‘Ανδρος

Αλλά το τηλέφωνο μας εννά σταματήσει να χτυπά; Εγώ νομίζω οτι κάποιος εννά μας ψάχνει τζι’εμάς. Για να μοιραστεί τζιαι τζείνος την απελπισία τζιαι την απόλυτη πλήξη του να ζεις ακόμα,
πολλά μετά την τελευταία μέρα της ζωής σου.

Ruins

Time flows, wild and untamed like a river. It sweeps people off their feet, dragging them along its path, merciless and free, spreading them apart through cliffs and streams. Those who survive, stand the test of time. Those who survive, live to call the rest history.

Roses Blooming Upstream

Now guess I’m a country hating man, for hate is the last Christian supper I’ll ever understand, and how my people can spell kindness with their red right gun arm, oh there’s a bullet coming for the sun, watching my man bleed unarmed, watch my gay siblings sing ‘till dawn

On Gentrification

“Put down the map, white man;
let me show you what you’ve done.
Take out your camera,
but first let me ask,
what have you enjoyed the most? The defensive walls? They look harmonic on the map. Ignore the middle, that’s a scar, the last divided capital, just look at the Venetian shards.

Louise

‘The day had arrived. Once again, a day like all the others. History was having coffee as it prepared to repeat itself. This time I was to be patient.”

DWELLING, FINAL PART

we cannot understand ourselves as real
confused if we should come out, confused if we are the outcome, come out of what, the outcome of what, the outcome of coming out or coming out of the outcome of coming out

Sometimes

words anyway have the tendency of making everything real, they chain a moment by placing it at the mercy of specificity-highlighting all the what-ifs & the surely-is.

Outro

If you want to find the truth
You’ll have to lose some things first

DWELLING, PART II

Circling in golden crops on the outskirts like an extraterrestrial trying to compete with the foot long centipede flexing its segmented back through the undergrowth wondering where all its lush humid playground has gone off to