just like honey/human beginning

the car door closes. the haze covers the street. the engine starts. the wheel turns. the car will drive you into sadness. just like any other time. though you do not feel it always.

xxx

enjoy the moment while it lasts, says one. run away run away, say the others. the pavement is wet. you watch those little birds in front of the greengrocers. you will die alone, without friends, one tells you. i hate english language. these gardens full of shapes and no spirit. i fall down. down down down. the water is green and smells like hospital. i see all my dead ancestors. i see my grandfather dancing with his cancer, the other one with his diabetes. the heart-attack that took away my father. but all the women are alive, they stand above the lake and throw wreaths into it. it is sunday. 1994. the world has never seen happier family. 

::: tranquille :::

barry lyndon/lointaine

terrific imagery. he who aspires high sometimes burns. barry did, however kubrick succeeded to the extent that seems impossible, inhuman. the brain and soul behind this piece of art deprives me of breath. 

xxx

the pain from an unfulfiled desire. the demon of dead future. the demon of justice. the blood that has left my veins. the sad sunrises. and everything i hear everything i see is true. but still, you are the sunshine. 

the greatest. 

::: if i never meet you in this life let me feel the lack. a glance from your eyes and my life be yours :::

matter

"It's just a matter of knowing when to say no or yes. 

Frustrating, frustrating, always waiting for the bigger axe to fall. 

A patient game that i can't find my way to play. 

Never mind what's been selling, 

It's what you're buying 

and receiving undefiled."

::: fugazi :::

exit

so tired these days, moving feast. when it all be over i will go to germany. it will be autumn. i will stand alone on the shore of baltic sea. everything is going to be gray, metal. the corpse of berlin will be far behind me. the silence. the rain. i will stare into the realm of the dead. this is where europe ends this way or another. and though i will return back to prague, my soul will stay there forever.

::: as you tell where the night is :::

what else is there

the distance grows the further you reach. distinctive intensities. schizophrenia is taking me home. sunshine at 2am. the rest of the night was dark, unquiet. the flat had too many walls in the morning. dusk at 2pm. you have seen the end but still you will fly insanely around the lamp just like any other possessed moth.

::: we cover distance but not together :::

now a legend

the picture of miles davis by anton corbijn. "breathe me" set on repeat (once again). the poetry of black tones. glassworks in castel del monte. the cold sidewalks. the invisible paisly of coming autumn. the litter on the steps from subway. the showers that make the cobbles so incredibly blue. saturday. sunday. monday. tuesday. wednesday. midnite. 

::: eye in an eye :::