i got a spam mail

i got a spam mail
from who seems to be an italian
without the subject
i only saw the firstline showing a link

of course no attempt to click
even wonder what the link is
but i found
deep in my mind
i wondered for half of a second
what if.

what if it is a some important mail from someone important
which might change my life

then for the next half a second
i wondered why do i even imagine that i know would never happen
where this tiny teeny hope comes from
what made me to dream of this thing
and why don't i believe this

i found an answer in the next few minutes
it's because i'm living where one is supposed to believe that some impossible things might happen and change his or her life
there are dust size of hope which will prove itself its fakeness
may be too soon
but still there are.

i don't know where is more cruel to be
with lying hopes
or with none

ribbon

flowers

some patterns

cityscape

abaucs

umbrella

mint + red

moi / ici / maintenant

there are some words
never sound so
old

me
my
(maybe 'I' too)

the moment of speaking or writing somehow hides inside these words
i feel not being capable of seperating the meaning and the time

moi / ici / maintenant

the ceiling

maybe it is the only place you rest
you breathe
you might drop some tears
without any sound

i lie on the floor
put all effort together to just be

listen to the sound from my stomache
the water running in the radiator
a machine spins
makes a spiral wind

sudden cold wakes me up

the ceiling
greets
me

i can be a monster

things that in my mind put me under some categories
what you might call a not major

for a second i wished to be someone who belongs to the majors
things in my mind turn to be some majors
but from the tail of the second
i wish myself to stay as non-major
wish there to be more minors

i can be a monster
i can be whatever
i will change myself endlessly
and i won't get tired of

snow dust

wind giggles
sweep another snowy day

once you told me
looking into a glass of tea
you see beauty

light comes through
makes a shadow somewhere

the glass on your hands
that's what it takes

i am back in the kitchen
sitting where we were
afternoon
warm

through the window

thought of small little things

thinking of the snowflakes
the world is made of those little shapes
which all are different individual.

probably
the planktons in the sea
have all different faces like a is not b

a person is born after a random mixing
of all sorts of different features

it is a wonderful fact that nothing is same as any other
but if there one thing in common is that they all change  in time

pickling in a jar of relief

this morning i tried to remember your voice.
it's already lost its sharpness in me.
like i never hear my own voice,
i know it
but never so clear.

today it had the air of there, filling my lung with salt.
sinking into a fridger
sit still on the shelf
then slowly getting moldy

them

looking at them
my lungs get heavier
or perhaps my ribs shrunk

they are strange disgusting but familiar

'i would never have chosen them if i could have'

bring black and amber
next each other

then i run run miles away from them
that is how i want to see them
in a distance
a dot
an abstact existance

you are but that's all.

how do you count time

some count minutes and seconds

for some, memory wouldn't

i feel my stomach

my father is putting on his false teeth

far but close

shrunken jumpers

the room i lived

for mara bueno's project Welcome Intruders

a bird

colours

have you ever enjoyed a colour
like you breathe
everything in front of you is this colour
you don't think whether you like it or not

all the senses open its mouth and inhale the scent
jasmine tea on the bottom of a glass
the night sky above the trees trimmed in the window frame
the cold air leaking in

only too much

de colores
es el arco iris que vemos lucir
y por eso los grandes amores
de muchos colores me gustan a mi
y por eso los grandes amores
de muchos colores me gustan a mi

alia

bulb the envelop

seoul-london

seoul


london


london


seoul

repeated

granny

colours

imaginary people

sitting here

close your eyes
close your mouth
do not move
do not breathe

and the temperature drops as the car passes by

it becomes nothing

shivering with cold wind
and there comes rain storm snow
in the snow
in the frozen air
you feel nothing
you forget the wind

beautiful object

.

measurement of a turbulant emotion

Intensity

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Frequency

1. not at all
2. several days
3. more than half the days
4. nearly everyday

goose