After a week with so many words, there comes a pause on Sunday. The big day when God doesn’t ask anything from us.
This day with its own routine that does not even look like this relentless search for balance between what happened recently, those that are coming, and the dreams that beg our effort.
Sunday, a station that is becoming the calm sea in which we stay afloat, as the distance to our dreams is getting shorter.
Sunday, a line that we don’t want to face when we’ve lost the magnetic north of our route.
Στην άκρη του ορίζοντα. Eκεί που σμίγουν τα μπλέ της Θάλασσας και του ουρανού. Εκεί κολυμπούν τα μάτια μου. Ψάχνουν τη ζωή μακρυά. Απόσταση στην ασχήμια των ανθρώπων.
Σκέψεις. Δημιουργούν παρέλαση λέξεων. Ζευγαρώνουν εικόνα αυτές.
Επετειακή επανάληψη. Χαρίζει κάθε εβδομάδα. Κίνητρο που δεν ξεθωριάζει.