Smell

I used to walk the same path
over and over
to get to the same places
or different ones
but the path was always the same.
Same concrete, same buildings, same colours.
There used to be a huge sculpture on that path.
Before moving back to by seaside we would always pass by there

a needle, a fountain,
where there carps?
Years later I went back there, to walk and cycle and cross that same path
over and over again.
The sculpture was still there, nobody came to pick up that needle.
The carps where not and I asked myself if they ever were.
It was just a sculpture
it was still that same path
all over again

That morning I woke up like I had something to do
or something that I wanted to do
I went downstairs to get my coffee, I didn't use to drink coffee back then
when I walked in that smell hit me
it was all of that, all over again.
It felt easy, something woody, something warm and cold at the same time.
Taken out of it's original place, somebody had gone trough my file cabinet full of scents up in my head and distilled that one right then and there in the middle of that busy coffee shop.
I don't actually remember when I started drinking coffee I still don't know if I started to this day
but I know that I had some coffee that morning.

They say time is a matter of perspective, all of my memories already exist then.
For me the weird thing is space, places
I was already here and it was beautiful, I remember the sun and the people and the canals.

That morning I went to the market, right near the canals, I didnt need anything but still bought a lamp.
It was just a lamp, I'm still not sure if I liked it.
The point is that I already went there many times even if that was my first time.

Somebody gifted me a candle, I already knew it's scent
all of my memories già esistono
I know this but that smell will never leave my mind.

Yellow

I tapped my card and nothing seems to happen
the train kept on moving,
the conductor looks at me like he has places to be
but so have I.

In the end it leaves without me
I tell myself that it's okay
I'll wait for the next one
if it was okay I wouldn't be waiting here.
It's always too cold or too hot or
too early or
too late here.

Maybe it was okay, the next one came
picked me up
took me to where I needed to go
but I still forgot what stop was mine.
Yellow plastic seats,
it feels like even the music I'm listening to is yellow,
somehow I don't mind it, orange has always been my favorite color anyway.

It's always too noisy or too quiet
but if I stop the noises from my headphones for a second
this time
could be just right.

Was it?

What is this?

Big yellow moon / Half white moon

Scratching my brain

Electronic sounds from the music I listen too
too loud in my earphones
really cold or really hot showers
can I choose to feel my body?
The noise from too many people talking
all at once
too loud or too quiet even
the satisfaction and comfort of seeing good art.
Can this be my job?
I can't get enough of standing in the cold, there's something there
something that I always want to wait some more for.
As my knuckles dry up then brake down full of cuts
the chain on my bike is so loud in the quiet of the night.
Please don't hit me
the intersection is empty but it fills with cars running my way as I go through it
I wonder how my plants are right now

⣿⣿⣿⢱⡶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡷⠾⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡌⡆⣾⣿⣎⢿⣿⣿⡷⣹⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣟⡁⠹⣿⣡⣾⣿⠟⣑⢛⢿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣆⡙⢿⣿⣏⣾⢿⡏⢾
⣿⣿⣿⡫⣡⣤⣉⠠⠙⠿⣿⣿⣤⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣳⠛⢋⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⢏⢞⣻
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣆⢻⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⡻⣦⡿⡈⡾
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣮⣿⣿⣵⠇⡏
⣿⣿⣿⢫⣾⣟⣨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢒⣻
⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣿⣍⠻⠿⠿⡛⢁⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣝⣿⣿⡟⠋⠠⣲⣿⣿
⣯⣻⣻⣛⡯⢝⠿⢃⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡿⣫⠞⠡⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣫⡞⣡⣾⢱⣿⣫⣭⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢱⡏⣼⣿⣿⢨⣻⣾⠿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣾⡿⣼⣿⣜⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠚⣿⣎
⣿⣿⢽⡘⢿⣯⡳⠿⣿⣿⡿⢟⡟⡿
⣿⣿⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⡯⣖⠰⠴⢇⣨⣵
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⢹⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣛⣫⣾⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣚⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿

Do You think
that the web
could be Art?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠤⠶⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣀⠀⢀⡤⢈⣡⡴⠶⠶⠶⣤⣄⠀⢤⡀⢀⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⡏⣸⠋⣰⠏⣰⠟⢡⡴⠖⠚⠶⣤⡉⢷⡀⢳⡈⢷⡌⡿⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⡟⢰⡏⣰⠏⣰⠞⠛⢢⠈⣧⠘⡇⠈⡇⠸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⢺⡇⢺⡄⢿⡀⠢⠜⣠⡏⢠⡏⠸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡈⢳⣌⡙⠳⠟⢋⣴⠏⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣌⠻⢦⣌⣙⡛⠛⣉⣡⡴⠋⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣤⡙⠷⣦⠌⠉⠙⠋⢉⣡⣴⠾⣋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡌⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠚⠋⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The cold showers ended

maybe I could've enjoyed them, it doesnt matter now.
Sounds, I always talk and think and fill my head with sounds
sometimes I think that blindness could be way better than being deaf.
My mind really cannot comprehend a life without sound.

It's a new year

We didn't go to the market

that saturday we stayed at your place
rolling in bed all day, looking at mediocre television
then I got up and worked and worked and worked.
I had no idea if what I was doing was actually useful or just a pretentious way to
at the end of the day
produce what is called generally "self expression"
I did not care for that possibility at the time.
if that was not art it was not my issue, I was working
we both were working for what we felt was, ultimately, Art.

We did not go to the market
we did not buy groceries
we felt that our fridges and our pantries were full enough
it was a lovely time, it was a stressful time or maybe we were just being ourselves.
I could not stop wanting to feed that momentum that started a few months back within me
you wanted a career so bad.

For a while everybody thought I stopped smoking, even I believed it was true.
sometimes the ideas are all around us, we just got to bring them in the tangible reality
I truly felt that that was what we were doing.

No, that saturday we did not go to the market neither we bought any food
did we have more important stuff to do? Maybe.
Maybe we were just avoiding the cold
Looking at the world through a screen, having ideas for what you will do, plan that future
or just saving ourselves from being chilly
does it make any difference?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡧⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⡀⣷⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠠⣀⢼⣄⡂⣿⢸⢰⠄⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⢀⣺⢋⣠⣌⢋⣭⡍⢻⡂⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠰⣶⠷⠶⠶⠶⠆⣰⣾⠸⣿⣷⣿⢿⡿⢸⣿⠿⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⢞⢢⡑⢑⣝⡟⢁⡾⡫⢌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠈⠀⠀⡀⠊⣱⢌⠋⢴⡍⠽⠢⠀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⡐⠁⠼⣿⠃⠐⠄⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠌⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

What?

What happens if I stop remembering I do have a body?
what happens to my head when I stare into the reflected light on the flush surface of the tower outside my window?
What happens if I start having to remind myself to breathe
to drink, to exist
to go outside
again?

I stare at the huge glass building
I wonder if the people inside it stare back.
There's a time of day where my room is flooded with the reflection of the sun against it
it lasts only for ten minutes or so
there is always something that draws me to look straight at that reflection.
Artificial warmth from a huge mirror.

I can see inside the offices from here
they always seem to be empty from here.
Even when night falls, the light never stops
empty offices flooded in artificial light.

Do they make people work in the middle of the night?
What happens to me when people see me?
My ears full of sounds, my eyes full of light