Seeking...

Chopin- Nocturne no 20


The authors are very weird creatures.

They write about pain as if it doesn't exist, when they have met it personally. They can tell you how death looks like, because they have looked in his eyes.

They write about loneliness, because not only it exists inside them, but they also nurture it...

They love their solitude, like ghosts love the night... like priests have their churches and temples... like fish live only in the water...like critics love the theater and like rings need the fingers to exist...


I am such an author. I can talk to you about the endless nights or even the very long days, when I am seeking the darkness...

Love dances passionately with death sometimes.
Romeo's story is well-known anyways...


How many poets have tried to capture the beauty of the known and the unknown?

I wish I will be great one day, like them.

And this way, I might manage to hold a tobacco pipe in my own unique style.
I might succeed to dance in my own rhythm.

So, this way, I might also discover happiness...

Ernesto Cortazar- Beethoven's silence