Every day is a journey. Every time you wake up is the beginning. There are many things to do, smile, dance, love, search but make something. You are as brave and strong as you feel. Or maybe less, I don’t know. But not more.

You think that your life is like a prison, a boring routine. Change it. No time for excuses. You are the only judge of your life and you are the same time the only one that you hurt when you stay at a situation that drains your energy. Most times, when we see the void, we want to go as deep as we can and stay there. Maybe we can not even understand it. It is like a curse, a dirty game created by our programming. The more I notice everyone, the more I feel like we are fucking robots. Every time you are angry with somebody or a situation you are angry with yourself, that you were not able to react.

I like people who inspire me, who are not always talking about their boring jobs, their boring relationships and sports. I like people that are actors and not spectators neither extras. I like the unusual cases, people that branch off the average, notch their lines, think independently and this is so difficult. I like things that have a meaning. I don’t want just to spend my time. This is the beginning of death.

We are here to make dreams and change somewhat the world. You can be everyone you admire. It is more guts than talent. Most people that influence you are boring, useless, already dead. Breath strongly and scream: I will be the change I seek for you. And by this way motherfuckers I can be a thorn for you, that shows a different way.

Συνουσία Νο 2

Lately, when the day gives its turn to the night this burden in my chest becomes heavier. This restless feeling that I have lately becomes more urgent and these four walls cannot restrain me anymore. It’s the sweet whisper of the night that makes promises and I cannot decline.

I am meeting my friends tonight but I am in no hurry. I take the longest path in order to enjoy my loneliness first. I zip my coat to feel my own warmth and take a small walk. The silence of the night is unique; everything is like in slow motion. It gives me the feeling that this world, even the stars and the moon that I gaze is completely mine. My self-awareness is on its peak level and in every corner I have this intuition that I am going to see something special.

On nights like this, I cannot stay calm. It’s the sweet whisper of the night that urges me to mix with people and Live. Have you ever heard it?

It’s such a sweet, sweet night. A cool breeze is shaking the newborn leaves and is making them rustle and sing their prayers to the goddess of spring nights. This soft murmur is stealing my thoughts away from my everyday concerns and sends them riding on the starlight to faraway places.

I start daydreaming, or, should I say, nightdreaming, of these people I have yet to meet, the smiles I will add to my collection, the adventures I will narrate to my grandchildren as bedtime stories, when I am an old, old man. I still have time, I tell myself. Just after my twenty-fifth birthday, I hardly consider myself an adult. But still, there’s this disturbing image I see every time I dream of the future: I think of myself as an old man again, but this time everything is different. I am lying on my deathbed, with nothing in my mind but regrets; regrets of the trips I always postponed, of the friends I lost, the moments that slipped away from me. Regrets of the life I never lived.

I shiver; this image is so powerful that seems to darken the night, as if the stars aren’t bright enough to shine through my fears. I stop and grab a tree branch next to me so I don’t fall. Is there no hope? How will I save my life from bitter regret?

Suddenly I see a boy, probably around my age, walking slowly on the opposite side of the road. Although the night is a bit cold, he seems to be fully enjoying it, while I am lost in despair. How can this be? ”What is your secret?” I scream silently.

Even though I made no sound, he turns and, with a knowing smile, winks at me. Suddenly everything is clear; I need to stop dreaming about people and start meeting them instead, stop thinking of life and just Live. I smile and nod back. As I continue my night walk, I know that life is not something we wait to experience, it’s rather what we actively create. I am also certain that, although I don’t even know his name, the boy with the zipped coat is my friend.

The days passed by like this, and the two young men kept seeing each other while walking, their moods fluctuating between the two extremes on the spectrum of the human psyche, never coinciding. There were times when one of them was in a better position to wordlessly remind the other what should be known, and other times when these two roles alternated.

But there was a night when, mesmerised by intoxicating scents and beguiling songs, they took a turn towards the same magical forest. At last, the fear or desire of death was very far away. Every breath they took was a challenge to Death.

And that’s Life.

Grito + Serotonin Addicted