandpa used to sing

you’re in this circle; what’s it made of? what do you see?

I can’t see anything but emptiness and silence and it’s not me, it’s me at 12 years old
and I can’t see my face but you can

I’m alone with the circle right in the middle of it; it’s drawn on a wooden floor, maybe walnut
and it gravitates like a planet around the sun, this floor floats in space like I used to float in my dreams above the houses

my face is my soul my whole body and in this circle there’s just a tiny figure that I imagine being me


If my pain-body were a book, it would be a dictionary explaining
words like “heartbreak” “promise” “little princess” “love” because there are no dictionaries to explain them
there’s only silence and sounds in between

until you surrender: you are no longer your mind

and if it were that dictionary the gaps between the words would be coloured
by the unmanifested unwritten feelings of their “heartbreak” “promise” “little princess” “love”
you see
my pain-body is still here making itself comfortable he doesn’t mind the gaps he never did although I shout at him with silence
and splashes of yellow blue pink purple cover the pages
it is still here, unborn like a fetus
unborn forever
so I will have eventually to abort

what a relief, stillness within

I exist.

they end

Words grow on you like hair, that book told me once and it’s been hard to find a new book since. You get high expectations, you feed on their ways of producing chemical reactions in your body and your body gets used to it. And when it’s over, you have to readjust, you have to slap your own face and tell yourself a million times that you’re gonna be just fine without it and you’re just fine and then you don’t trust your own words but then yeah why wouldn’t you. When it stops, it kinda is for real, I mean you’re not getting any more messages or calls or rings or bells – that’s how they call it here – I mean how is that even possible? Books, like people, are terrible beings. They end. They leave you alone with fears and darkness and doubt to the extent that you can’t even decide if you’re going to get a coffee in costa but the wi-fi might not work or if you should just buy some ground coffee go home and make it yourself. But then you think – yeah but once I get home I’m going to be so sad, so much self-pity oh no – and then costa it is but really isn’t it better if I just man up and go home, I’ve got work to do. No, they’re terrible beings I’m telling you.

5 things that happen to you when living in London

Just like all those cheesy articles on the world wide web, I’ve decided to share some of the thoughts I have (so far) on living in this surreal city called London. I am totally conscious of not having the trained fingertips to write about the subjects I’m more interested in or in love with, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of sharing. This simple, common, random need: sharing. So it begins something like that…

1. You enjoy the discomfort zone
You know what they say about comfort zones. All that fuss about getting out of yours, although nobody tells you what really happens when you do. I’ve noticed that your entire body changes. Or maybe you become aware of your own body and you don’t really know whose is it. This doesn’t happen over night, but you’re no longer afraid of making mistakes and you’re no longer afraid of getting lost. In fact, you don’t even think it’s possible to get lost, even when you certainly are. You walk a lot. And you enjoy it, even if it rains or it’s too cold. A few months ago, back home, you would have taken a taxi.

2. You pay the most expensive rent in Europe and you don’t mind
Rent is expensive, food is expensive, public transport is expensive, going out is expensive. And yet, you don’t care. In the meantime, there are thousands of FREE events, museums, festivals, etc every single day. Which leads me to —>

3. You may feel frustrated : too much happiness / not knowing what to chose
In terms of cultural activities. You often find yourself running from a poetry class to a museum to a dance show and then you realize your fridge is empty but hey what the hell – does that even matter? of course not, you’re literally enjoying every moment. Yep, you would love to have some savings, to begin building up your future and to be more serious. But maybe it’s your last year in the 20s and .. whoa hold on a second, I’m a bit confused dot com

4. You thrive when someone says “you look like a londoner!”.
Because you are one. And you have this urge to “import” all your friends. You’re so excited that everyone you talk to may think you’re nuts. But that craving is slowly decreasing as you start to realize that –>

5. The past becomes a dangerous place
In fact, there is no past anymore. There is no place for your past in this city. Not that you wouldn’t want it to be. It doesn’t fit in. You try to skip back but you find blanks and there’s no time to re-imagine the blanks. One day has not enough hours for you to live in, so why would you spend those hours remembering whatsoever?