Sunday, March 28, 2021


France Portnawak

The phone call was short. The woman spoke fast. The construction or something... The hall is too small...
She spoke too fast. The construction was fine. He checked. The hall was fine too.
The phone call was short. She blabbered a few words. And she hung up. The construction she said, the hall...?
What does she know? She heard stories about this and that and she had the gall to think she could replace him, yes, the gall.
The other phone call was also short. "How much?" The man also replied fast.
No one would ever take his place. Ever.

Sunday, March 21, 2021

Behind a Bush


Just pretend that fog is wonderful.
Just pretend the trees are magnificent.
Pretend, just pretend the rays of sun are not burning the grass dry.
Part from your heart.
Part from your soul.
Someone will look for you.
Someone will shout for you.
Just pretend you're not sinking, pretend your whole life is not running through your head, a host of bizarre what ifs.
Just pretend you can still move your legs, pretend the thick mud is not pulling you down, dragging your dreams into the darkness.
There are no dreams. Only tragic nightmares. And the suffocating fog.

Sunday, March 14, 2021


Time Remains

Imagine being in hospital. You can't move. You can barely breathe.
No one believes you.
Imagine peering through the window and seeing the elegant bridge crossing the river all lit up, beautiful at night.
Imagine the little dots of light coming from the fishing boats, like fireflies.
Yes, imagine smiling and thinking I will die in a few minutes, but I'll die having the most gorgeous view.
Imagine they still don't believe you. And you still can't breathe.
But you're smiling. You're smiling because that tilted postcard window is your hope, your only hope, the hope that keeps you breathing.

Sunday, March 7, 2021

A toast!


“A toast! My kingdom for a toast!” The crowd at the café chuckled. They all knew him. They all loved his silly jokes. The room was always dark. That gave them a sense of protection and the silly, often crude, jokes made them feel like they belonged. One day he didn't show up. They looked for him everywhere. Weeks went by. Then they received a letter at the café. "I'm fine. I got a job digging up some ruins. The archaeologists are OK. But they lack one thing. They don't have toast!" The crowd at the café chuckled once again.