Papírhajó

Egy olyan iskolában, mint amiben most én vagyok, a rendes (belet kihajtó) tananyag mellé mindenkinek 4 más tevékenységet is kell választania: egy sportot, egy szociális munkát, egy olyan munkát, amit az iskolának végez, és egy kreatív foglalkozást.

Nekem ez utóbbi a ‘Creative Writing’. A tutorom tartja, akit nagyon szeretek- igazi művészlélek, az órája pedig nagyon felemelő és relaxáló.

Az utóbbi hetekben két elég jó írást is alkottam a foglalkozáson, most azokat olvashatjátok Mivel a foglalkozás angolul van, ezért az írásaim is angol nyelvűek- sorry Bár a nyelvtan lehet, nem 100%-os, ez titeket most ne zavarjon

I love…

I love life. I love life with its every tiny little mistake. I love life, even though sometimes I suffer from living.

I love to be. I love the sounds which surround me. I love to hear them. I love to enjoy the music of nature, the voices of people.

I love to see. I love all the colors, and the world’s diversity.

I love to touch. I love to explore new areas of the unknown. I can touch because I am not afraid to take the risk.

And I love to be seen, love to be talked to, I love to be touched: that’s what life is about, and I love life.

Bittersweet

Here I am again. After many years of waiting, after many debates, battles, hope and desire, many ends and starts: here I am again.

I am waiting, though I don’t know why. What can I expect…? Can I expect anything?

Whispers, sounds, faces are passing me by. Nobody seems to take care of me.

Here I am again. Lonely, we can say, but in a few minutes I will be accompanied by the most controversial person I have ever met in my life.

He promises, and I start to believe again. Comes, and I start to live again. Destroys, ruins and humiliates me, so I can build my world again… again… and again…

The last time we met was in a grey morning at La Gare Lyon, Paris. That was the grey morning of af the death of my dreams.

And now here I am again. After many years, I still keep on waiting, and every time I am given the chance to be destroyed, I go for it.

Somewhere in the foggy distance a pair of lamps appears. With a bitter smile on my face I stand up to welcome my destiny.

Here we are again.

2.7.7

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