Sunday mornings

Sunday mornings with friends.

Duality

We define feelings and give them names and put them into categories. We have names for almost everything and that's good, because this is how we understand each other, but it can also be bad because there are still objects and feelings that haven't been discovered yet. Soon we will run out of words, so when we will discover new feelings they will be expressed only with short sounds like a TTTTTTTTT or a SSSSSSS. I mean when you feel it, you just start TTTTTTTTing at the person in a high note or low note, both meaning different things. And soon we will run out of sounds, so nothing new will be verbalised, we will have to stop talking because we concluded words are not enough. We will try to find an escape in art, everyone will get back to drawing and painting and taking photographs. Nothing will be good or bad anymore. When people will be violent to each other, the onlookers will start taking photos with flash so they will disturb them and eventually make them stop. Reinventing language.

Hard times

Everyone likes to sit alone on the bus. Nowadays it's so hard to find two seats next to each other, as if all the single people have rised against couples, protesting against love.

Morning visuals

Give me my words back

People like stories

LOve is

Hello beautiful world

Every morning after I wake up, I seat on the sofa, looking at the empty cups of tea. This is my morning ritual. It makes me realise how much tea I drank last night and nothing more. Then I look out the window and there's this tree. Just looking at it makes me feel better. It's a reminder that I need to slow down, to enjoy life. It's a meditation with eyes open and in complete silence. I bet everyone from my building is seeing it. For some, it's just an obstacle to see the railway. For others, it's just the biggest tree from the garden. For the rest of us, it's the meditation tree. Again, the secret is that we don't see trees how they are, we see trees how we are. I have to get up and be part of this world today. I have to put on my lipstick, my uniform, and experience the world. It's always exciting, because every day is different. Yesterday I saw an old man with the whitest long beard at the library. He was flipping the pages of a book with black and white photographs. I don't know if he was Santa Claus, God, a homeless, a scientist or just in my head, but I wanted to go to him and give him a hug. I never did that, but it doesn't matter. Thoughts define who we are, not deeds. Thoughts influence deeds. Our thoughts shape our reality. Whatever you think in your mind hoping no one else will find out, you need to know it's not going to just stay there. Your thoughts are a projection of your desire and they will become your reality by attracting what you are thinking to happen. You can't escape who you truly are. You need to change your thoughts if they are negative, just remember who you truly are within and don't be afraid.

altfel

Anumite stari se lipesc de tine ca gumele de mestecat de la unirii de talpa noilor tai pantofi. Sunt momente care se repeta la infinit, iar tu inca mai traiesti in ele. Zgarie nori, cascade, zambetul unui copil in 158, imagini care-ti tin mintea ocupata. Mai sunt nopti in care starile astea revin, ca niste alarme. Te trezesti si te pierzi de fiecare data mai intens ca ultima oara. Anumite parti se pierd doar ca sa revina cand esti pregatita sa le intelegi.  Altele se pierd la infinit, pentru ca nu trebuiau sa fie niciodata acolo.  Acelasi tu de infinit de ori altfel.

My recent poem "Postcards to you" read by a robot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hc0-xwacXgA

Contextual studies