Just like interlacing old threads, moving from one moment to the next,

the absurdity of our lives woven into the normality of a child’s dreams.

Not rushed but short-lived, the day goes by with the wind,

with the hours,

with the errands,

and playing roulette with emotions.


I stall and stare back at my reflection, imagining what the next airflow will bring.

Perhaps a few degrees higher, dust in my eyes, ripped leaves,

perhaps a melancholic breeze.

A cheery flash, a burst of enthusiasm, a displacement.




Spring has brought carmine tulips to the neighborhood corners,

as an attempt to color the day with something new.

But all I see are the bold black strokes that draw the sidewalks,

the rough asphalt carrying heavy air.

If only somebody could answer me:

is there anything more beautiful than splendid turmoil?


black strokes.jpg

Life is always,



always right.


1 Comment

  1. Thought provoking and well written
    The flower imagery is great and expresses the turmoil and symbol of nature amidst the urban decay
    Keep up the good work – you are a very gifted and expressive artist

    Liked by 1 person

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