Ivory and ebony, rock crystal and brocade,
Her life is sweet and lovely like Dundee marmalade,
Her life is bright and sparkling, a magic fairy tale…
I met her eyes. I saw her truth. A caged nightingale.

© All rights reserved 2014


I like thinking underwater… and in the darkness. The most splendid thoughts visit my head in the bathroom at nights. It’s impossible to imagine an infinite quantity of the great ideas that I had during my nine months bathing in warm amniotic fluid.

But my long hard way through the birth canal… my primeval shock when I met with the external world for the first time… It erased this layer of my memory. Completely.

I know that now I can spend all my life attempting to recall… in miserable and unavailing efforts to turn diamond dust into diamonds.

But I have a whole life for it… and I will.

© All rights reserved 2014

I was born

At that time I was a real philosopher…

I was levitating in the centre of my celestial sphere and was meditating head over heels. My reflections were stitching space like golden threads and were forming subtle intricate patterns. Nothing could disturb my thinking. Only stray stars with majestic manes were drifting by my windows and were illumining walls with a multitude of bright motes…

I was happy. I was absolutely and unconditionally happy. But my happiness was brief. Time had tugged me. I had stabbed space. I was born. I was crying powerlessly. I knew that it is a deception. I knew that it will kill all my recollections about my late happiness. It will turn all my beloved recollections into ruins. I was crying…

© All rights reserved 2014