What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can't remember their names but I know they are the ones that dim the lights in the room every time I undo the buttons of my soul and open my shirt to reveal my chest to my authenticity.
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
The story of three couples who are about to discover that a marriage's happiness has many entrances but only one emergency exit. Living a life immersed in the questions of relationships that never cared to learn in what order to write their pages, they ended up embracing the part of the other's logic they understood best and the part of their own silence they understood least. The air between them is ready to take into its arms those endless hours of their lives they covered in silence all that they never found the courage to cover in words. It really wants to turn it into the song of six hearts that hand-in-hand will lay siege to the part of their truth they seek from their common future. You see, when a person is no longer able to own the truth today offers him, he convinces himself that it's time to fell in love with the myth tomorrow will eagerly supply him with.
In a duel with his self-confidence Paul is about to find out that he cannot quarrel with his future without quarreling with his favorite version of his own past as well, the one his self-confidence has deliberately forgotten in the most visible spot of his memory. You see, silence is not just the death of a word, it's also the death of a self-confidence. Maybe this is why there are no insensitive hearts, just hearts that don't find it profitable anymore to feel. Are illusions the gifts a man's ego gives to his stupidity? Most possibly because rich is the person who cannot turn on the lights in that room of his mind where his poverty permanently lives. By doing everything to forget that he has appointed himself the favorite servant of the steepest cliffs that live inside him, the ones that swallow up economy-class truths and spit out first-class ambiguities, Paul will soon discover that he is the gratuity he gives his self-awareness so she will let him live another day without asking him too many questions.
Collection of Poems: For those who measure time in smiles, not minutes. For those who let art blaze new trails in their soul so they can reach those parts of hers they don’t own yet
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
The story of three couples who are about to discover that a marriage's happiness has many entrances but only one emergency exit. Living a life immersed in the questions of relationships that never cared to learn in what order to write their pages, they ended up embracing the part of the other's logic they understood best and the part of their own silence they understood least. The air between them is ready to take into its arms those endless hours of their lives they covered in silence all that they never found the courage to cover in words. It really wants to turn it into the song of six hearts that hand-in-hand will lay siege to the part of their truth they seek from their common future. You see, when a person is no longer able to own the truth today offers him, he convinces himself that it's time to fell in love with the myth tomorrow will eagerly supply him with.
In a duel with his self-confidence Paul is about to find out that he cannot quarrel with his future without quarreling with his favorite version of his own past as well, the one his self-confidence has deliberately forgotten in the most visible spot of his memory. You see, silence is not just the death of a word, it's also the death of a self-confidence. Maybe this is why there are no insensitive hearts, just hearts that don't find it profitable anymore to feel. Are illusions the gifts a man's ego gives to his stupidity? Most possibly because rich is the person who cannot turn on the lights in that room of his mind where his poverty permanently lives. By doing everything to forget that he has appointed himself the favorite servant of the steepest cliffs that live inside him, the ones that swallow up economy-class truths and spit out first-class ambiguities, Paul will soon discover that he is the gratuity he gives his self-awareness so she will let him live another day without asking him too many questions.
Collection of Poems: For those who measure time in smiles, not minutes. For those who let art blaze new trails in their soul so they can reach those parts of hers they don’t own yet
