Poetic Movements

Taste in the atmosphere across all highway lanes is captured in the first sense of a dizzying warmth and watching twice before you cross the road now. Mountain peaks circle the eyes but my thought has already dived in the sea or the river or inside an afternoon even warmer than this one. The senses have developed different signposts for each other thing and I've been spending my time lately tracking down disagreements; without resolutions. Today the sun smelled like curry and there was so much joy like that time when it was close to Easter and at the heart of Spring and the only reminder of those was the day becoming longer and the coffee was not getting cold so quickly anymore, neither were your hands. We sat by the river bridge eating fries dipped in curry sauce fighting seagulls staring at the land across.    April 2021, Athens. Photograph: stream of Ouse, Rodmell, East Sussex; June 2017.

  The train bounces unsteadily on the tracks as the sun pierces through the windows and reaches my eyes; a light almost pristine. It’s warmer now – warmer and quieter – except for the continuous sounds of battle between the ground and what carries us. And I feel secure engulfed by the mass of something bigger one with it myself becoming obsolete. I look down at my hands rough and dry, reddish against the bright light acknowledging the day is not far. Swallows will show at the porch of the front door bearing the strangest correlation again; the recurring future. The train drags itself heavy, somewhat carelessly suspending time and expectations. In the time remaining before the swallows arrive, one more moment before reddish also becomes the sky, the landscape seems all too familiar and the lines of the horizon fall hard against the tracks. The birds will soon arrive. April 2021, Athens. Phot

Ας κοιμηθούμε πάλι με τα μάτια στον ήλιο προτού χαθούν τα χρώματα και προτού χαθείς εσύ. Τις Κυριακές ανεμίζουν τα ρούχα κρεμασμένα ανάμεσα στη φυλλωσιά νωπά σαν πίνακας που δεν ζωγράφισες ποτέ. Τις Κυριακές που κανείς δεν τις θυμάται για όσα πραγματικά ήταν αλλά για όσα θα μπορούσαν να γίνουν έρχεσαι μία σκιά φωτεινή μα και δυσπρόσιτη και οι κουρτίνες στο σπίτι χαμογελούν αλλάζοντας μορφή και σχήματα. Και να πώς αποκοιμιέμαι στο μπαλκόνι αναπνέοντας μία δέσμη φωτός προτού χαθείς και η μέρα σβήσει. 04 Απριλίου 2021, Αθήνα. Φωτογραφία: 03.04.21, Κορυδαλλός.