Literary escapades

Taking an early morning or evening train may plunge you suddenly into another dimension. The world is too blurry for sleepy eyes and things are happening.   All the little stations that few trains ever stop at during the day and that seem to grow like mushrooms in early hours are piling up a long obstacle course on the way to your destination.  Rising and falling, they make this pitiful string of coaches arch and climb over with the fussiness and precision of a hungry caterpillar looking for the next dish. Treading very slowly, the train will rock you gently in your seat (rare luxury that you traded your precious time for), yawning at every stop, watching lazily with hidden envy passing expresses, while you are sitting back looking for another way to kill time that is in such desperate shortage but is nevertheless convertible into the relative space and quiet.  Strange thoughts are hovering in the brain prompting immediate response in various forms. Music on the background gi

Giant Moon is glaring from the heavy skies, glamorous and intimidating, with the confidence of a bully toying with your consciousness, sharpening senses like school pencils, stirring dark waters deep down your most inner self in an attempt to dig up some unfortunate memories burred long ago, moving leaves, disturbing the soil, shedding light into a complete darkness. Long shadows and forgotten ghosts come to life, zooming on places in the past with exceptional intensity and there's nowhere to run. The stage is set, all lights are on you, while you're trying to summon all the strength and shreds of sanity to offset the avalanche of emotions pouring over your soaking self. Trembling and alone, up against the whole universe, it's all you ever going to get in the end.

The smell of fire is here There's nowhere to hide or pretend it doesn't exist Dozens of flames are dancing around the globe Seemingly remote and lacking immediate significance to those at a distance The ones in the middle of the inferno scream and fight, crying out for help in despair Faces pressed against the glass of indifference Eyes awash with pain of loss Quivering lips Clutching fingers Words can be heard If only we listened weren't sickly used to ignoring the screams, muffle disturbing sound, close eyes and minds to nightmares that came to stay All in the insane hope of avoiding similar fate The ground shudders in pain absorbing streaming tears and blood every day hour Choking helplessness prompts the thought: Are we destined to the final realization: 'All hope abandon, ye who enter here...'

When exquisite beauty enters your life it shatters everything around.  You find yourself in front of it mesmerized and lost. The world suddenly falls into shadows. Frozen in your footsteps you search for answers in the strange perfection that came to be from all the improbable lines merging. It only exists for a brief moment  but is branded on your memory long after it's gone. Deliciously bewitching, it clouds the reasoning and pushes aside seemingly irrelevant, taking all the space in your heart and soul.  You fall into a fantasy that feeds and eats at you, splashing fireworks and dragging through the strongest current of emotions you'll ever experience. With stars falling all around, your eyes are fixed on the sky even if you can't move anymore, or wish, or stay. The least of all you'd want to walk away. Beauty is a powerful addiction that follows you around reminding of itself in every stroke, sound or shadow. Nothing is ever going to be the

Some writings are carefully crafted work of art. Others are raw emotional splashes on a canvas, seemingly devoid of purpose or logic. They blind and disturb by its outright force poured over whatever medium is used. Some appeal to our intellect and others to the deep recesses of hidden inner self, buried underneath all the inhibitions of social expectations, waiting to see the day of light, breathe air and live, if only for a passing moment. As if somebody has suddenly started playing an elaborate music piece on a violin with the nerves instead of strings. Invisible echoes coming from within, respond to the sound, trying to move in unison. And failing, miserably, longing to keep up, fascinated with the mere thought of it. Images, haunting in their exuberant elegance, painted in smallest details when words are felt all the way through, playfully innocent and all the way stirring sleeping monsters deep down, ruffling imaginary feathers and not giving any answers to the questio

I am floating on the shiny, cool surface letting go of myself, memories, dreams, life itself. The warm touch of the sun above and the languid water below are comforting and don't expect my response. I don't think I have anything in me left to give. I am empty and hollow like space. Being a part of things but not the thing itself is a new concept. It doesn't stir any emotions, it seems so distant but clear and logical. Everything is falling into place and illusive balance finally makes its presence known. It matters so little when all the energy is drawn out and the rest of the being feels embalmed and protected from all the chaos and upheavals and too far away to grasp or care. The soft breeze is lighter than a feather, lukewarm water with all the reflections of days gone by and fading into oblivion, muffled sounds of splashing waves, and occasional birds above, sliding between fingers lazy current, and me being and not being myself anymore. Like a melting ice-cream on

Passing youth is knocking on the door with loud insistence of speeding express, with familiar tunes, flashing memories and all the energy it can summon. The hurricane is here, door opens and I am swept away. It's surreal and touching. Still, I am standing behind the glass, watching and listening, unable to enter. One careless movement and it all will disappear, swallowed by the time ripples. Experience is breathtaking and excruciating. The vibe is so overwhelming that suddenly you are at loss which reality matters more. Current surroundings are just a dream... Has it all been just a dream when your heart is racing, aching for reunion with the past with desperate intensity of a last chance, slipping away into another time pocket. When the wind rattles your whole being and inevitable storm is raging around, life behind the glass is all that matters and counts... Brighter than the stars, memories are cutting through the time and space, setting you free to spin in the wind.

Rain is sliding lazily from the leaves, drop by drop. Multicolored hydrangeas, wet and disheveled never looked more beautiful on the background of the silver-tinted skies. Torn clouds keep crying away, tragic and lost, looking down on scenery underneath, wishing to stay and rest on the top of trees or soft, tangled grass, watching the day go by. Silence is only disturbed by the  murmuring water, pouring through the green. Cool moist air fills lungs with unusual freshness that'll soon disappear into the real summer heat, eaten by the ever-hungry sun. Light drizzle is stretching an invisible net, layer by layer, assembling little shiny purls strung together on the web lines, forcing spiders into hiding. Sounds are softened, subdued, cushioned cosily into a mellow cotton ball world, existing only for a moment in June.

It feels like a gaping hole inside. Starting small it seem to be only growing over time, however slowly. It's easy to ignore its existence being busy with trivial everyday routine, push aside vague discomfort of something missing, blaming it on fatigue, lack of time or any other number of things.  Sooner or later it'll make itself known, the reality to be accounted for and the issue to be addressed.  It starts to gnaw at you subtly. The dark seeds of uncertainty begin to grow at first giving just a mild discomfort. Like a cautious disease it hides inside preparing for the silent coup that will dare to challenge your whole being.  It begin by surfacing occasionally during sleepless nights posing strange questions and encamping doubts where they have no place to be. It proceeds then to visit on a regular basis, carefully picking the days and catching you of guard so often that it surprising how the signs of the approach can be missed so notoriously easily.  Learnin

I am mesmerized by the world I haven't seen yet.  I caught a glimpse of it, reluctant or insecure to touch the surface fearing to distort the picture.  I could still find the traces of illusion that it's become. Reality inevitably escapes into memory pockets remaining real just to some concerned, myth to newcomers to slowly vanish with coming years replaced by shifting plates of time, events and people. I wish I could float in time, back and forth. The most incredible travel imaginable.  All the loose ends connected, all the facets in place, beginnings and endings interlocking, in perfect harmony that allows finally see the escaping reasoning from all the angles, without shadows, with nothing hidden, unveiling meanings in most unexpected places wise in their simplicity that doesn't any more elude the eye.

What is happening... Is it me? Is it the world around? Or both... Spinning in the wind, tornados followed by black rain that keeps coming. Life seems so big and  so insignificant at the same time. Emotional tidal waves come and go to bring more storms and inevitable tsunami that will burry us all underneath the dark blanket of water. There won't be any stars to see, no memories will remain intact, no words, no regrets... just that long awaited peace

If time could stay still in the moments that we adore, keep rerunning in our memories, longing to live them again and again, meticulously recalling all the little details, sounds and shades and spoken words that seem to matter more than they did then, like an old movie that after all these years you know by heart. Time is running away with increasing pace that we are too powerless to slow down. The persistent feeling of speeding away towards the edge of a cliff exhilarates and mortifies, all in one, filling this seemingly auspicious ride with fascination and terror playing in turns with your mind, juggling unrelated pieces of life that go up and down in the air like a flash, burning into your brain, stirring myriad of emotions that won't like to be forgotten. The sweetness and the pain of a moment disappearing in front of your eyes with the vague premonition of a future regret. The lights are descending into shadows, and slowly melting evening sun is touching the day for the la

Things are happening too fast and it's still too early to understand why they're happening at all. With such unusual start suddenly bursting into your life showing its corners in a completely new light. So vivid and unexpected, vaguely familiar and yet strangely peculiar, fresh and edgy, touching and sad, gripping all your being with such a powerful force and yet giving you freedom to decide if you wish to continue with this wonderfully crazy charade that excites even more with every coming day. Time is arching itself trying to accommodate the change. Every step is a novelty with the windows opening to another reality

You never know where grains of pain may hide one day to come to life with the exquisite torture from the shadows in infinite surprise to startle and ambush the fortress left with no defense

I am letting my little obsession glide me through the day. Sometimes I feel I am playing with it like a cat with a mouse, catch and release. I am giving it green light to entertain me. I am controlling the game (or so it seems.) I could direct my attention somewhere else but what would I do without the butterflies inside me, the ticklish feeling of curious fascination and slow enjoyment. At first it was unexpected and slightly bewildering, coming from seemingly familiar place but so sudden in its new angle that led straight into 'Alice in Wonderland' rabbit hole. And here I am, weeks from then, still on the other side exploring the unknown, moving back and forth in time just to find something new every day. I got used to the butterflies. I'm familiar with their comings and goings. The images have sharpened, feelings acquired new facets, senses are heightened to the breaking point. Joy ride indeed with a little sadness of inevitable expiration. There must be some meaning

There is this moment in life that comes on occasion like a wondering comet. You may or may not notice its approach, you might only catch the glimpse of its tail. It's not always clear what it means but it certainly brings an incredible change. Things are never going to be the same. It's a given. You may miss it being engrossed in million other things life keeps throwing your way when all you really want is a year long vacation. This rush makes you deaf and blind to the world outside the immediate spec. And it's nothing worse than opportunity passing you by just because you didn't hear the knocking. Too tired to react in timely manner, too preoccupied with things that won't matter in a larger scheme but still require to be done. There's an incredibly strange feeling that something is racking your world from inside, burrowing tunnels through your sleepy consciousness,  lighting the fire and starting another major reconstruction. You can be a willing participant

You wake up in the middle of the night from a sudden jolt. Struggling to recognize the surroundings and assess the danger you realize it's quiet and peaceful with deem lights and usual little noises of the night. Until the new jolt. And the frightening truth is that it comes from within. Something sinister is creeping quietly into your soul looking for shadows to hide. Like a cold snake sneaking away under the stone. The touch of a slippery cold being climbing in is incredibly real or it just seems so in a twilight of dream and reality. The feeling of invasion persists. Trying to analyze it doesn't help, ignoring it doesn't work either. All efforts are focused on identifying the intruder. Meanwhile, probing cold and suspicion grip you even tighter with the edging premonition that escalates playing on your nerves and resurrecting unrecognized fears. Suddenly you are fully aware of even stranger feeling of something from the past making its own way from the dark corner

There is no tomorrow Everything is happening Now With every minute passing away to never return It's here anything and everything that will ever be It's all here In a glass On a palm of the hand Now Time sliding Everything else Irrelevant Life Is happening This very moment

Writing falls on you like an avalanche, waterfall sweeping away all other, less important things, forcing you on a front line with your pen and paper or more likely smart phone or tablet. Things've changed and there isn't always anything to scribble on, plus it's easier to correct and save instead of carrying heaps of papers with questionable handwriting and strange abbreviations that might as well make very little sense later on. Words are pouring in, back and forth as you go, at home or city trains, anywhere they can catch your attention. Operating on some other level you look from various angles at world around you and somehow see more than just the surface of busy streets with people and scenery constantly changing appearances, somehow you recognize the pattern in this chaotic flow and start plotting the next step. You can write about it or not, you can revisit it later in months or years, or you can fly over the whole big picture and capture it right now when it'

Let me dream about what might've been, in one of other lives, maybe, with circumstances in sinc, with time and place irrelevant, drifting in and out, enjoying the glimpses of 'what if' and living through it with the sharpness of the clear day with all colors and sounds mixing up, filled with emotional upheaval that comes down like an avalanche but instead of burring you underneath lets you soar as high as you can see, when catching your breath looking down is so exhilarating like nothing you've ever experienced and then plunge into the rainbow of feeling you never knew existed, were possible or even had names, with tidal wave carrying you further away in this marvelous ride devoid of any immediate concerns, so precarious and so liberating with all the euphoric undertones and forgotten worries, with sweet aching and longing to continue this race, burning candle at both ends until it lasts, deep down knowing it won't and still wishing for the miracle.

Living is being in and out of love with someone or something. Rising to the heights and falling into abysses and putting yourself together in all new places and times readying for another ride on a crazy roller-coaster with all the promises of thrill and heartbreak, tingling butterfly wings in your throat and rains of sorrow wiping everything on its way just to let new grass appear again and again in the endless chain of events that form and shape very inner being leaving you with all the creases and scars of old dramas, unresolved issues and undying hopes piled in the immaculate line of events that will mold you day after day, year after year, ever surprising when it happens, taking by storm that comes with downpour from the most unexpected places and refuses to leave until you are finished satisfying this hungry need to peel the surface, layer by layer in a desperate attempt to make some kind of sense out of this universal game, until the mind is so exhausted in the treacherous run w

At times an exquisite beauty will make you stop, linger, walk away and turn back to take another look, to pause and observe the lines adding up in something so unique and almost perfect, although without the cold detachment, with all the life touches and scars, humorous lines and little wrinkles of age, subtle changes reflecting the light and depth with the warmth coming from within of something so extraordinary and at the same time so simple and accessible but still inspiring quiet fascination and wonder with the unstoppable desire to stay and watch with the pleasure and longing, full of uncertain emotions that are new and refreshing, watching from the distance and closer, changing angles, unable or unwilling to look away even for a second