Still.

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Face it. That you cannot go on without me. Toss that pride aside and let it out. Put an end to the torment of never knowing which way the wind is blowing.

I still remember…the crazy ways of starting an argument and never settle until the truth had sweated out of our bodies. I still reminisce the endless walks down our own happiness spree, ignoring everyone else, because everything else, it simply didn’t matter. I  can still feel the dance after all the music had stopped and the passionately maddening sound of your voice. I carry on to still remember us. Do you?

I still crave for that love and I am convinced that no greater one could ever exist. I am not afraid or ashamed to acknowledge it, life is too short and too cruel having put this distance between us. Make it vanish, take it away or fill it with more memories of us. I cannot picture what the future holds without your warm presence in it. Can you?

I still want to remember how your swift and firm hand seized mine.Sometimes, it all seems to be exhaustingly  difficult to remember these. I think time no longer needs time and we may write our own story. Don’t you?

I don’t know how overwhelming or deprived of importance this must feel to you now. Will you tell me?

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20 seconds to … myself

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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just begins
to live that day.

~  Emily Dickinson

‘So, you are a writer?’

[…]

‘Uhmm… I believe I am.’

Those twenty seconds that followed the question had thrown me in a sudden ambiguity continuum and before I could come up with an answer, I knew I had to be honest to myself. I found myself released from that vortex of self-contradiction and desire to find the truth for myself only when the next Christmas tune broke the silence. In the uni coffee shop, while friendly chatting over a nice cup of Starbucks’ latest caffeinated drink conquest. It took me a while to come up with an honest answer because somehow, my friend’s innocent question had succeeded to unleash a tacit torment.

For the first time, someone other than myself acknowledged my calling. I couldn’t help but wonder if there is something about it that just shouts out to everyone ‘hey, I am a writer’ or if some of us posses an extra ability to read people.

It was my chance to be honest to myself and publicly acknowledge who I am.

Of course, the highest story of all is yet to be accomplished because I can feel it grow. Slowly, step by step and drop by drop it builds its way out. Very soon it will be complete, but then will I gather the courage to share with the world? I always end up going back to the great names which went down in writing history and while I do not have any unrealistic expectations of ever becoming one of them, I desire a flicker of their courage. After all, we are being judged every single day of our life, most of time not even knowingly. Yet, we find the strength to carry on, because we are not alone and we have a story to tell.  And not only once, but always, the greatest books ever written were the mere product of a lifetime translated into hope and purpose. Because no matter how harsh this reality is, if we are able to pass on our story we are vainquers. And perhaps, one day, someone’s hero.

2015

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fear Factor.”

Of never getting my story across.

My only fear is that it will always remain unfinished.

The rushy words inside my head are now throbbing inside my stomach and they pinch my feet. They’re not just Saussurean representation of sounds and images, they’ve already connected and formed a tiny terracotta army. Sometimes, I can hear them. Their slow march grows inside my ears before I go to sleep and sometimes even when I am dreaming.   When I awake, I try to grab them by their tail and ‘pull the story back trough me’. For the past months it managed to get away from me. Hiding behind everyday’s tumult I have rapidly created the perfect comfort zone with sharp edges. Sometimes, I would hit myself against them and the sweet pain of writing again emerges…for a while. But there are times when I bleed, continuously and I do not die, instead, I feel free like floating on top of the world. Vertige, you might say? Perhaps. Yet, I am enjoying it.

This is my promise to myself: from now on, not a day shall pass without continuing my story. It is my destiny, or less fatalist, it is who I am. And I owe it not only to myself but to the One who has put this in me.

We are all here for a purpose. The others are awaiting to see our light. Sit under the tree of inspiration and make room for your story to flow. Freely.

Make this year the best story of your life!

Make Coffee. Not War.

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(My) Some people’s slogan ^_^

Coffee Drinkers Make Better Lovers

Coffee lovers unite to end violence!

This is a poster I designed for my submission to Coffee Art Project. Even though my stroke made using the mouse difficult, I want to do my part to raise funds and awareness for the project.

The Coffee Art Project is a high profile art competition linked to the theme of coffee; it is one of the core initiatives of UK Coffee Week. Organized in collaboration with Tate Modern and Tate Britain, the competition aims to showcase the creativity of emerging artists, while engaging those who share a passion for great coffee. Artworks submitted will be auctioned at The London Coffee Festival with all proceeds supporting much-needed clean water and sanitation initiatives in coffee producing countries.

Make Coffee Not War

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Free to Love

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“Love liberates. It doesn’t just hold—that’s ego. Love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says, ‘I love you. I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re across town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But that’s not possible now, so I love you. Go.” ~  Maya Angelou

I just want to close my eyes and see you … remember you with each fiber of my body, every cell of my skin to be filled with your warmth. It is impossible to forget you, as my body remembers yours all the time: the sweet, calm emotion of your arms embracing me, I can still feel it. It’s been almost a year and more days to pass until we will be together again, yet we’d never felt this close. At the slightest inflection of your voice, my heart starts racing, telling me you’re here and that the empty side of my bed is but an illusion. You can make the time stop: nothing’s changed and everything’s alright at your only reassurance. We do not fear distance, we own it. We let distance pull us together and confess rather raw and unfinished, honest thoughts that make us unbreakable. No judgement finds its place in our life, because we can see ourselves mirrored in each other thus, knowing what to adjust and how to be free to be us even when or not together.

‘What is on your mind?’

The type of question that no longer seems to be needed; because you and me, we both know. It is the look in your eyes, the mere reflection of my own image and tears that gather in the corner of your eyes that speak. Words are redundant when the souls connect; we are so different, yet so inseparably the same. You once said we were twins and perhaps that in an ancient time our souls truly were, and now they had re-found each other. It might be the reason why we know one another inside-out and why we find comfort in simply being in a duet. Not two voices that sound like one, but voices that beautifully harmonize and make the singing birds feel jealousy.

There is no part of my existence that has not been incommensurably touched by you. My coffee? It always reminds me of the early mornings when before leaving for work, I would make two cups of coffee, gently placing one by the night stand next to you, only to find it later in the evening, almost untouched and in the same place. It did not bother me, on the contrary, it was one of the sweetest ways to start the day although you didn’t need to wake up and neither did you really enjoy the bitter-sweet taste of it, you wanted to be part of my morning routine and it never felt more lovely. Or your hugs when waking up beside you, that only made want to abandon all worldliness and just slip back into dreams.

Your arms bear magic, the kind of magic that sweeps all the sorrows and make me believe all is possible.

Soulmates

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Rarely do we meet people who truly understand the reason behind our actions … even those you ran into a couple of times, seem to read you so much better than the ones that have known for a matter of years.

It’s amazing how reassuring it feels to simply hear a confirmation of what you are doing right now, in this very moment in life, is the right stage for you; then again, why cannot those who claim they know you, offer you the same trust and encouragement?

Are we just prone to judge the people we ‘know’ best? Or are we merely listening with our heads instead of open hearts?

I believe that in a friend’s perspective, it all starts from the premise of how long you’ve know each other as an allowed-judgment-tool that empowers them to question your every move; not that it would be for the wrong intentions, definitely all’s in your best interest. However, too much questioning always makes you wonder and ponder on the perfectly sure about decision: isn’t in fact, but a dream, a house built on sand? They ask safety questions. Nonetheless, if not in appropriate dosage, it can easily break the spirit. A little piece of safety advice from me: don’t let it happen, know when and where to draw the line. If you provide good answers to their questions and yet it’s not enough, then it’s entirely their choice to either be happy for you, support you or to walk away. Good friends will always be there for you, despite of differences of opinions, circumstances … through it all. The ones who hold your hand and walk beside you. The ones who let you be yourself and with whom even words become redundant. The ones you dearly miss when having a coffee and they’re not present. The ones who make you feel like time stands still, every time you meet.

Perhaps that until later in life, one will not realize the impossibility to blindly rely on the carefully well-intended doubts of friends, and that the time will be just right to learn who their soul mates actually are.