He's Gone...

Little, vulnerable boy's heart couldn't take it any more and he gave in at a sunny December noon. With the tears in his eyes, he left us silently. Nothing could bring him back, for his leave was forever.

It's hard to believe, it's hard to accept and it's hard to deal with.

It's too real to be true, it's too real to happen and it's too real to cope with.

She Wanted

She wanted to speak, but she believed in the sanctity of the words. She remained silent.
She wanted to love, but she believed in sanctity of platonic love. She remained unloved, in pain.
She wanted to see, but she doubted the colors. She remained blind.

Big Loneliness in a Small World

The more my trip got longer, the lonelier I became. This small city enveloped me in such a solitude that once a small issue now became a major one. Today, I suffer a lot from big loneliness in my small world. As loners do laugh on their own in public, tonight I prefered tears. I cried in a public mean on my way "home."

A Big Bleeding Heart in a Small City

Today I saw a man in the underground which reminded me of my ill father. He was a middle-aged man with dark features.Contrary to my father, his body didn't show any evidence of an illness. His appearance had nothing to do with my father's, but still I kept on believing that he looked exactly like my father. The man was a loner like me, I thought. A few minutes later he justified my first thoughts of him. He was smiling alone. Lonely hearts do that quite often. I know. He smiled alone in the crowd of the train a couple of times. Sadly, it was my time to get off the train.

I looked at him once again.I said good-bye to him.

I said good-bye to my father.

Forever.

We Never Know

I was waiting for this silence through my screams.I was looking for this pain through my happiness. Now I have the silence, I have the pain, I have all I wanted.
My role has changed, so are my wishes. Like everyone. What we once want becomes unwanted, what is once undesired now is desired.
We never know.
We never know.

Unrecognized

Sunk in the ugliness of the daily life, there she remained unrecognized.
Her existence was so vivid, so un realistically beautiful. Yet, nobody's seen her. And she stood there timidly in an ugly garden of a church. Unrecognized.
And I. I was blinded by her beauty. I stopped walking to make sure of what I was seeing. She was uniquely beautiful. She was uniquely alive. She was uniquely true,true to life.

It was in another routine day I realized...

When people around me were sunk in the ugliness of the world, I was drawn by the beauty of it.

Ugliness

He wanted to show me all his faces.
I refused.
He wanted me to know all his feelings.
I refused.
I took the beauty out of him, locked it in my heart and left the rest to him.
"I don't need any ugliness, for I'm in love with beauties", I said...
He looked at me and saw the ugliness he didn't want to see in me. Just said.

Night and the Stranger

A crazy thought like vanishing into the night with a stranger crossed my mind. I could do that as he was more than willing to do that. But, I preferred to vanish into the night alone, leaving him completely puzzled and alone.

I did it.

I didn't look back. I was happy. I was free from another dream.

He'll Be Back One Day

I know this eternal silence will be broken by you one day.
I know.
And I am saving my words to show.

Your words will pour onto me once again.
Here I am waiting.
For the words come to me again.

"Your Eyes Are Beautiful," He Said

"Your eyes are beautiful," he said. Like all the men I've known in my life. He was right. They were all right with their words, without knowing their meaning.-will continue-

Her Existence On the Way Home

Her entire existence dissolved to nothingness on her way home...

Together alone with my loneliness

In the empty streets of Lisbon, I was alone with my loneliness last night. As I walked through,empty streets filled my thoughts, shook my feelings.


With a gently blowing breeze caressing my hair,lost not only in my thoughts but also in this planet, I felt incredibly lonely.

Last night, me, my thoughts and my loneliness filled the streets. I was together alone with my loneliness.

Deaf Man

In her world, she felt what would this lead to. And she expressed this resentment. She screamed,but the words were not enough; she cried, but tears didn't wipe her sadness away; she opened her wardrobe and threw all her clothes to the floor. At the edge of losing her mind, she realized once again that her screams were not heard by him.

For the fact that he was deaf, a deaf man.

She

On the surface she was an iceberg, inside her soul was surrounded by flames, burning.

She in Her Reality, He in His Dreams

She's gone. She's gone away.
She'll come. She'll come back, he thought in a state of great desperation. He just couldn't think his life without her. Love, feelings, hopes, expectations, dreams can all be illusions. Life, like her, has illusioned him. Now, there was not much left to be said. She's gone...Life's gone...

From her part, life was always there. Different from him, she knew how to take life and she did. She wanted to be away. Away from him, away from their numb, routine life. She wanted once again to feel what it was like to be alive. When was the last time she had strong feelings that would make her shake? She couldn't remember. Her dead feelings were no longer needed. What was needed was to act. To act her role in life; to save her lost self in this marriage and be herself. Once again. Uniquely, beautifully and freely.

One Second, one entire world

I was conducting my lesson with a game, drawing some stick figures to help my student guess the key word. It was my "mind-map" consisting of many "spokes". In one particular "spoke", I was drawing my family. It was my father's turn to be drawn. I did. But, when it came to the part that I should have added some hair on top of his head, I stopped for half a second. Then I continued drawing each hair one by one in a second. While I was drawing three standing hair on his head, millions of things crossed my mind.I wanted to stop, but I couldn't.

One second...one entire world...

Her Hands

Before you dive into the depth of her eyes, by touching her hands you would feel what she has gone through all her life long.
Her rough hands tell the story of her life, or in better words, her fight.
Her worn out hands would make you feel the hardness of her heart that has been shaped by pains, sufferings and tears....in order to protect, to be sheltered, to survive, to fight and to embrace...life.

If you get the chance to get to know her one day, touch to her hands before looking her in the eye.
And understand the meaning of life...

Storms

Neverending stormy thoughts in my small world still take me back and forth to you. You disappear among the waves of my thoughts, make me think it is over, but it isn't..In the moments I believe the storm is over, I'm over you, you come back to me with even stronger memories.

Why?

Why are you still a part of my mind, if not my heart?

It has never been over...

Private Eye Portugal

My neighbour, a dark-haired beautiful man in his early thirties, lights his cigarette at the window of the kitchen and looks away in deep thoughts every evening after dinner. His pondering posture attracts me so much that I want to get into his thoughts, dreams and whisper into his ear; you, I and the rest...so helpless and yet restless...

Private Eye Denmark

I used to wake up at 6 am by the reflection of the light of a tablelamp which my neighbour used to turn on. Then I would raise from my bed and watch her slow moves from my bare window. The reflection of the light was so powerful that after a while, our sleeping and waking up hours had become the same. That's how our untold story began:We shared the same routines without being aware of, secretly...

Private Eye

In each country I live, I select secret lives from the windows of my apartment. Each time I look at those lives that surround, as well as exclude me, I dream; what's going on behind the curtains. If I'm lucky and can see my ghost neighbour, I try to guess what he/she is doing and what he/she is thinking. Even though the truth is a mystery, the games of imagination on reality gives me the greatest joy.

http://blogology101.blogspot.com/

The owner of this blog wrote so lovely comments for my blog. I'd like to thank him from here once again for his comments that had an "awakening" effect on my sleepy, unspoken words...

Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Tomorrow

It scares me off to think tomorrow today...

Againts The Stream

Possessed by a mysterious romantic night, now it was time to set her soul free.
Every step she took in the river was a declaration of independence of her enslaved soul.
She walked against the stream,
Would she swim?
She didn't know how to swim in the sea of others.
She drawned.
In peace.

A Complete Woman in Turkish

He could speak of his feelings only in his own language. She never understood what he meant, for he was a great man in Portuguese.
Deep in heart, she knew he could never understand her native feelings, for she was a complete woman in Turkish.

All My Lines

All my lines still smell of you...

Marriage Proposal

He asked many times to get married. I teased, I joked, I let him dream at times. Deep inside I knew, my heart knew that I got married long time ago to someone else.
And the difference was the confession of my pace.

Transplant of My Heart

Transplant of my heart.
If it doesn't suit you, it surely will suit to some others.

All My Dreams

All my dreams are canned into a small bin and placed into a dusty closet, not be reopened.
All the dreams I had now turned into a dream; a dream to reach all my dreams...

Silver Skies

He never entered into a unique complete union with the universe under the silver skies...

Me and Myself At the Present

Once a joyful life now turned into a big question mark.
Once all the things I owned now a part of my history.
What I got today is nothing than melancholy, loneliness and alienation.
What I got today is the disappearance of my own existence.
The things that made me are missing now except my ever-lasting friendship.
I miss true friends,
I miss my happy days.
More than these, I miss my lost self.

Death and Life

It hurted me seeing my father calling death lying in his bed with enormous pain, while hearing next door new-born baby crying.
Death and Life.
No beginning or no end.
Existing at once, one in another.

Eyes

When everyone was staring at him, I looked at the viewers' pitiful eyes. I wanted to read what went through their minds, when my dad looked so innocent, so child-like.
I saw how serious, how dramatic the situation was only through their eyes.
It was the others' eyes that told me everything.
It was their mimics, every single facial muscle that trembled hesitantly.
The eyes of my father were rather hopeful, still rejecting his own end, afraid of death.

Cancer Doesn't Fit on My Father Well

Cancer. A word I've only "heard" before. A sickness I was acquainted with only in others' lives, if not in movies. Today, I know it so well as it happened to a part of me, to my father. Today, not only I know all about it, but I "live" it every passing day, seeing it taking him away from us so silently, so unjustly. Every passing day, I see how it destroys his body. Cancer cells doesn't only invade one's body but also the very core of your psyche; it doesn't only torture the body of the patient but inside of him, inside of everyone close by.

Cancer doesn't fit on my father well. I wish I had the power to change this. I wish I could give him the power to fight. Once a powerful strong man, now turned to a little, vulnerable child.

Small in the body, small in his hopes, sinking into darkness every day...away from night and day...

Me and My Father's Stomach

I was walking down the street with my father’s stomach in my bag. The cold wind was blowing over my face and my sleepy conscious was walking in a dream, or rather a nightmare, right on the street. It had been already a couple of days since I arrived to the city after 6 months of absence and this was the first time I was in the center. Me, a part of my father, and his stomach and his tumors, no longer part of him were on the same street, feeling the same storms in the water…

A Lisbon Story...

Date: February 5, 2005

Place: Baixa-Chiado Metro Station

First an acquinted face, then a friend and now turned to a best friend was leaving this melancholic city...In his slow steps he had sadness, he had joy, he had illusions, he had dissapointments, he had it all except one; he never had love. All he had was a Lisbon Story which kept him continue further away.

Now, taking his broken heart with him and leaving the Lisbon Story behind, he was going away with a waving hand in the air.

That's how he dissapeared from my life.

Just like others.

With one difference: I already miss you, Lennaert.