Pantha Rei Pantha Rei

She : Sometimes staying is just the prolonged form of leaving. He : So, you want me to leave? She : No, I did not say that. He : Then you want me to stay? She : Up to you, really. It is your choice.

The light whips a cut into the raw flesh of my existence. Its initial warmth turns into the rusty heat of remembrance. I make a step forward, for the hope that things might be different somewhere else. Another. And another. I start to turn, first...

He : So it is a done deal then? She : I can’t promise you anything. He : Why not? She : Because I do not know what kind of a person I will be tomorrow.

I run without goal, so every kilometre becomes a reminder that I made another part of the whole. Every step hurts, no matter the pace. I count, as I do not know how many more to come, the milestones I have passed. It pains me less, as I...

He : Soon our lives will be completely virtual. Our bodies will just be the power sources for our new, enhanced selves. I can’t wait. She : Yeah, well, good luck with that.

Can you write Love without my blood, my dear?

I sometimes have this strange feeling that reality might actually exist out there, somewhere hidden behind matter. I wonder if I stare long enough into my tea-cup if I may catch a glimpse of it.

Coming home brings memories with it, one way or the other.

If I take your clothes, what remains? If I take your job, your career, what remains? If further I take your family and your friends from you, what remains? If then I steal your belongings, material and immaterial, what remains? If afterwards I...

It is just so damn good to have one.

She : When life gives you a lemon… He : A lemon? Doesn’t the proverb speak of lemons in the plural? She : Maybe, but one is enough. He : For what? She : To consider your life more fruitful.

He: Once you understand that something is wrong and as soon as you want things to change you must dare to act. She: What if you don’t? I mean, what if you do not dare to act. He: Then you would murder that day and every day thereafter. Until...

For roughly 13.799 billion (+/- 21 million) years it has been set in stone (well maybe not stone, but matter anyway) what you will have for breakfast tomorrow morning. Non, M Camus, there is no meaningful philosophical problem, not even suicide. It...

She: There are takers in life and givers. He: So, the givers suffer because of the takers? She: No, I think they both suffer equally. He: How so? Don’t the givers miss what they gave away? And don’t the takers enjoy what they have been...

Not every desert is one of sand, not every monotony is sepia, some gains weigh heavy, others make you lighter, some are losses, indeed.

He: Why not? She: I am fed up with staring at screens all day long. He: But why? Screens make our lives so much easier, we can watch so many things at once, take in so much more in the same time. She: They make you blind for anything but what...

She: All those birds that can fly away anytime they like, where do they go? He: Anywhere they want. She: But what if they don’t want to go anywhere?

I looked into his deep black eyes and tried to read his thoughts. To no avail, the muscles in his face were static, without the slightest motion. If he was thinking anything then his face did not give it away. I had no idea if he was there to guard...

The night belongs to the demons that manically dance through your dreams. Their curses and spells shatter your sleep so they can drain you of air and energy. The waking hours of the night are yours, though and there you can find beauty even in the...

… has become a confusing and scary place.

I saw flowers reach for your father’s touch, they sprung, then withered, then faded as such their nature is. Their life I grasped, but naught I saw; my eyes where shut when waters still I passed. But wide they got, vivid and bright when I wished...

Be as rational as you like, but there is magic in the trees at night.

‘I have a similar one’ she said rummaging through her brocade handbag, ‘and I am sure it is in here.’ The bumps in the track made the plume on her hat wiggle like the tail of an excited Cocker Spaniel. Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum. The absence of...

Even after 14 years in the shelf my pipe still smells and tastes of tobacco. A good tobacco. I must have had great taste back then.

She: ‘Are you still afraid of walking a dark path, even when you know your destination?’ He: ‘Well, do I know how far it is still away?’ She: ‘For the sake of the argument; let’s say you do, yes.’ He: ‘Well then I think it is...

We shared the same path for a wonderful while, sang the same songs and danced frantically in bacchic ellipses. We entertained the same ideals, not always, just often enough. Not anymore, though. So often you carried my burden as I carried yours,...

If a bird I was, then fly I could. But if I flew, well, then I would for all I knew; at every beat and day anew, for every flap be filled with fear my wings to snap. So here I’ll stay, and what I am, a withered fool and wingless man.

When you make a hop of just 30cm you are already 0.00000000000000009326% closer to the nearest star of Gemini.