Life in the old Montmartre, to drink to Love and Life, to share lust with artists, blend into their paintings, oblivious to space and time. To live for love and lust, to love and lust so as to live, to lose and win with a smile, to love a writer, seduce men and also turn down a prince. To live in spiralling pleasure, to linger in fading minutes, to dance through the night, just to welcome the sunrise, inebriated with new...

Her story. She knew their time together would be brief, she knew he would one day join the evanescent group of lovers that had once visited her life, she knew he would give all of himself in the spiraling madness of orgasm and take it all away once this was over. She knew all this beforehand and yet she went into it wholeheartedly, eagerly, challenging herself to emerge unscarred. He had been like tropical rain, barely gi...

The mirror called civilization, reflecting just shattered shadows, silhouettes condemned to dance against some semi-bright surface, feelings augmented and belittled, pain ignored and slowly festering, all hitting the sensibly cracked mirror, all claiming to be seen and heard for what they were really meant to be, for what they never stopped being. The cracked mirror holds just images, there´s no true, honest reflection, j...

I had just failed to see your scheduled parting, the swift tearing apart from flesh, love and desire. It was just one moment in a never forgotten day when all pieces came together; the days of persistent silence, the messages blatantly ignored, the meaningless, empty words, all blended in a wretched puzzle. And though still next to me somehow you were by choice already gone, gone into the pursuit of other arms, in the sea...

Just dusty objects in a box, just traces of love affairs, of friendships long gone and whispers in bedrooms. Just a house standing alone, bearing witness through time. Just our memories in the air, some words echoing softly in the dark tunnels of the mind, smiles of long-gone days, flimsy stories refusing to die.    

Old white lace and dried red roses, sharing their loneliness of years, together in a silken creamy box, at the mercy of diligent hands, of minimalist decluttering efforts, lost to the world and themselves, still bearing the touch of loving hands and the slight whispers of desire. Old white lace yellowing softly, dried red roses losing their colour, hidden together in a silken box, bearing the fading scent of eerie lust, t...

And I walked to the neighbourhood where you used to live years back, I stood in front of the house, the one that used to be yours long ago, seems other people live there now I looked at the old door, iron, and glass, and I saw behind it the very steps I used to climb happily, hurriedly, rushing to find the safety of your arms. I could catch a glimpse of the big hall and the sunlight shining on other lives. .And then I saw...

They have to leave the house, the house painted so lovingly, they carry their cat with them, they already placed their dog In a kennel, till they find a place, they don´t complain, they go on, just seeing all is taken care of. And the child follows them, shaken for a minute at first, at their rapidly changing station, comforted then at their new one. They would change hotels, adjusting, making ends meet, keeping together...

Even if our shaken world crumbles into nothingness life goes on in the Universe. Even if the generous sun does not find us tomorrow light goes on in the Ether. Even if we cease to be our energy circles other orbs and blends into Time and Space.  

Bound to schedules and shifting hours, in an ever-changing background, grinding minutes for all they are worth In a shaking world of multiple duties, struggling to reach now-not-so-clear goals falling into some devouring marshes we had always managed to overlook, we go on, holding onto scraps of reality, those pitiful reminders of the life we knew.    

The perennial rhythm of the waters, the swift gliding of birds in flight, the bright light of mid-mornings giving days some eerie insight, the lingering scent of love stories pervading the nostalgia of twilight, the lush shade of evergreen gardens, and the mysteries of clouded nights, the grinning Time switching roles just to render our dreams almost real, our small story stored in our souls and our names branded in the w...

Just lost in nuances in busy corners of the mind and tricks of elusive memory, feeling feeble fragments   of some hidden reality,   lost in a thick dark fog,   in an already crumbling world,   holding onto some figments   of a menacing dimension,   falling into a spiralling vortex   caved into the shifting sands   of the trembling Psyche.  

  She saw him from far, he stood tall among men, circumstances, and life in general. He had always done so. The years had chiselled his features, there were no wrinkles, and his body seemed as lean and firm as ever. She looked at him, loving every cell in him, worshipping him from far. She was so pleased to see he was as beautiful as he had been the day she had met him. She followed him everywhere, unseen and unheard. He...

If you ever remember our story, just don´t look for me in any place we shared, don´t try to find me again in sunlit flowery gardens, don´t hope to see me in the human tides of avenues. It is no use looking for me, I waited for you too long a time, kept the torches burning in a temple you had forsaken and I was left to see crumbling. Still, there are traces of myself in the moon lined clouds, in the dark waters of canals,...

Your warm hello hid the memory of countless goodbyes, your charming smile hid the tears you caused along your cool way, your beloved carefree manner hid the sadly shuffled steps of those you coldly discarded. and at some odd meeting point lust and desire crumbled swiftly, a castle built on shifting sands, leaving only the pale memory of a rose-scented love affair, laced with broken goblets, cooling ashes in a fireplace, a...