Lungs full of words

Lungs full of words

Couldn’t breathe in any more

Skies full of water

Have swallowed the shore

The dark fills in your mind with haze

That makes you move on groping – out of space

Lungs punched with questions marks

That hurt to hold

Skies punched with stars

And if you squint you’d have a chance

To see the real world though holes

Night flows, and like a homeless dog

Wind howls and licks the silent windows

The words you try to say turn into smoke

No sound comes out but breathless echoes

The sea that gets a premonition

That this night war will end up soon

It shudders, Infinite contractions

Each single one is one wave long

And after so much backward running

Your fears trapped in mirrors or

Masks, smiles and postures on the go

After many dreamless hours

You reach finally the shore

 You silently follow gulls’ traces

Wet clothes and shoes full of sand

The wind finds its home in your hair

You exhale – no words left

Just a glowing sunrise without end.

Morning Rituals

Candlelight

Cinemagraph experience

Nobody is any longer surprised by an old gif image, so popular in banners, some profile pix. However, Jamie Beck & Kevin Burg managed to take the simple gif principle to a new – artistic- level, a result of their collaboration called ’cinemagraph’, which is practically, a static photograph with some moving elements in it.
I felt really enthusiastic about this great idea (not only me, obviously, I’m pretty sure you will find more examples in the web) and decided to try my hand at it.
So, that’s my first try, a summer cinemagraph.
Time stops when you look at the sea…

sketches & flashbacks

So, here it is, a memory. First so vivid, you can almost touch it.
City’s buzzing and hustle and bustle die away. Warm photo filter on.

Each time a lonely fast car races past the window deep in the night, I wonder what´s the driver’s story. If he’s going back from a party or hurries to someone, or just likes night and speed. I will never know. The memory of the car racing by fades away.
Even that vivid memory does. A full 3-d picture with its words, looks and smells gradually turns into a sketchy drawing. A sketch preserving just most essential lines and points are much easier to zip. The memory is stored away and then pushed back by the new fresh ones to ever farther corners of one’s (sub)conscious.
And then you pass that very building, those very windows and – flash! – here they are. Nice trick, show me some more... All right, she was wearing a black shirt. Or was is a blue top? It was around midnight I think. Or? Was it warm? Logically, not. Logically? What did he say? I don’t.... remember.

Sketchsketchsketchsketchsketchsketchsketchsketchsketchsk

We can never RELIVE memories. The mind tries to trick us each time someone takes up this risky enterprise. It fills in the sketch on it’s own, with its colours, emotions, and voices, slipping us its own ‘reproduction’. Some details, the ones we paid attention to in that very moment turn into a kind of mental hooks which the mind resorts to when unzipping a memory.
There are just a few, lived so vividly, whose memories have so many ‘hooks’ that they dig deeply inside and you say ‘it’s like it was just yesterday’.

…“Remember we were on our way back from Sagrada Familia? You said you always wanted to take a picture here”. “Hmm”, you nod smiling at the memory creeping in and unfolding.

Flashback.

about targets

Aim at the moon. Even if you miss, you'll end up among the stars.

Drowning in the sea of light. Barcelona

all the beauty of light pollution