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Literature

In this page you can discover the three semi- finalists for the Literature discipline in the Yellow Area (Northen Europe) rated by the audience and a professional Jury, composed by experts and established artists.

Artistic proposals in the 16 disciplines of MArteLive Europe are evaluated by the audience and a professional jury, composed of experts and established artists.

The three winners of each discipline will fly to the semi-finals in Vilnius, Lithuania, will have the opportunity to participate in Art residencies and to join the final event in Rome, Italy, in December 2021.

Discover also selected artists in the online auditions but not admitted to the semi-finals. They are great talents too!

Semifinalist North Europe

Vilnius, Lithuania

I am Lina Buividavičiūtė. Born on May 14, 1986. I am a poet, literary scholar and literary critic.
 
Text in english version

Hospitals

In war – just like in war. In a hospital – just like in a hospital.
The lighter cases can stay in their
jeans and their trainers. So, I stayed. Everyone –
incomprehensible. Neighbours – barefoot.
The walls are not even white, they are painted a bright
pink colour, like xanax tablets –
maybe so that everything is uniform, so that everything
fits into the system, so that we’d live in a pink
bubble – shhh, shhh, everything will be alright, but it won’t be.
I used to spend days staring at the pinkness
Until the visitation of life, until the appearance of gods,
it was good, no one spread shit all over
the walls – there were no motes in our eyes nor
logs in our brother’s – only silence, only inside sometimes
someone shuddered with tiny wings, like
tiny embryos first felt in a mother’s womb –
but they died quickly, unable to survive the silence, the abstinence of existence,
we had nothing to feed them, we didn’t have light,
the walls didn’t help – not ours, still – not ours.
Starvation – here.
And we’re – Hunger Artists. And we’re – diagnoses.

 

Translated by Ada Valaitis

Text in original language

Ligoninės

Kare – kaip kare. Ligoninėj – kaip ligoninėj.

Lengvesniesiems galima likti su savo

džinsais ir savo kedais. Aš ir likau. O visų –

nesupaisysi. Kaimynai – basi.

Sienos visai nebaltos, išdažytos ryškiai

 rožine spalva, kaip ksanakso tabletės –

gal kad viskas būtų vienoda, kad viskas

būtų pagal sistemą, kad gyventume rausvam

burbule – ša, ša, viskas bus gerai, bet nebus.

Praleisdavau dienas, smoksodamas į tą ružavonę –

iki gyvenimo vizitacijos, iki dievų pasirodymo,

 gerai, šitam skyriuj nieks neterliojo išmatom

sienų – nebuvo krislų mūsų veizoluose anei

rąstų pas brolį – tik tylėjimas, tik viduj kartais

kas lyg sparneliais mažais sukrutėdavo, kaip

 maži embrionai pirmą kartą motinos įsčiose –

 bet nustipdavo greit, neatlaikę tylos, būties abstinencijos,

neturėjome kuo išmaitinti, neturėjom šviesos,

nepadėjo nė sienos – nesavos, vis tik – nesavos. 

Badas – čia. O mes – Bado meistrai. O mes – diagnozės.

Vilnius, Lithuania

I am Lithuanian poet, translator. I was born in Kaunas in 1993. Now I am living in Vilnius and studying intermediate literature studies at Vilnius University. My poetry has been published in the various literary journals and anthologies. My first book “Reivas” (Rave) was published in 2019 and received “Best Debut” prize from Lithuanian Ministry of Culture. My poems have been translated to English, Polish and Russian languages.

Text in english version

communism

 

your girl versus my girl
it’s a draw
your crocodile versus my crocodile
it’s a draw
your pineapple versus my pineapple
it’s a draw
your combine harvester versus my combine harvester
it’s a draw
your missing part of the text versus my the missing part
of the text
it’s draw
your text message versus my text message
it’s a draw
your damocles sword versus my damocles sword
it’s a draw
your star wars versus my star wars
it’s a draw
your euripides versus my euripides
it’s a draw
your minotaur versus my minotaur
it’s a draw
yours versus mine
it’s a draw
one takes the lead another catches up
nobody wins nobody loses
and vice versa
there is no way of knowing which one is whose
we have no way of knowing
how to share equally

translated by Anna Halberstadt

Text in original language

komunizmas

tavo mergaitė prieš mano mergaitę
lygiosios
tavo krokodilas prieš mano krokodilą
lygiosios
tavo ananasas prieš mano ananasą
lygiosios
tavo kombainas prieš mano kombainą
lygiosios
tavo trūksta teksto dalies prieš mano trūksta teksto dalies

lygiosios
tavo sms žinutė prieš mano sms žinutę
lygiosios
tavo damoklo kardas prieš mano damoklo kardą

lygiosios
tavo starwarsai prieš mano starwarsus
lygiosios
tavo euripidas prieš mano euripidą
lygiosios
tavo minotauras prieš mano minotaurą
lygiosios
tavo prieš mano

lygiosios
ir čia vyksta amžinosios lygiosios
tai tas tai anas
rezultatą persveria tai tas tai anas jį
išlygina
nes tavo yra mano ir mano yra tavo
čia niekas
nelaimi niekas nepralaimi mes nežinom
kuris yra kieno mes nežinom
kaip dalintis po lygiai

Aranha

Vilnius, Lithuania

I was born in Vilnius, in 1990. From an early age I enjoyed reading and sports. First attempts at creative writing happened when I was around 16 years old. Writing to me is a mysterious, inscrutable, almost magical act, impervious to my will. It seems to me that verses, images, words come on their own and I have to write them down. I wrote poetry mostly, sometimes prose. The topic is determined by the environment, what is going on around me and within me, people I meet, places I visit and so on.

Text in english version

Sketches

She entered the restaurant looking graceful and elegant. Blond, long, silky hair, bright eyes, warm and encouraging smile. People imediatelly noticed the beautiful woman. She seemed to be open, friendly, witty and that made pretty much everyone like her.

– Hello, my friend is waiting for me,- she told the headwaiter. – I am a little late, sorry for that.

– No problem. Right this way, miss. – he replied politely.

He showed her to the table where a man was already sitting, waiting and smiling.

She was wearing a colourful, patterned topcoat and a tight t-shirt, dark pants and comfortable, bright shoes. She dressed like a twenty-one year old girl but her body looked like thirty year old woman. The truth was somewhere in between.

– Hello, dear! Hope you’re not waiting long. – a little blush in her cheeks gave away her excitement.

– Not at all. Was just looking at the menu. How was your day ? – asked the young man.

– It’s good, was preparing for the show all morning, then went for a walk and lunch, came back home and played some records and now I’m here. What about yours ? – she asked with a genuine interest in her friend.

– You know, ups and downs… I‘m having some problems at work but it will be fine. Any weekend plans ? – he inquired.

– I am playing on Friday at the Chill Bar, you should come! – she invited him with a laugh.

– Maybe I will. – he smiled back.

As she was talking her hands were moving a lot. It seemed almost that she said more with her hands and facial expressions than with words. People who knew her agreed that she was the typical extravert type – loud, always communicating with people, open-minded, friendly, funny. Someone might think to themselves that she is hiding something, that a person can‘t always be happy, talking, laughing. Of course, everyone has problems in life but some people talk about them and others keep that to themselves. At the time, she did not have many. Therefore, she was trying to be as positive and happy as she could.

She has been working as a DJ for five and a half years. She loved it. Music was one of the best ways to express herself, to connect with people, to spread joy and positive vibrations. And the money was pretty good too although it was not her motivation. A lot of people in her city who go to parties knew her and liked the way she did her thing. She was known for not being afraid to mix and explore weird, quirky, new sounds. And her warm, encouraging smile.

 

 

Waiting can be very painful. There were eleven people in line before Jake. He could not stay still in one place, he was shifting his weight from one leg to another, palms sweating, scratching his head and breathing nervously. Time seemed to slow down almost to nothing. It was the most important letter in his life that Jake was waiting for.

But let me take you a little back in time. You see, Jake is a good hearted, honest, friendly, sometimes too deep in his head, passionate young man. He rents a room in a cozy flat near the center of Manchester. He is studying English language and philosophy. Jake enjoys reading various stories and analyzing, interpreting and changing them in his mind.

Some time ago he met a very nice girl named Ruth at the university. It was a fundraising event for children in need. He was volunteering there and she was participating to do something good. Jake wondered “Why haven’t I seen this girl before? I am sure I would remember such a beautiful young woman.” Later he asked her that and she told him that she was an exchange student who had just arrived at the university one week ago.”Aaah, there you go!” thought Jake. They clicked instantly. Jake liked Ruth and did not hide that. She liked him and admitted to that without playing hard to get. So they started seeing each other and after one month of dates and excitement became a couple.

Only five people left in front of him. Jake was waiting for a letter from Ruth. They were together for almost half a year when Ruth had to go home to London. The one semester ended and she had to go back. Jake insisted that she would stay longer but Ruth told him she missed her family and friends. “If we are meant to be together, we will be” she said to him on the day of her departure. “You know I love you. I don’t want be without you. Nothing really makes sense if I am not with you” he replied. “Just have a little faith. I will write a letter and tell you my decision, if I stay home or move here to live with you. Wait one week” Ruth promised him. Jake did not have any options but to wait for the letter.

And just like that it was his turn. He took it, opened the envelope, went outside of the post office and started to read:

“My dear Jake,

….”

His face turned white. Suddenly it became very quiet outside. He did not know what to do next.

 

 

The Funkadelic soundtrack puts this image in my head: a man is driving a car in the middle of the night through Nevada (or any other) desert. He is alone in the car and definitely smoking a cigarette or a cigar. He is around forty years old and it is unclear where is he going. Perhaps on some kind of a mission, maybe to meet a woman in some seedy motel, maybe to drop off something he shouldn’t have in the desert, maybe he is running from someone or something. Or maybe for no reason at all.

I imagine the car to be an old mustang, black paint, powerful engine, worn out tires. The man would be going just under the speed limit so as not to be stopped by the police (if somehow at such a place and hour there would be any). The straight road seems to continue forever. The weather outside is chilly. The desert is beautiful in its raw and untouched scenery. It also looks desolate because there is very little flora. An occasional coyote would run along looking for prey or a lizard would crawl into the cracks of a cliff. Some cacti would be standing like scarecrows.

The sky would be clear and bright. Full moon together with millions of stars provide plenty of light for the man to see the road. Not a single cloud to cover the light coming from space. But if we looked closer interesting details might be spotted. For example, the front window has a sizeable crack. The side of the car is dirty in a strange way with spots of what looks like a red liquid. There is a leather bag on the back seat of the car. While the man is driving he looks to the mirrors and behind his shoulder nervously as if to check if anyone is following him.

The guitar riffs make me think about the man’s present situation and his future. For some reason I imagine that he got himself in trouble and now is trying to figure it out while driving through the desert. He might have done something bad. But not necessarily. The scene looks dramatic, important, maybe even life changing. Something will change after he reaches his destination. Wherever that may be.

 

 

Short story

Randonmess

 

       It is hard to believe the power of words. Even a single word. Randomness, for example. If you asked Mr. Eko, he didn‘t believe in the concept of coincidence. Thousands blame it every day for their failures, saying things like: “I had bad luck that day“. People convince themselves that it is not their fault, that some mystical force of universe made things happen the way they did. It is partially true and partially bullshit. He used to say „Everything happens for a reason“. 

      It was a Saturday morning in the autumn. Mr. Eko was walking to his office which was two rooms in an old building downtown, the fifth floor. The main space where all the important stuff was being kept, was a cluttered, quite poorly lit but cozy cabinet/room. Huge wooden table seemed to be most valuable object inside. The rest was pretty much casual office environment. That‘s the thing with private detectives – they can‘t afford much luxuries.

    This particular case was troubling Mr. Eko for two weeks already. If trouble is following you all the time– he believed – you deserve that. The case seemed to be a dead-end. The client – middle-aged woman – came and asked to investigate the homicide of her beloved husband. She payed in cash up-front. Mr. Eko didn‘t know the victim personally but had read several articles about him in newspapers. The man was a successful businessman, Mr. Black  owned a construction company which was known internationally. The company had a reputation for being organized, straightforward and environmentally-friendly. You could probably say that it was an exception in today‘s world where economic relations are unfair, a lot of important decisions are made by corrupted politicians, judges and entrepreneurs and other important people. Allen Black, the founder and owner of the company, was found dead on one of his construction sites. He had fallen off from the twenty first floor of the building. The public was shocked. The media took care of that.

    Mr. Eko was sitting in his chair staring at the ceiling and remembered part of the conversation he had with the widow:

  • Black, have you noticed any strange behaviour of your husband prior to the incident? Did he have any recent disagreements or quarrels with someone?
  • Well… Not really. I saw that he was a little more stressed than usual but he had a big project on his mind so I wasn’t worried too much. – she answered.
  • I see, – said the detective. – I can start my research with what you gave me. We will keep in touch.

     And that was it. Mr. Eko had his own tricks, relations and tactics but this time nothing worked. He checked Mr. Black’s biggest clients (backgrounds, commitments, activities), competitors of construction business, few public disputes with political groups. It didn’t lead anywhere. Eko could not find any reasonable explanations or motives for someone to kill him. Why was this thought to be a murder then? Could this be a random accident?

 

 

 

Eko was driving home from his office. He was reviewing known facts about the current case in his head. “The victim – a successful, rich, well-known man. Hundreds of people may have had motives to end him, his money and influence being primary reasons. So far no one in particular stood out. Mr. Black and his wife Jane did not have children – so that leaves out the possibility of a crazy offspring killing their father for the inheritance money and making it look like an accident. The clients I already looked into did not reveal anything out of the ordinary. The dispute with the conservative democratic party regarding construction permits in financial district did become intense but it was resolved few years ago”. The bizarre circumstances, lack of details about the death and natural curiosity that Mr. Eko possessed caused this story to be stuck in detective’s mind. Thoughts were going in circles. He was obsessed with it.

The official report from the chief of police was released in a press conference on the 13th of October, one month after the accident. Of course, Eko was there to hear it. As expected, it was utterly useless. Besides stating the obvious (important man, very few details, huge loss and tragedy) the police wasn’t able to solve the case. Eko knew that after few more days or weeks the noise would settle down, the attention of the public would be directed somewhere else and it will be up to him to continue the work and solve the crime.

The detective was approached by the widow on September 16th, three days after Black was found dead. So that leaves three whole days that Eko could not account for. A lot can happen in three days. Especially after a murder that looks like an accident or an accident that looks like a murder.

Meanwhile, the morale in Black’s home was down. Jane was left alone in a big house. Usually the sound of jazz, funk or rock music filled the living room, bed room or the kitchen where they spent most of their time. It was a happy household. A lot of people came over to pay respects, support Jane, offer their help and assistance. The widow was grateful but it could not possibly quell the pain. Poor woman looked morbidly grey, eyes red from crying, face tired with new wrinkles in her forehead. Jane and Allen got married very young and they were together for 23 years. They loved each other very much and everyone knew that.

“Those three days are crucial. The chances to find something useful are the biggest in the first 48 hours. I am already at a disadvantage. I must recreate Black’s final hours. What was he doing on that floor? Who was he with?”.

It was Friday morning and Eko was going through old articles about Mr. Black in the papers, comments from teachers in his school and university, friends testimonies – everyone said the same about him: very smart, responsible, incredibly hard working, friendly man. Detective was looking for any kind of clue – old argument, a fight with someone, anything like that. But it simply wasn’t there.

  • Hey Eko, maybe you should look into his work relationships, – suggested Tom. Tom was Eko’s friend and occasional assistant.
  • You think I haven’t already done that? That’s the first thing I looked into. – he answered slightly annoyed.
  • Yeah, I know. But still, maybe you missed something. Maybe we can dig deeper, don’t you think?
  • Hmm, maybe…
  • Did you hear that his recent projects were unprofitable and he lost a lot of money? I believe those constructions of big bank buildings especially hurt him.
  • Yes, – Eko agreed with a thoughtful expression. – and the building where he fell from was also construction of bank headquarters.

Tom was glad that he might have helped. They were friends for quite a long time and several times he contributed to solving a case. So Eko sometimes asked for his help.

“Could it be possible that everything I know about this case is not true? How can I move on from this dead end? The client is high profile and I can’t allow it to disappear”.

Detective was able to find out that Allen Black always used to come to the construction sites. It wasn’t unusual. He often came to talk with the clients and even workers. He genuinely liked it.  His last time on a construction site was fatal.

What nobody else knew explains everything. In fact, Allen Black was deeply in debt with the creditors from several projects. He owed a lot of money which even his wife did not know about. His deadlines were approaching and he couldn’t possibly pay back. Another thing was that Allen found out from his last health check up that he had a malignant tumor in his lungs. He didn’t even smoke. A cruel and random tumor. Allen was only 46 years old. He couldn’t process that.

On September 13th at eleven o’clock in the evening Allen went to the construction site of the bank headquarters. It was a tall building with many floors. He got up to the 21st floor. He stepped over the wooden rail. Wind was blowing in his face. “This is it. No one can help me. There is only one way out. I’m sorry, Jane”. Those were his last thoughts before he jumped.

Mr. Eko never found out.

 

Other Selected artists

Vaiva Grabauskaitė

Panevėžys, Lithuania

I am a 21-year-old university student from Lithuania. I have been writing for maybe half of my life, but more seriously I have been writing for about 6 years. I write all sorts of literature pieces – poetry, short stories, or anything else that comes to my mind. I share my creations with my closest friends or upload it on the internet website called Wattpad. Biggest sources of inspiration for me are videos (e.g., music videos, animal or nature videos) and music, because the best inspiration and motivation comes from one creator to another!
Text in english version

Translation of Lithuanian poems

The 13th dream of January (Original – 13-asis sausio sapnas)

Snowflakes are slowly falling
On the icy pavement.
Hearts are beating fastly,
With bodies protecting their homeland.

People falling under the tanks.
Bullets are piercing their hopes,
But it stays unbreakable.
They are not afraid to die for freedom.

It’s not coming back (Original – negrįžta)

Why does everything sound lame,
Distorted and so fake?
Why did words became meaningless,
Together with sentences and lines?

And where did melody go,
The one sung every day?
That warm feeling full of joy
Melted, isn’t coming back.

Poetry in English and Lithuanian languages by Vaiva Grabauskaitė

Night and Day

I think I became a slave
Of those dark dark thoughts,
Can’t tell anymore if this is okay
Or a pleasure of pain perceived as a phase.

Once a week they visit late
It became a thing.
Dancing with demons, they can’t stay away
Running and hiding, pretending in many ways.

Sleep is not real anymore,
How long has it been?

Confused, how do I behave,
Why is it like that?
Cannot understand, can’t find the answer
Is it because I’m a child or darkness is too deep inside?

Blooming fear, many regrets,
I cannot be brave.
In dreary room waiting for a new chapter
I try to breathe but can’t tell if I am still alive.

Inspired by ‘’Coco’’

The day when we’ll turn into dust
When no one says hello to us,
Memories, that’s all that left
Will be, the being, meaning of our lives.

Warmest hug and brightest smile
A word or two, a song,
No matter what we’ll leave behind
As long as we in mind.

I promise to remember you,
Just please do same for me.
Do not forget, it can be hard,
But try your best, my dear.

Let’s try our best to stay in here
For as long as we can bare,
Let’s build a lot of memories right now
So that we could live forever.

Text in original language

13-asis sausio sapnas

Iš lėto krenta snaigės,
Leidžias ant grindinio šalto.
Smarkiai daužosi širdys,
Kūnais tėvynę saugo.

Krenta žmonės po tankais.
Sminga kulkos į viltį,
Tačiau jos palaužti negali.
Jie nebijo už laisvę numirti.

negrįžta

Kodėl viskas skamba nuvalkiotai,
Iškraipytai, dirbtinai?
Kodėl beprasmiai tapo žodžiai,
Eilutės, sakiniai?

Ir kur pradingo ta melodija,
Kadais dainuojama kasdien?
Tas šiltas jausmas pilnas džiaugsmo
Ištirpo, negrįžta taip ilgai.

 

Magerta

Riga, Latvia

I’am a writer.

Text in english version

Author: Magerta Paužaitė

 

The short story “Off face: the man without eyes”

I cannot count the candles. There were too many of them. I have paid for the first ones. Later, I took them for free.

The first time I prayed not to like you. I felt the risk. The trouble was I thought I have the love of my life.

Nothing lasts forever. So there will not be any pain.

The first time ever I saw your face you have already seen me. I was blinded by the lights but went in confidence. I am the master of starting all over again.

You pronounce words in a wrong way! The first thing I have noticed. The first seconds were not on your side.

Then we walked my region. My streets, my ghettos, my churches, my town.

I am the pretender. Always the pretender. The funny one. You were too calm. So calm. No worries. This was strange.

I was not scared with you, but you walked me in a strange direction. Suddenly, you opened the car. Like them. This was a sign. This was a sign. The red flag.

I liked your music. Your songs. You played me your songs. You sang. Am I right? There was a song about the eyes?

I said I liked your eyes. The first compliment to you was about your eyes. The eagle eyes.

I had the eagle. I prayed to God you will not replace my eagle. I got used to him.

I have the eagle and you have the eagle’s eyes. It was all about the form. Like the almond. Big eyes. Almond eyes. The eagle’s eyes.

You played the most beautiful song about the wind. And I have started to repeat it.

I could not sleep that night. I could not barely sleep. You have asked me about my sleep, and I lied. I could not sleep because my prayers were not listened. I liked you. Too much. And I was scared. I did not expect this. I did not though there might be a man who can replace my eagle.

You said you stopped to believe in God. I wanted to give your faith back to you. You have already given me a faith I could feel again.

I was dancing and singing about your wind. The wind. Be loyal when I am not here.

You were late and I was in the lower depths. In my lower depths. It was cold and I was dreaming about the previous summer. About my eagle, about love of my life in front of my window. This yard. The death. The silence. And you were late.

Later I thought, or hoped you wrote about me from this evening. The French perfume that you recognized, my Asian outfit that I thought you wrote about. I thought you wrote, but now my chest is burning. Did I destroy everything? Is this my fault?

You were late and I was angry.  Do you remember that I had a game for us? The game for the second time.

And now I hate that perfume. Because you knew the name.

I will go to play alone. I will go in the streets, in my streets and I will play alone. Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it the loneliness? I will find my paper boys. You always said you felt like a Jewish among Germans. And you want to be Adolf for just a one day. I want to be Armstrong. To walk the Moon. My paper boys are Jews. You are a different paper boy. The money boy.

Do you remember it was the first time I told you about the space? What if you listened to the music and wanted to close it? Cause now I want to close it. I want to close the space. I do not want to travel the universe, the planets and to stop the Earth. Me and my eagle have already traveled the universe, the space. We live on Mars. I do not want to fly up in the sky as an eagle. I do not want to leave or live?

And the mind games have just begun. The runner and the chaser. You are not a good kisser. You do not share the emotions. The snow. Was it the first one? I do not think so. Car games. Riders and slaves. Snowman. The tree. You took the picture. Just the ordinary one. Boy, compliments not always are the right ones. My perfect shoes.

Before this, you were on my way. Twice. And I was wondering, did Mr. God told us to go in front of each other? I saw you twice. The lesson was not learned.

Too many hours… For me it was too many. I do not want to share the whole day. Too many hours.

Bum, walking time. I did not enjoy it at all. I felt too good for you. Later. You were late, paper boy. It was cold. And I wanted to say goodbye. They all knew. Girls got the calls – this is not a good match. I need a better catch.

Bum, last chance. I was lazy. Lazy – this meant something was wrong.

You were not a classy guy. Not my style. But I felt a good intention. To hurt you not. Lonely boy. I wanted to hug you. Share the love. I wanted not to hurt you.

Your mom. What a family portrait! Are you a daddy’s boy? Or mom’s? Are you a boy?

This was a key moment. I fall. I have said I will do my best not to hurt you.

And the love game started. More and more and more.

Catch me if you can. I do not want to catch you. The eagle was back. You felt it. A risk was on the plate. But you were searching for the plane.

I made a mistake. I did not have to call him. This was my punishment. But I had to do this. I thought I was thinking just about the friendship. But I started to question the marriage. There was a possibility I will run out of the ale. I had to check.

The silence, your songs, and my dates with the eagle. My eagle was my priority. I called you after him. If he ignores the snow, I will show it for you. The chair. It was not for you. He had to sit on it. I had to sit on him.

You were near. Your lies were not bullets. I had to be calm. You helped me to survive the magic. My magic with the eagle. He is the one.

Winter walk, the boring talk. The pictures you take, the attitude I make. You were just somebody. Liar. And I let you in.

I did not want the breakfast. I did not want to sit at your table. The food was not tasty. I had a date on that date. You were not the only one. It was a trap. I lost that guy. He was a good one.

Once again, the walk through my streets. Eagle’s apartments. He has so many! I hoped he will not see us. You pictured his yard. It was boring, I did not want to walk through the cold. I remembered my outfits. I was tired. I need to change the direction of this game.

You have asked me in. I said I was scared and went in the streets. No. I called him. I wanted to meet him. Wanted my eagle to stop me. I went into ours place. Secret and magical place. I was waiting, I was crying, I wrote a poem. The eagle did not come. He left me all alone and I was so sad. So sad, angry, frustrated and broken. I was sad!

I make love with the ones I do not care if I am sad and angry. I came to your place. So confident, happy, and rich. I was high. I was not thinking straight. I was high!

Your sex was bad because you do not share the emotions. I felt boring so quickly. So quickly! You made few mistakes and I got back on Earth. I wish I could repeat my journey to be high! I said you was great. I lied. You need to share the emotions to be great. There were many lies between us. I think you did not notice.

And he called. The eagle was back. And I was lost. I promised to meet him for the sex game. And it was not good. I could not make love with both of you. He is my number one. My forever number one. And I was scared.

You asked me one more time. Did not want high heels. I said it was a red day. I lied. I did not want to have sex with you. He called too many times, you were near, I could not talk. I asked you hard questions. I realized you can fool me. I do not know you at all.

I prepared to go to him. I was ready. He canceled. And this was a life changing moment.

I started to be hard on you. You were in the corner and I asked silly questions, I was a psycho, I wanted too scary you. And you were scared. It was the end. You were scared and I was lying. I was pretending, acting and you were scared.

But the truth was I wanted you to choose me. I would be choosing you. You did not choose me.

I was alone in front of my eagle. He booked your hotel. This time I canceled. It was your hotel! I had to decide. I did not choose him. He was angry, but I did not choose him. He was so angry… I have chosen you after you rejected me. I thought he will never let me in. In his genius world.

I was praying. I was crying. I was with my Mary and the eagle came. He lost his way; he turned his walk and found me. We both were the sad ones. We came to your hotel. Just to be near the lobby and check the crown. The crown I put on him during the summer.

I was trying to fix the situation. You promised to meet me. I was waiting. You came for a second and I saw it in your eyes – you were leaving me. I wanted to cry. At that moment when I realized you leave me – I wanted to cry. You saw this. You saw my tears in my eyes. You left me. Said we will meet. You lied. And you were gone.

I was waiting. Day and night. Month after the month. I was waiting for you to come back.

You were in my dream. The first time. I knew something is wrong. You were in danger.

Warm and sunny day. Your small and fat Russian was playing with the kid. The kid was riding a bike. Laughing.

The moment I saw you I wanted to hug you. We were kissing. I was kissing you, but your face. It was half-headed face. You had lips, nose. We were kissing. But you did not have eyes. You did not have half of your head. You were cut. My baby! Where were your eyes?

I woke up in a scary mood. I prayed for you. I went to light the candle. I send you the good energy. Wanted to rescue your soul. You were in danger. Were you?

I started to think about you so much. Every day you were on my mind. I saw your pictures; I knew you are in our town. I felt you. You did not search for me. You were near.

My second dream came.

The stranger roads. The autumn, sunny day.

I see you are wearing the camel coat and a grey cap with a scarf. You are waiting for the meeting and I am pretending I have not seen you.

I am in the theatre. His premier. It is ending. Too many people.

I want to run out. I am avoiding his eyes. Too many people.

I am crossing the space few times. I am scared he will see me.

I am out.

We have met. There is a warm hug. We talk. We both are vulnerable. We do not afraid. It seems it was ours fault. We both have been hurt. 3 times. You have mentioned you wanted to be invited for the tea 3 times.

I wake up with the feeling that I have hurt you. Sorry. I am so sorry.

I could not think no more, I had to cut my soul for the last time.

We talked. You are a little bit angry. Out of me. You have never missed me. You have forgotten.

Another dream. My father was crying. I do not remember seeing my father in tears. It was not a beautiful dream. My mom was sitting alone by the table in front of the exit doors, eating by herself. My father wanted to sit and eat dinner in the kitchen with my friends and I asked him to go away. This made him cry. Because I rejected the most important man in my life, I have hurt him. I felt so bad. I was so sorry, asked him for the forgiveness.

The next morning I was not okay. I have asked myself about these signs. The meaning was I need to let the emotions go. I need to be vulnerable. To talk my feelings. The father called, we talked. But I was sad. I realized the father’s figure represents my psychological condition and thoughts. I must let you know that it is okay to be back if you want to. And I did it in a way I knew. You did not want me back. And it was okay. Because now I know, I can let you go and move forward. It was your choice to be lower than the world. It was your choice to change the worlds.

I went outside. In the night. In the streets as always.

I saw the eagle. Walking with his walk. I pretended our crash was by accident. Like I had not planned to go downstairs. Bum! He thinks it was a miracle.

No, it was not.

And there is another guy. The best. He has just asked me the most important question. After the answer, another day I thought it was not truth.

But after the “miracle” talking I knew it was. I am not going to come back to love the eagle again.

I saw your car! The worst car I have ever been in. With your gloves. I knew you was so close. I could almost touch you. Go in and say that “hello”. Smoke the cigar. You were there.

4.20 was my Mary’s sign. I reached out. You have deleted the heart. You were so cold. Polite and cold. Said it was not your car. What a lie! What a stupid lie!

I was ignoring this; I was trying to get into you. You rejected me. We cannot communicate intellectually when we are not together.  You are in the other world. Other things and businesses and you are not into intellectual talks. You have said I will understand you. And thanked me for this.

Oh no! I always wanted to find out have you ever wrote about me.

Seems you did not.

We have decided to keep good memories and said those goodbyes. The light and the love were my gifts to you. It was worthy to meet you in my life.

You wished me all the best over the full measure. Thanks. I have already had it.

I have lost my appetite.

You have said we are not going to meet each other by accident. You are about to leave the country.

Hah! Here the witch came.

We have met. You pretended not to see me. Blue eyes. I saw your blue eyes. You investigated the horizon. He was with you. The dealer. You pretended not to see me. Why did you do that?

What did you feel after?

I was shocked. You were a boy. You were playing with the snow.

I am not looser. I walked my pride and the next day you saw me again. There was no way to avoid the “Hi”. This was ours last goodbye word.

I still hope you are happy. You will be. Get that money. Find out it was never something you was looking for. I will get my millions.

I reviewed your photos for the last time. Finally I noticed it was something wrong about your head. I knew there is an iron inside because of your fight. But this time I realized: you have a half face. You do not have eyes. In the photos they were blue, they were brown. I do not know about your eyes! You are a half-headed man.

Once you have said we do not have the soul.

Eyes lead us to the soul.

You do not have the eyes. Yes, you do not have the soul. For the others. You are hiding this. You do not share your emotions. You do not feel your soul.

I wish you will find your eyes. I wish you will find your soul. This is your way to be rich. Look into your soul to find the gold.

I got off my face because of you. I fall into a man without eyes. With a lost soul. And it was my fault.

What is the color of your eyes?

God sent me to heal you.

Enjoy that loss.


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