Lacrimosa

Latin for 'weeping'

I've sent the frost and sun to wipe your yellow tears.
I've sent heavy steam disturbing your breath and bitting chill to make you understand how easy you can breathe during the other seasons.
I've sent you insanity to understand that life achievements are nothing if you don't know how to enjoy life failures.
I've sent you body illness to fill your psyche abyss.
You kept on crying and then I've sent you challenges that didn't leave you any time to shed a tear. I've been sending you gifts that you fought to accept. I've been sending you gifts that you thought were punishments.
I've sent you weeks of rain to flood your shallow soul. You kept on sobbing, surmising that at least you can hide your tears in the rain. Despite that you cried even more. People could not see you weeping. Rain washed your tears. You lost your daily attention.
I've sent you lonesomeness to understand that you are the best company for yourself.
I've sent you all this putting all my thoughts, prayers and heart into. Risking my kindness to be misinterpreted.

I don't want anything back except for you not to return into the misery you've escaped from. 

stop weeping. 

listen to me

Flip the page

The universe is made of stories, not atoms. —Muriel Rukeyser

As time is passing by and bringing cooler and more humid weather I start to think that addiction to books might serve me good this time. I live in a basement in the house on the peak of the hill. Sun rays conquer my cell between 9 and 12 in the morning, the time when I sleep. The rest of the day crawls in the shadow. Warm tea and bunch of unread books just gives me a time to relieve the stress, not that I have something to stress about, but just because I am very good at making up problems. And yes, bunch of unread books, just because I'm collecting books more passionately than reading them . However the thing is, it is a perfect time to read. And go for a beer in the evening. And read while riding a bus. And read while riding a bus back to the top of the hill. 

Just got out of Castaneda's peyote delusional hallucinations and long hours trying to "see" and feel the seeing as a shamanistic power. Not long after that Herman Hesse's "The Glass Bead Game"  dragged me into the marbles rolling in the musical environment of a growing genius Joseph Knecht. I'll stay here for a bit. And like somebody said "God made man because he loves stories", if it is too cold to go out and create a story by yourself, get a book. 

Good Books has a brilliant campaign and brilliant sense when to publish it as well. 

Mystified and soaked black Metamorphosis animation of a harrying need to have Kafka...

...and boiling blood hot Havana Heat for ladies who are still counting the shades of grey autumn skies...

When I'll finish reading Hesse, maybe you'd recommend something for me?

If not, meet you in bed. Here's the most comfortable place to read for now. 

Bridget Collins

Ups&Downs

Today mixed up with a handful of mud and handful of sand. 

On all those peaks and in all those valleys.

Surreal.

Hi.

You should just always remind yourself that they get just better with time. Just that.

Winnie Truong

The week is on its midway. Unfortunately, today Wednesday feels like Monday just because I wasn't counting time since Saturday. And the minute when the awareness of the time flow tickled my toes this morning the vision of the future appeared to be sleeping next to me as well. The month is on its midway. The autumn is already putting its coat on and planning to pay a visit no matter where you would be. So if we are counting time - here and now is the time to give a smart advice to style and grow your hair, to prepare a natural fur that would cure you from a bold chilly autumn wind. Or that I could crawl into your hair and sleep until the winter is gone. The moon is in the right position and the day seems to be perfect for a new hair style. For a new activity as well, for new findings too. Winnie Truong a pencil crayon artist, with an amazing ability to expose a vivid attention to details and structure, is my newest finding. The big sized drawings of human Sasquatches and XVI century lady hair styles improved with a bit of nastiness. It is all about counting time and trimming your hair ends. 

Be aware and take care.