Its been ages since i last wrote to you ...
Loads of things have changed.
Now the dawns are purple
and all the pink clouds turn into acid rain,
now the days just pass
and the nights seem endless,
the sky is always grey despite the sun.
I found a shelter though!
Α real one this time..
-not flying beds in dream scenes-
a magical place, near the sea
with Victorian houses on the hill,
a small casino and a fun fair!
Α place i call ''Sunday'',
where you can feel the scent of an era very much forgotten.
Every time i feel this awful something nothing, i go there with a friend...
We love to stay in the small cafe and eat ice-cream in winter days.
Sometimes we walk around the neighborhood
and imagine we own the small flat in the corner of the street...
It's nice.
Nothing else.
Nothing special.
Only beautiful sceneries that make the everyday life a bit brighter.
Gothic churches and big trees the road to university
and kind smiley faces there to warm your soul with a ''hello''.
Now i'm flirting with Hobbes again , with Kant , Rousseau and Schmidt
and i keep asking myself of what is right and what is wrong,
what's ethical and if there is a universally accepted moral value...
I try to tell them that democracy does not exist, is an illusion like Kain's ideas.
It's like liberty with all these cameras watching you ...
but i can't .
You see, the freedom of choice is always limited and always related to power
and for the time being i'm powerless to speak my mind,
abiding by their norms, my voice's craving to be heard.
Oh! my dear diary,
now the dawns are purple,
the nights are endless thoughts
and the only thing missing once again..
is feeling loved .
is feeling loved .
