Love and War

This is to remember that love deceives us. It comes when we most need it, it takes strange shapes and forms, then it transforms into words, even when do not hear them we think we do, or we say them. Once a man I repsect told me that to love is to surpass, to exceed once self , especially in these times when everything is so flat. Love is to forgive, love is to see beyond yourself, love is to love even though you know that it is lies you hear. I know since I have loved. Love prevails in peace and war. This is a couple in Beiruit just a few days ago. This is to let us know that even if it is just chemistry, difficult situations either bind people together or seperate them. Pitty on those who cannot love.

Luminous

These days are strange days. I try to take my mind away from the things that I am involved in, see them from a distance, observe. Most times I don't like what I see, I don't like the words I hear, and I don't like the words I do not hear. And there are times when I feel numb. I d' rather live in the dark, or is it that I live in the dark? It is hard to realise that even in the darkness the moonlight does not let one rest. Even one shade means there is light. If only I understood light a little better. This is the sadest realization, to see in the dark and not in daylight.

Egoism

There was a time when contacting interviews was a true thing. There was glory in them,excitement, the art of writing it.My last interview was with Vincent Cassel in Paris, in a dark coffee room at hotel Costes. Writing the interview I found myself writing about my self and not the actor. I remember a writer once told me that this is the greatest fear for a writer, when the words sound like cries, when all that is down on paper is nothing more than a selfish game. That is when one has to take a long break.

Microscope

I am not sure if love gives birth to love or art gives birth to love. It doesn't even matter if art is not what everyones eye perceives.I had heard Aspassios Haronitakis love story a few times, but I think that this was the only time that I reconsidered the kind of sacrifice he made for love, giving up trully valuable aspects of his life to be with the woman he loves. Or was it to be with his art? Would there be art without his love? Maybe a different kind of love. Walking in Trakadero, manching my third brioche I kept thinking of the painting on the wall. I returned to Paris to realise my summer. To realise if it was all still there. It was a wonderful feeling to see that all I had felt this summer, the yearning, the million thoughts across to another continent were all true. No painting needed for this.

Shadow

Sometimes when we don't look, others do. They rise to the moment with courage and capture that moment. They raise a camera and take a photo. Then they remind us of it. I would like to remember 2005 as the year of the cat, the year that my cats left home, the year I left what I considered home. Changes come as they go. As sad as this is, what we take with us is not always what we chose to. Sometimes choices are made without us. But sometimes what others take with them for us is so strong that memories become a reality. Last but not least I would like to remember the past year with a few words from the Odyssey by Homer.
"There is space for many between a glass and the lips"

Πολλα χωρούν ανάμεσα ποτήρι κι άκρο χείλος.

This is the farewell I failed to write on the first of this year.

Adeus!

Fense

Behind the fense lies the truth. Or is it a lie? Is this boy a Serb or an Albanian? Is this Kosovo or is it Paris? Is the D&G jacket a fake one or a real one? Behind the fense lies what we don't know. Or is it what we know and pretend not to know? Behind the fense lies a simple fact. Let ones imagination run wild. Put some text on it and it becomes real. Put a fake text on it and believe it is real. Writing is a dangerous game. Perception is a dangerous game. The mind plays tricks on us. If only we knew..