Sometimes you can make fun of time. Hide. The movement of others makes you move in the peloton. You pay attention to every little detail around you. You make mosaics with the images. You dream with your eyes open. You can. You feel like you live.
Your books look like the beautiful beaches. Ment to attract. It is the swimmers choice to stay in the shallows or to swimm deeper.
You project your future. Resistance. Every now and then you ask. With the gaze fixed. Eternal soul.
Thoughts as images are impure free. They are filled of the beautiful sky. Innocent. They marry destinies. In a universe that gives birth to lives.

One season. You live in a vacuum of time. Without the insecurities of the people touching every tomorrow. You dawn love.
An invisible thread. Ties the tomorrow with you. You never meet the end of it. A face. Can answer. Questions never asked.
Many in the centuries. Hermes of the few. Aspirations with compost lives. They bear bad fruit.
Σκέψεις. Δημιουργούν παρέλαση λέξεων. Ζευγαρώνουν εικόνα αυτές.
Επετειακή επανάληψη. Χαρίζει κάθε εβδομάδα. Κίνητρο που δεν ξεθωριάζει.