Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Sunday, October 26, 2008

я турист

HiroshiM.A.

Art BaSELL

OkinOWEa

BAGdot.com

BEAUvedere

MoreACKEsh

South Berlin

QueensLAND

ManHUNTan

ATALia

BuenaVISITA

SOTOgrande

CNN.con

EDEN (closed)


BELLOrussky train station

до сaiвидания

(all the pics are from the center of Athens, captured in an inspirational clear-sky morning, on the 26th Octobert of the year 2008. dedicated to supa sistah Yvonne who will come to conquer the space)


Thursday, October 23, 2008

placid blue





There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.




sarah teasdale
                 

Tuesday, October 21, 2008




I caught a tremendous, extraordinary fish and held him beside my boat half out of the water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth.He didn't fight. He hadn't fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper. Shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled and barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green weed hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen --the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly-- I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip --if you could call it a lip- grim, wet, and weapon-like, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels--until everything was rainbow.
And I let the fish go.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

μικροσκοπική αγγελία



Ένα λουλούδι κι ένα μαργαριτάρι,
χωμένα βαθιά στον λόφο της απαξίωσης
και χαμένα κάπου στον σωρό της εγκατάλειψης,
τον χτισμένο από βρώμικα εσώρουχα
που κουβαλάνε την επανάληψη της κάθε επόμενης μέρας
και την πρόληψη της κάθε προηγούμενης νύχτας,
ψάχνω.
Ένα λουλούδι κι ένα μαργαριτάρι
που εθελοτυφλούν ακόμα πίσω από το άρωμα και τη λάμψη τους
ψάχνω.
Που με μια ανεξήγητη επιμονή, ρομαντική, μιας άλλης εποχής,
επιμένουν να υπομένουν τη χωματερή της απόγνωσης,
παρατείνοντας τη ληξιπρόθεσμη τους ομορφιά εν αναμονή μιας ουτοπίας,
όπου θα μπουν, λέει, όλα τα άπλυτα στο πλυντήριο
ως δια μαγείας,
και στη συνέχεια θα ταξινομηθούν πεντακάθαρα στα ράφια τους,
για να στοιχηθούν και να προσκυνήσουν με σεβασμό
τη διαχρονική τους αξία.
Ένα λουλούδι που μαραίνεται κάπου μέσα στα μαραμένα
κι ένα μαργαριτάρι που θαμπώνει στα λερωμένα
ψάχνω.
Αν τα βρει κανείς, ας μου τα δώσει
γιατί τα χρειάζομαι.
Το μαργαριτάρι μου, γιατί ήρθε η ώρα να το πουλήσω, για να ζήσω.
Το λουλούδι μου, για να το προσφέρω ως αμοιβή σ' όποιον μου το φέρει πίσω.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008



Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes
Little boxes all the same
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same
And the people in the houses all go to the university
And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And there's business executives
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same
And they all play on the golf course and drink their martini dry
And they all have pretty children and the children go to school
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university
And they all get put in boxes, and they all come out the same
And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family
And they all get put in boxes, little boxes all the same
There's a green one, and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

Monday, October 06, 2008

Wednesday, October 01, 2008


           Nα δεις που στο τέλος θα έχει δίκιο ο Λιακόπουλος.

diagnosis

My photo
i have nothing to declare, but a can of tuna