I like open books
Half burnt candles
Orange peels
Clothes on the floor
Un-sent postcards
Un-finished sentences
The blanks created in these spaces
The void full of meaning
Last time when it rained I was standing
watching the Mediterranean Sea change its colour
I distinctly remember how quickly it happened
From deep azure it went to light turquoise
There were none on Promenade des Anglais
Soaked in tender drops
The blue chairs were empty
They looked lonely
Drenched with memories of pouring rain
I went and had coffee
Looking at strange faces.
As I sit here now
Facing the window
Raindrops caressed by wind kiss my cheeks
Fallen leaves are swept away
Smell of the earth rises from the ground
Bringing back what I thought was a dead sin
And now my heart lingers
through an unknown desolate street
Searching for something lost
Not knowing what it is
In love with this solitude
The shadow cast on the wall
The book that’s lying on my bed
Vervain infused warm water
The white translucent curtain
Creases on the blanket
Vacant pillow
Indistinct chatter from outside
Memories spread on the wall
The quiet moving of life
My soul almost tangible
In this silence
I hear voices from the sea
The time when I sinked my head
Into the crashing waves
Trying not to get hit back to the shore
Finding balance to stay swinging and caressing each wave
The voice of the sea calling out my name
Repeating the same phrase over and over
I stay under water until I can’t breathe
The suffocation, the urge to take in air, to live
Enough of this
I emerge from beneath like a newly baptised child
The sailing boat like a tiny dot in the distance
Against the aquamarine blue waiting for me to swim towards it
Waiting to take me home
Does this loneliness have a name?
The smell on my bedsheets
Clothes look exactly like how I left them
Untouched…
Empty wastebasket
I open my cupboard and memories rise from their deathbed
The sky from here now has the face of melancholy
What do I do now
How do I fight these ghosts with a weary heart
I’m tired
My body aches
Let me sleep…
do you have days
when everything feels like a grey cloud
days when you can’t get out of your room
never open the blinds
one little peek outside
the bright light pierce your eyes
the clouds too white to stare at them for comfort
blissful evening turning into a dark night
when time becomes irrevocable
when people leave
or worse when they forget
I designed a photography book using Adobe Indesign that includes a few pictures from the trip I took to the South of France
