Mother's Touch

He hugged his mother that night.

In her arms, he found comfort in the touch of sight.

Silence followed uneven breathing as a lump formed in his throat.

He eventually let his tears fall and pictured himself as a human boat.

‘What’s wrong? You can tell me anything’, she softly whispered in his ear.

Her child lifted his head from her shoulder, looked his mother in the eye and said ‘I feel tired and overly sincere’.

‘Of what?’, his mother replied, caressing his hair.

‘Of information’, he answered with a headache too strong to bear.

They stood in embrace until he could look into abyss and reminisce about the Reason.

His mother kissed his forehead, temporarily dismissing his insomnia season.

Back to bed, to the uncertainty of adolescent smear.

The data of routine was making him feel humanity in years. 

Online Users

Scars

‘’Can I see them?’’, I asked.

You looked away.

We sat in silence. Gradually, your eyes met mine and you hesitantly pulled up your sleeves in diligence.

You looked terrified, embarrassed and were suppressing your tears. As if I, of all people, would ever judge your fears.

I promised you I wouldn’t cry.

I promised myself to really try.

I saw your scars. There were some that looked fresh. I could tell by their color; Some were in different shades of brown. Others were dark red.

Your breathing turned heavy as I gently traced them with my fingers.

I wondered which scars were a result of which emotions; Which ones were your first ones and which emotions still eagerly linger.

I took your wrists and, without a thought, kissed them; They are the symbol of freedom and ability.

I moved along to your left breast and delicately pressed my lips against it; It is the layer that is over your heart - the symbol of life and humanity.

I found your lips and brushed them against mine; They are the symbol of a pathway to being acknowledged and heard.

I finally reached your forehead and planted a last kiss; It is the symbol of knowledge and wisdom - traits that make tyrants churn.

You surrendered to emotion and let your tears freely fall.

I took your hand in mine and began singing the lullaby of the brave; the ones who had nothing but found meaning in risking it all.
Online Users

Come. Come With Me

Come. Come with me. Let’s get lost in the ruins of modern day skyscrapers.

Let’s run until our lungs feel as if they’re on fire.

And laugh as each exhalation takes away our youth and curiosity about this earth and our potential.

Life has shown me that adrenaline rushes faster when it’s for a cause with no certainty; for a cause with selflessness that cannot be expressed with words.

Come. Come with me. Let’s get lost in a city with no name.

Let’s smoke in front of passing trains.

And count the people who take the time to enjoy the view from their windows.

Traveling has taught me that sunset and sunrise have no time; That the lost don’t require maps - they feel found in a crowd of strangers.

Come. Come with me, let’s get lost in a meadow with flowers unnoticed by man.

Let’s tell each other our deepest secrets and pause with tension.

And watch in silence as clouds slowly go by, reminding us that ‘forever’ is a concept used often by the divine.

Come. Come with me.

Online Users

A Year Later

‘September 19^th 2011’. I came across a post I wrote exactly a year ago. I was talking about starting my final year of high school. The pressure I felt was indescribable. Every day I would wake up and hastily try to get to my school duties. Try to be the best I could be academically.

There was time for love – even though it was looked down upon during that stage of my life. There was time for fun – even though it was looked down upon during that stage of my life. There was time for adventure – even though it was looked down upon during that stage of my life.

This time last year was chaotic. But the fact that I’m here, a year later, gives me the impression that nothing is impossible; That you have to give things a try if they’re what you really want; That not succeeding academically is not the worst thing that can happen; That there are worse case scenarios.

I was a student who did not do as well as I intended on my exams last year and I feel proud of myself.

Why do I feel proud of myself?

Because various situations changed me and it was in my hand to take experiences and let them affect me negatively or positively. I learned how to love unconditionally. I learned how to communicate better. I cultivated my knowledge on social/political/economical aspects on a global scale. I broadened my horizon with new music, literature and history. I found freedom in honesty and in admitting I could be very wrong when the opportunity rose.

Sure, there were times when I didn’t give it my best shot. But also, I can honestly say that as much as my teachers, peers and family sought to make it clear that the last year of high school was excruciatingly important, I couldn’t fully agree or maybe didn’t quite want to.

Yes, it was important - but to an extent. I wanted to have time to actually live.

Everyone was so caught up in getting the best marks or scoring higher grades than their classmates that often learning didn’t seem fun or creative.  It seemed like a competition.

The sad part was that, most of the students who were very successful throughout the year in their curriculum had no clue about the world around them. They could solve a difficult physics exercise but couldn’t hold a conversation about politics. They could memorize pages and pages of history but they couldn’t spark up conversation about important historic eras if you asked them about it.

It’s also ironic to see people agree that education is suffering from commercialization and they do nothing but go along with it.

It’s as if they’re protesting without a voice. Rioting in whispers.

So, for me, education isn’t just one year in high school. It’s the people you randomly bump into at bus stations; It’s that time you got lost in a new city and had no clue where you were; It’s visiting museums and seeing street musicians; It’s meeting strangers and realizing you have things in common; It’s learning which supermarket has better discounts. Education is, in fact, everyday life. 

Online Users

To Mπρελόκ Της Αγάπης

Αγάπη. Α-γά-πη. Μια έννοια η οποία είναι πολύπλευρη, πολύμορφη, πολύ- (συμπληρώστε το κενό αναλόγως της ψυχικής/ιδεολογικής σας διάθεσης).

Θα σας πω μια μικρή ιστοριούλα για την αγάπη η οποία συνέβη πριν από μερικές εβδομάδες.

Πήγαμε στη θάλασσα με την οικογένειά μου για να επισκευθούμε συγγενείς. Έχουν σπίτι κοντά στη θάλασσα. Μένουν στο δεύτερο όροφο μιας πολυκατοικίας και στη ταράτσα του κτιρίου στο οποίο έμεναν, είδα μια από τις πιο μαγευτικές θέες που’χω δει ποτέ μου.

Μείναμε αρκετές μέρες. Απολαύσαμε τον ήλιο, το αλατόνερο, τη βραδινή ζωή. Ας μην αναλύω περαιτέρω – περάσαμε υπέροχα.

Την τελευταία μέρα που μείναμε, αποφασίσαμε να πάμε για κολύμπι οικογενειακώς το μεσημέρι. Ο θείος μου είχε φέρει βατραχοπέδηλα, goggles και είχε τα κλειδιά του σπιτιού. Οι υπόλοιποι έφεραν καρεκλίτσες, ομρέλες, τσάντες με τα απαραίτητα αντικείμενα του καθενός – γυαλιά ήλίου, περιοδικά, νερό, αντηλιακό, πετσέτες, τυροπιτάκια/αυγόφετες που έμειναν από το πρωινό και πάει λέγοντας.

Εκεί που είχαμε τελειώσει οι περισσότεροι και συζητούσαμε να επιστρέψουμε στο σπίτι (το οποίο απέχει μερικά μόνο λεπτά από τη θάλασσα), ο θείος μου δεν μπορούσε να βρει τα κλειδιά. Ψάξαμε, ιδρώσαμε, κάναμε τη διαδρομή που έκανε ο ίδιος για να έρθει στο μέρος στο οποίο καθόμασταν αρκετές φορές, αναφέραμε εναλλακτικές. Δεν βρίσκαμε με τίποτα τα κλειδιά. <<Βρε, που πήγαν τα κλειδιά;>>, << Μήπως σου’πεσαν στην άμμο; >>, <<Μήπως έπεσαν σε κανένα βόθρο; >> οι προτάσεις έπεφταν σύννεφο. Ακόμη, σχεδίαζε ο θείος μου με τον ξάδερφό του να σπάσουν την κλειδαριά με κατσαβίδι.

Αποφασίσαμε, για να μην τα πολυλογώ και σας κρατώ σε αγωνία, να ψάξουμε στη θάλασσα. Παίρνει goggles η αδερφή μου, κάνει μια βουτιά μέτρα μακριά από την ακτή. Κεφάλι δεν έβγαλε έξω. Έπειτα ακολούθησε ο μπαμπάς μου με goggles και ένα ‘’πραγματάκι’’, που δεν ξέρω τη λέξη αλλά μ’αυτό μπορείς να αναπνέεις ενώ βρίσκεσαι στο νερό. Τέλος πάντων, ακολούθησε κι ο μπαμπάς μου με τα goggles και το ανώνυμο (αλλά σαφώς χρήσιμο σε τέτοιες καταστάσεις) ‘’πραγματάκι’’. Έπαιρνε βαθιές ανάσεις και πλάφ, μέσα πήγαινε και το δικό του κεφάλι.

Μου είπε η μαμά μου να πάω κι εγώ να τους βοηθήσω. Φόρεσα κι εγώ goggles κι έκανα μερικά βήματα στη θάλασσα ώσπου ξαφνικά, το είδα.

Είδα ένα μαύρο μπρελόκ με μικρές ροζ βουλίτσες οι οποίες σχημάτιζαν τη λέξη ‘LOVE’ να κουνιέται πέρα δώθε από τα κύματα, στον πάτο της θάλασσας.  Ήταν το μπρελόκ από κλειδιά του σπιτιού.

<<Το βρήκα!>> φώναξα και στη συνέχεια, άκουσα διάφορα. Η μαμά μου <<Δόξα το Θεό!>>, ο θείος μου <<Μαριλέγκο, το απόγευμα σου κερνάω ένα παγωτό>>, οι ξαδέρφες κι οι αδερφές μου  χαμογελούσαν με ανακούφιση – τελικά θα έκαναν ντουζ εκείνο το απόγευμα!

Ένιωθα χαρούμενη, όσο ασήμαντο και ν’ακούγεται το συμβάν. Αλλά ταυτόχρονα, ένιωσα ‘’περίεργα’’ με την καλή την έννοια. Όσο περνούσαν οι μέρες, σκεφτόμουν όλο και περισσότερο τον συμβολισμό αυτού του γεγονότος.

Που θέλω να πάω μ’αυτήν την εξαιρετικά ενδιαφέρουσα και συνάμα τόσο ηρωϊκή ιστορία; Θέλω να εκφράσω μια άποψη που έχω πάνω στην αγάπη.

Μερικές φορές η αγάπη βρίσκεται ακριβώς μπροστά μας και απλώς εμείς πρέπει να κάνουμε το επόμενο βήμα για να την ‘’αρπάξουμε’’.  Πρέπει να ‘’βραχούν’’ λιγάκι τα ‘’πόδια’’ μας.

Σε άλλες περιπτώσεις, βυθίζεται μανιωδώς ολόκληρο το σώμα για να βρει την αγάπη. Βυθίζεται και προσπαθεί να βρει την αγάπη με τη βοήθεια αντικειμένων. Όχι με τα μάτια, την αφή.. την ακοή. Δεν αφήνει το κύμα να το παρασύρει. Αντιστέκεται στη ροή.

Αυτό που είναι αξιοσημείωτο είναι το ότι μπορεί να ‘’βραχούν’’ λιγάκι τα ‘’πόδια’’ μας ή να ‘’βυθιστεί’’ το σώμα μας στη προσπάθειά μας να βρούμε την αγάπη και υπάρχει περίπτωση να μην τη βρούμε εκείνη τη χρονική στιγμή και σ’εκείνο το τοπίο συγκεκριμένα.

Αυτό δεν σημαίνει πως δεν υπάρχει. Δεν σημαίνει πως δεν υπήρχε. Oύτε πως δεν θα υπάρξει.

Απλώς το κύμα μπορεί να τη μετέφερε σε άλλη ακτή για να τη βρεί κάποιος ο οποίος... ‘’έχασε τα κλειδιά του’’.

Online Users

An extract from William Saroyan's 'The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze'

'Then swiftly, neatly, with the grace of the young man on the trapeze, he was gone from his body.
For an eternal moment he was still all things at once: the bird, the fish, the rodent, the reptile, and man.
An ocean of print undulated endlessly and darkly before him. The city burned.
The herded crowd rioted. The earth circled away, and knowing that he did so,
he turned his lost face to the empty sky and became dreamless, unalive, perfect...'

Online Users

There Is More Than Meets The Eye

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

No lines, no wrinkles, no dots.

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

They looked at me as if I was seeing spots.

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

I told them that in it was something that could be achieved with a glance.

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

They didn’t bother to even look at it or give it a chance.

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

They crumpled it up and didn’t even blink.

I once gave somebody a white piece of paper.

In the top right corner, was a little heart painted in scarlet red ink.

Online Users