far away

I need sun.

I’m a Leo. I’m a creature of light and warmth. I’m full of energy, I’m full of passion.

I think we are determined by the time we were born.  Stars’ constellations make us being us. We are Cosmos. We are reflection of the  universe. A man can imagine things, but he always relies on things he already knows. A man can name things, but always using words which already exist. If we saw something unknown, we could only describe it by comparing it to something known.

It’s sad.

We’ve got potential. We can do everything. Impossible is nothing, it only takes more time. We are humans, we are living, we are feeling, we are thinking. Isn’t it enough to know we are powerful?

I am strong and I need sun. I like ambers and I am proud. I am a woman of love and faith. I am an idea.

Sometimes I feel like being far away from my body. I leave it because it’s too heavy to take it with me. Sometimes I hear buzzing in my ears and I see fog. Everybody and everything moves in slow motion.

I hear sounds but I don’t care.

I see faces and I forget them.

I am far away.

ageless, timeless

A few days ago, when I was in the garden and I was looking through the looking-glass, I found something interesting in the bush. 

It was a clock, and old-fashioned one, on a long, gold chain. It was broken. It didn’t show the right time because it was slow. 

At first, I decided to keep it. I liked its shape and colour. But then I became sad;
what if for someone it was very important, and its owner couldn’t find it? 

I woke up and I took a walk in search of the White Rabbit. I found him behind the seventh tree.
He promised me to ask the Caterpillar about the lost, and he ran away in leaps and bounds,
as always late. I took a few more steps and I saw a tail levitating in the air. I pulled it, but the Cheshire Cat didn’t know anything either, and after a while he disappeared. 

I was tired. I sat down by a rose bush and I saw its petals withering, dying and falling down. 
And I realized that the clock is slow only for us, that we have an illusory impression that we still have enough time, but we don’t. 

So Alice, please, leave your Mirror and start living immediately. 
Don’t be your own reflection. 
Make yourself real. 

A few days ago died a friend of mine. Tomorrow takes place his funeral.
I won't go. It makes me extremely sad.

Because, dear reader, I have my own world. I live in a soap bubble.
I can't be hurt. And you know what? All my life I've been avoiding sorrow.

And it works.

cosmic energy

Although I usually write at night, when the world is dark and there's no light except the moonlight, 

I feel a need to write now, in the middle of the day.

Does Cosmos care about us?

Is our destiny somewhere there, above us, between stars?

I know there is.

I know that everything we do is possible thanks to that cosmic energy which fills each of us. I know that this black expanse in which hang stars, planets, meteors and everything else is present in our bodies and our minds.

I think every man is a reflection of Cosmos. And every man perceives it in different way.

For ancient Greeks it was a symbol of order. And I think they were quite happy and equable.

When I look up, I feel Chaos.

Maybe I'm not ready to accept that challenge. Maybe I don't know my power yet. Maybe I know that it could take me in possession, to seize me. And I'm not ready.

I'm sure I'll be great one day. I know I am strong. But I have to be prepared when it comes a day of my trial.

For now, my power is lurking inside me. I hear its rumbles, I see it opening its eyes slowly. And I feel that the moment of awakening is coming.

But I have to be ready for that.   

madness

Sometimes I feel like a stranger.

I come back home and I do the cleaning. I put everything in a perfect order, books according their size, clothes according their colours. I need it. That order is a poor substitute of peace. I care of it, because there’s chaos in my mind. I’m immersed in a mess.

I sank into lethargy. I can’t go on. Even when I have a decision to make, I prefer to toss a coin. It works. Sometimes, during that short moment when the coin is in the air, I realize what is that I’m counting on. But sometimes I don’t. I let it fall down. And I don’t care.

What are  you doing? No, what are YOU doing? I like talking to myself. There comes a time when I have a chance to do the right thing. I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by. And even if I could, it would all be grey, and I don’t need your picture on my wall. Because yes, it’s so bad.

I knew many people, but you always knew them better. You even know better who I am. And then I stopped talking to them. Stopped seeing them. Because I believed you, because I trusted you.

They betrayed, I’m your really true friend now, they betrayed, and I’m forever there.

You’re my truth telling lies. You’re inside.

Open your eyes. I’m you. Sad but true.

When I look into your eyes, I see a stranger. Not inside you. I see my eyes reflecting in your eyes, and I see that foreigness. Yesterday I told you to look deeply into it. After a few minutes you told me that you couldn’t stand it, that it was like you were looking into the eyes of an extraterrestrial, of an animal, of a madman, of a nutcase. 

And I am all that, I suppose.

don't blink

I love tattoo art. I love to write down on my skin things that means a lot to me. Till now, there are five symbols on my body. And I want to get another one. This time it will say ‘don’t blink’.

I’ve already told it to many people, and the reaction of majority has been the same: frown forehead, mockery in the eyes and even some kind of feeling sorry for a silly girl who wants to disfigure her body. The rest has pretended to understand. But I bet they haven’t.

So?

Don’t blink. Because you are a child, and you spend a couple of years playing with other children. Then you go to school and you don’t understand anything, you just learn and clean your room because your parents want you to do it. Don’t blink. Because you go to a high school and you think yourself high and mighty. Because then you meet somebody. Don’t blink; you’re a student and your beloved from school becomes your wife. Don’t blink, because your children grow up and move away to start a new life. You are fifty now and you lie in bed with your love, praying to God to die before she dies. So don’t blink, because the time won’t stop.

It’s necessary to live immediately. It’s later than it seems to be.

I still look upon the sky and I still feel the chaos inside. Soon there won’t be place for me here. I’m nothing. I’m everything. I want to be everywhere. I want to reach the stars standing on tip-toe.

I remember when I was fascinated by the psychedelia. I was sitting in my room full of hookah’s smoke where the only light was the light of a candle. On the wall there was a giant poster of Jim Morrison. I saw him appearing and disappearing until he just went away. Now I’ve got the same feeling.

I’m in the eye of a storm. In a whirl of colours. 

presence, absence

Once upon a time there was a man who didn’t believe in angels. One day, while he was working in a forest, an angel came to him. They took a walk, and then the man looked at his companion and said: ‘Yes, now I have to admit that angels exist. But you’re not real, like us.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asked the angel. The man responded: ‘When we got to that huge stone, I had to bypass it, and you just walked through it. Then, when we saw an old trunk on the road I had to jump it over and you hadn’t.’ The angel seemed to be really surprised by that response. He said: ‘And did you noticed what happened on the fens? Then we were both able to walk through the fog. It’s because we both have consistency which is far stronger than the fog.’

Today I’m the fog.

Sometimes I’m weak. But just for a while. Then I become strong. Once my friend told me: ‘You know, I have always admired you. That one day you’re so weak, so seek and tired of everything, but the next day you wake up so strong, just like nothing has ever happened to you.’ That was my response: ‘You need more strength to be weak for two days.’

Sometimes I hear the scream of a butterfly. I see shadows, I’m among them. I feel the abyss gazing into me. I look in the mirror and I see a ghost. I feel like a stranger. My body is not mine, in the eyes I see emptiness, the words that are flowing don’t sound familiar.

A couple of years ago I went to Biennale. I saw things that changed me, and one project in particular caught my attention. It was a room of fog. Though its exaggerated effect was a result of a of the broken-down fog machine and certainly wasn’t the author’s intention, it hit me like a thunderbolt.

Suddenly I felt nothing. I couldn’t see anything. My body stopped existing. It was like I was dead. I was swimming in milk, in that white smoke. I was floating. But after a few minutes the pressure of that nothingness became maddening. I couldn’t draw breath. And then I realized I didn’t know where the exit was. I heard muted voices of other people, but I couldn’t find the way out.

I have never tried to leave my body since.  

self-confidence. self-consciousness

Hello everyone.

Welcome on the other side. Welcome in my world, where reality is a prison. Follow me and I’ll try to show you what can be found behind a mirror. You’ll know a different meaning of words, you’ll see a different colours of paintings, you’ll hear a different sound of a melody. Open the doors of perception. Feel. Look for. Find your own way. 

Because it’s people’s vice to look without seeing and listen without hearing. There’s an inspiration in every second we live. Just feel the motion. Don’t be afraid to hear the voice which is calling you. It’s your life and nobody else can live it for you. We were born to be who we are today. These are our choices and our decisions that have made us us. Jim Morrison said: ‘The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are’. I don’t think it’s only their fault. The main murderer is the world we live in and the media. They’re telling us what to do, what to like, how to look, how to act. Do you really want to be a part of it? Don’t feel upset if you don’t know the direction. As Carl Sandburg said: ‘I am an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way’. The most important thing is to feel comfortable in your skin. 'I want the respect of intelligent men but I will choose for myself the intelligent. I love art but I decide for myself what is art. I adore beauty but only my own soul shall tell me what is beauty. I worship God but I define and describe God for myself.' (C. Sandburg). We are different. We see things in different ways. We perceive different feelings. Read the directions of your heart and 'directly you will be directed in the right direction.' (L. Carroll).

Be yourself, whatever it means to you. Be real. Be true. Don't hide behind all those things that just don't matter. Be yourself. Everyone else it already taken.