Πέμπτη, 28 Φεβρουαρίου 2013




she had blue skin
so did he.
he kept it hid,
and so did she.
they searched for blue their whole life through,
then passed right by and never knew.
i only surround my self with people intellectually stimulating

Τρίτη, 26 Φεβρουαρίου 2013



“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
if a writer falls in love with you ,you can never die.

Δευτέρα, 25 Φεβρουαρίου 2013

some nights distance is a thing that bothers me,
far away,or near,
distance will always be distance.
there are some certain people,
that right now
i would like to have near
to hug,kiss or love them.
prague makes me do that.
happy kid on the road
never going home,
wandering in every street
never get's enough of the city's extacy
this feeling is heavenly divine
we are all ordinary,we are all boring,we are all spectacular,we are all shy,we are all bold,we are all heroes,we are all helpless,it just depends on the day.