Before sleep — 2013/10/21

My speech is autumn, winter. Your gaze is spring, your touch is summer. There is more to give by the eye than writing can offer. The people around me all the time, with the postures of angels, big virgins Mary, quiet Sebastians.


The glances — 2012/03/05

I enter the bar. Immediately, my glasses are covered with a thick fog, which forces me to take them off. In spite of my myopia, I feel everyone's eyes falling on me. We are in the Village, the clientele is self-oriented. As a result, whoever enters becomes the object of an insistent, detailed examination. They would take out boxes to give me a score that I wouldn't be surprised.