oh socrates, socrates...

i don't want flashy words, beautiful sounds, or carefully buildt sentences. i no longer feel able to write.

i guess for the moment i can just beg and ask for thousands of slow motion conversations, patiently waiting lips, friendly listeners, and some courage to start believing my thoughts as they are- awfully and beutifully (though not yet for my eyes) simple and sincere.

in the meantime, tons of books fill up my bag and my head with millions of amorphous ideas, several songs sound within and i sing them without knowing very well what they talk about, i crave for knowledge, poetry and love... and look for the way to travel again to the clear surface of a humanly written piece of me.