So now im' turning into an obsessive blogger..What's this now, a cry for attention? Oh no, I thought I was too old for that. But I'll go on, whatever. Maybe I'm simply inspired.

Still having a very surreal week. Making me reconsider my place in the world, the meaning of life, what I want, what I'm doing, and all the usual self-involved existential bullshit. Don't worry it only happens..ummm every other day.

The week also included tripping bus drivers, surprising developments, faces from the past, intense mood-swings, just a bit of sunshine to keep us going..Yesterday I even- no, I'm not saying that. Someone might actually be reading. Let's just say that it was unexpected. And not bad at all.

The conclusion? The future doesn't look bleak anymore. Don't know why or what or how or when, but it's all possible somehow and there's nothing tying me down anymore. OK apart from my typical reluctance to get out of this self-imposed prison of safety and strength and isolation. But once I do there's no holding back.

I know, how more vague can you get? We poor, fucked up, overcomplicated people. Symbolism is the weapon of the powerless. (someone please stop me now!)

Today I'm allowed to indulge into a little bit of melodrama. Bittersweet. Yes, I'll laugh at myself afterwards.
But let me quote Longfellow:

Ships that pass in the night, and speak one another in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

When they do to you what you've done to others, is it fair?
Or is it ironic?
Keep playing the game people, that's all we ever do. And it's sad, and it's wonderful, and you can't run away from it. Love it or hate it, at least it makes you feel alive.

Sun's finally out. But we're never satisfied. Obsessions threatening to undermine our sanity. Heavy eyelids, another tired morning. I long for peace but it's nothing but a word. My reflection in the mirror laughs at me. It is a very cynical ill-intended laugh. I smile back.

Who said chaos is unproductive?
It inspires, consumes and transforms you.

Hey, nothing making sense again. I love this feeling of creative desperation, confusion reigns but we embrace it, dangerous worlds await to be explored. Eternally caught between two extremes; to spend your whole life in control of actions, thoughts and emotions,or to let it all go, risk everything you have or think you do just for one fleeting moment of sparkling fulfilling madness.

I haven't decided yet.

I can't stand the rain..How on earth can I spend my days writing about global warming when it's not even happening here?
Miss the sun on my skin.

Black and white photographs. New faces and old. How can you miss something you never had? How can you demand something you let go? Who am I? No, really..

Too many questions again. Writing for an audience makes me self-conscious. That's the problem. But there's no audience. And maybe there's no me. Still I keep projecting my reflection on others. Think I know them as they think they know me. Illusions..

That's enough I want to come down now. Survival a never-ending trip. No antidote. Suicide is a fire exit. Run away.
Well, I'm staying. Too many things to say but I can't say anything. Words and words and words mean nothing. Burn what keeps you safe and warm. Walk barefoot on broken glass. Life's inevitable.
So is death.

Hardcore psychedelic isolation reigning over the oceans of unexpressed emotion. Gone is our paradise of unhindered communication. But hope dies last and why waste our nights with self-absorbed misery? We're free. You, me, and all the imaginary readers in this world.

Been a long time. The world keeps changing. Everyone is looking for Madeleine. Soon the UK will go to war with Portugal. I mean, it's so perfectly natural to leave your kids alone in a hotel room, then wear ribbons in your hair because one of them vanished, and expect the whole world to do the same. 2.5m pounds just for one little girl, while so many of them are dying. Oh I forgot, this little girl is British. And blond. And pretty. And her father is a surgeon. So I guess they really needed the money..
Am I being mean? Who cares?

Athens is sunny but no longer familiar. In your absence, places change, people grow older. They have built shopping malls were parks used to be. Friends are scattered all over the world. Teenagers sit in starbucks and internet cafes. Even the bus routes are different. It's only been a few months..Where am I?

On TV politicians, pop singers and businessmen scream at each other. They always find someone to blame. Tearing their own country to pieces for the foreign media to see. Everyone (including me) complaining about everything.

But still, the light is blinding in the morning, bakeries smell of childhood treats, I can see the mountains out of my window, and there are moments I feel I own the whole city, like it owns me.

Every day in the news people dying, wars, tragedies, real human suffering. You may feel sorry for them, but you just turn the page and it's all over. How is it then that the griefs and terrors and joys of fictional heroes in novels affect us as deeply, as truly, as our own?
Funny that "objective" "unbiased" writing can make even reality seem more distant and artificial than the worlds of fantasy...

Why cheap plasters are not a good idea..

Well, it's simple.
Because if, like me, you cut yourself for the second time in 10 minutes and have to rush to your room, while bleeding all over the place, you may have to spend an eternity trying to release a cheap Tesco plaster from its annoyingly stubborn package, destroying three because you cant use your right hand properly, for obvious reasons...

Then, finally, you return victoriously to the kitchen, only to discover that your lunch no longer resembles anything edible, and end up relying purely on your own blood as a source of protein, since you can't risk cutting more salad. So, better invest in a pack of expensive ones next time. They will probably last you a long long time anyway- unless you're like me, that is.

Ok it's been a long long time. But it went by so fast. This term is almost over and I still don't feel at all like a journalist. Interviews remain a source of extreme anxiety. The future is foreign territory, I don't even want to go nearer.
But we're ok I suppose, been through worse.

Think that's snow?

Seems like the winter is not over yet. But do you think the snow is real? It looks like snow and feels like snow but..the truth is its only another conspiracy. The Bush administration sent planes to carry snow all the way from Greenland, or maybe its just fake snow. You cant see the planes because they fly way above the clouds. Advanced technology- courtesy of NASA.
All this is part of a malicious plan to make us doubt the reality of global warming. I have my sources, you know.

Finally...I am more than pleased to announce that most of the winter is officially over. Don't be fooled by the cold. Summer is coming. Only four months left. Start counting. Days are getting longer. It's happening. We shall return to our only true home. We will be ourselves again. Away from this dark, miserable, wall-surrounded survival. Life is out there.