“When you walk through a storm,
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm,
There’s a golden sky
And sweet, silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll never walk alone”


So, another week has passed. Well, how do you want me to start? I feel a bit biased and not inspired, anyway. It’s an interesting feeling walking towards the place I’m gonna write in, not knowing what words will come out of me or what my perception of my story will reveal. I should probably explain my fear of bias of today. People kept asking me of my plans, having to tell them I go to the park, I go to write. So, now, you know, too part of my ritual. This comes from the idea that we are God, and we set for ourselves a series of experiences that we have to explore through forgetting that we are God, we like to be surprised, you see. And in my ritual, ideally, it would be that not even I know that I’m gonna write. It was a hard week, I was kind of thrown of my game, anyway. But it’s ok not to be inspired. I will write regardless. What sucks about this bias is the feeling of needing a who or a what to write for. I should bring Worry to court, cause it makes me fear in the face of the thought of losing sight of my mission and the bigger picture. We are approaching raw hard work, and even thou I know I have to forget the mountain from once in a while, to walk in a contemplative state, well, contemplation comes with a high risk of catching viruses and parasites. Focus has to be turned up a level already.

So fly with me
There’s a whole sky to see
I’m taking your mind with me
Into lucidity
Flying in unity
Could be normality
What you perceive to be
Is your reality

I believe I was summoned last night, and the weird thing is I believe I was summoned by me. I guess I am indeed looking for myself when I feel lost. Next week I’ll do better and I don’t plan on planning how. Ritual and practice are so important. A good part of my life, I probably rationalized laziness, or procrastinated on the bases of wanting to do everything spontaneously, thinking it’s the only way to ensure authenticity, fantasizing over the not yet discovered, secret talent. But it seems that with ritual and practice you can actually touch deeper and higher grounds and spaces. Oh how we like spaces. Imagine that, we love nothingnesses. “Before one can find his own voice, one has to sound like other voices” and that’s how it’s always been. In a way this is kinda what I meant when I said that there’s an echo on the line of this universe. Everything downloads into the next thing, and that’s how it’s always been till the dawn of time. Can you imagine that? That first thing? Complete, naïve awe. How long down the rabbit hole are you willing to go? Well, it is sweet to believe in magic, I’ll give you that much.

I finally got angry

Sometimes I feel like we all have a superpower and this superpower has an old mystic rule. You mustn’t talk about it. As soon as you mention it to someone your superpower gets taken away from you and you are thrown back into purgatory, paying in huge amounts, no matter how fast you escape the purgatory again.

who the fuck knows, I struggle too, I’m just happy when someone relates, and from two loners, from nothing, we become complete, for a moment there

Anger is a denial child of two paradoxes, of having power and not having power. But it’s all an illusion, you see, cause there can be no anger without the lack of anger. So just get to the next birth and cry again to clear your eyes and simply see

I like it better when I’m the echo rather than the ego

The echo comforts proving that there’s something more coming, whereas the ego threatens with endness.


I’m on a journey. What about my journey?

So another week has passed. I got hired sooner than I thought, so that’s wonderful. I can go to shops and talk without anxiety. I walked home from the work place for an hour and a half. God, I love walking! Tidiness is more godliness than I’d think. Today I feel calm, even thou more challenges are ahead. Remember, don’t ask for the task to be easy, just ask for it to be worth it. Don’t wish it was easier, wish you were better. Don’t ask for less challenge, ask for more skill. Don’t ask for less problems, ask for more wisdom. It’s the challenge that makes the experience, and life, and its color, and meaning, and adventure, for you, it’s this collection of experiences. To wish them away is to wish your life away.

There’s a certain balance in play, this calmness of today, it’s almost worrying. I’m sure a lot of people go through that feeling, that arises when everything feels good, of wanting the good to stop, just because, well, you know it’s gonna stop eventually. But the trick is to let go of how it all comes to pass, and to learn how to enjoy the beauty of every feeling. I recently heard something like “feelings are the language of the soul”. So, like being your own conscience judge say “I’ve had it with the presentation of a one-sided story, I sustain the objection that Worry has failed to bring out all the facts. I despise these mental court room maneuvers that try to belittle my client, me. I demand the whole truth, and if Worry will not be silenced I may cite him for contempt of the court of reason”.

So, what about this journey? I feel like is buckle up time. We escaped the ground. Now the action happens towards the sky and I hope there are snakes on the plane, and trees, and game rooms, and friends, and bikes, and gods, and princesses to rescue, dragons, obviously, and worlds upon worlds. Don’t we all wish this? I’ll meet you there. And if you’re worried, just bring it to court. You always get what you want, anyway. It’s just your choice of want is kinda lame most of the time.

Yeah, sure, a big part of life is waiting, and there’s really no way around it. I think, sometimes that’s where we lead ourselves astray, when we get bored of waiting and we avoid boredom seeking extraordinary. What that does is open extra stories, a high number of those making our job hard and confusing. Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but greatness has a lot of boredom in it. But there’s an echo on the line of this universe. Must be those quantum entanglements being aware of themselves, again. And that’s when you get that moment of “hey me, I like that we’re talking again”.

from a moment like that, when i’m in flow and things are happening, i can feel when its gonna end and i think it, then i have just a small space more just enough to accept the ephemeral state of it, and acknowledge that i am really purely just curious about what the next one is gonna be

Daylight IS mine to command

[Today is the day the journey begins. It’s raining. I want to look back for a bit. Still made some mistakes on the latest adventure, the one that ends today, but I made more good decisions than bad. I’m proud of myself. I’ve walked through the valley of the shadow of death until they and I understood that daylight is mine to command.]

15.07.2017, third day in UK, tabula rasa, white canvas, new born baby, the new life, new beginning, new chance. Being a new born comes with a lot of confusion, a lot of adapting to do, the weather, the time, the people, the language, the shops, society all together. Went shopping today. I should do this more often, it reminds me of things I could want, so it keeps me motivated. I should go for runs. Keeps me healthy and focused. Start a ritual! Keep writing. Try writing every week. Not much art in UK so far. I’ll talk about the vibe here soon. For now I just want to mention the clouds and the absence of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. So far I’m doing it. I sleep, I eat, I work my way towards a job. It’s a one year project. I’m 3 days in, but it starts now. It always starts now, even in the last day. I really like Coventry. I’d like to move there. Oh yeah, I’m in need of a new direction. Oh, and, remember, as long as you’re getting closer to the mountain, you should be alright. Also, I’M IN FUCKING UK! Now, this one, I didn’t see this one coming. The weed is good, crossing the street is dangerous, everything has an order, technology is crazier, people walk in bubbles,  crime is high, people are drunk, brits are low in numbers. No wonder they dislike immigrants. People are cold and depressed. I have no friends. I like that I hate it here. I need to be in a new place to hate. Still, I want to learn how to talk to these people. I wanna hear what they have to say. But all in due time. I’m a new born, remember? I got space to manifest. Getting from city to city is easy. Some products are good, some products are bad. They got cheap stuff, expensive stuff. Some music would be nice. Doesn’t rain that often as you’d think…so far. Sometimes you have to close your eyes for a while in order to be reminded of the beauty of it.


I feel undeserving, thou.

Nu ti se pare ca sunt doua tipuri de a vrea?

Somehow, just by not consuming, I end up having abundance in what I need.

Hmm, when I feel lost, I wonder if I’m looking for myself.

Also, I gotta meet up with simo.

What we need is we all walk towards the same mountain.

I do take pride in and honor my paranoia, my autism, my schizophrenia, my bipolarity, my OCDs, my lonesomeness, my anger, my ADD, my catatonia, my hypochondria, my constant existential crisis and identity crisis, my anhedonia, my low self esteem, my narcissism, my psycho and sociopathia, my multiple personalities, my hysteria, my terror deep inside.

I really gotta fight for this!

I like the sadness, I do.

You see, it has to be done part by part. And when you’re a certain part, you gotta do that part and not worry about the other parts you’re doing simultaneously.

A game of reflections and wonder

I wonder what this adventure brings. It’s a nice one. I missed a nice one. And not only is it nice, but it’s also a great one.

Merg la Cluj.

Oh wow. It brought love. What a surprise. What do I do with this love thing? How can someone love me back like I love them? And how do I still love her when she loves me back like that? How can we make our avatars love each other? And is it a good idea to follow this love, or any? How do I stay focused when in love? Should I forget her? Is true love possible? Would sex be good? Would it ruin it? Will she forget me? Should she? Am I over and wrongly enthusiastic? Is it wrong to want her to fool me and hurt me, just to, at least, feed on a fantasy? Should I trust my dopamine thoughts?

One thing is for sure. Yet another adventure is right around the corner.

Merg in Anglia.

Foresight Being, I want to tell you that money is coming, the beautiful souls came and we get to travel some more soon. Gotta give it to you, boring it ain’t. I really want the illusion of the impossible, the promise of pure, endless love. …all the ways we struggle to get out of our illusions are illusions themselves, after all. As long as there’s no doubt, I don’t even care if it’s true. Nonsense. Dopamine thoughts again. “Lose yourself, find yourself”. Close and closer, but not quite there, haven’t found myself yet. Gotta stay focused. Gotta follow my name even thou I don’t know it. Gotta keep the faith. Gotta nurture the spark of desire within. Back to the love thing, all I really want is we both go through the same thing. One thing is to go through pain alone, unbearable as it may be, but through love, to go at it alone…now that’s just sad. What needs to happen? What good in trying to figure out what needs to happen? Nonsense, anyway. What do you mean “needs to happen”?. Today she said something about friendship. I find myself in a Conundrum. If I ask her about this I strip off any magic from the box. If I don’t, I risk overthinking it or stripping myself off any energy in the box. Seems like I’m Schrodinger’s cat, and there’s a world out there where love is and isn’t at the same time, and me and her feel the same way and not at the same time. Still so many questions inside the Conundrum. Still my life sucks inside the Struggle. And still I’m a junky for love.

Can’t wait to get out of Sibiu. This island of smoky mirrors. I feel so fundamental here. I wanna be basic. I’m fundamentally fear and love at the same time. I wanna be one thing. A ride. For me and her. The clearer this reality becomes, the closer to the Sun I am, the harder it burns. I guess I’m not as strong as I like to believe. I guess I still struggle letting go. How could I accept the experience of her as a one time thing? How could, and why would anything ask of me to forget her. What good in loving deeply if loving deeply is letting her go? I even feel guilty and like a fool loving you. I keep wondering what will we more likely remember. What we said or what we didn’t say. What we wrote or what we chose not to. Words or non words.

Keep wanting to record the fact that I find myself in Wien Café yet again before I start my next adventure. What I want is keep talking to her and do my work good. After all, the Universe doesn’t like spoilers. So it has to forget in order to either remember or experience, which are actually the same. So just relax. Go on and on. Learn to ride a bike. Learn to swim. Be careless and careful. Follow lord fortune wherever he leads and petition your demons to tend to your needs. Go crazy, go wild, get wasted, get wise, wake up from your nightmares and stop believing their lies. Get active, get radical, get real and get magical. Aspire to the heights and embrace all your lows, give into desire, let the flood of lust flow. So let go, and let rip, take a ride, take a trip, get to work, get to bed, get a life, get a grip. Take leave of your senses, your cunning pretenses, pick up your beds and tear down your defenses, and retrace the course of the spring to its source.


A game of reflections

Who are you when you watch the awareness? What is the story? What is your role? Or is it part of the big secret? Oh, the big secret, from the holy, collective Spacebook. This is it, I say. Put on a good show for the dreamers out there. We always seem to want to write when we don’t feel like writing. I wonder what it feels like to want to not write when we feel like writing. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, it has begun. The game is now called integrate everything! But what’s this whole secret fuss? Well, one thing they don’t tell you is how it never gets boring. All the time looking for the one story. How many decisions are being made in one moment? One. What does the absence of feedback bring? But relax, the big secret is unknowable. Or I’m just saying this to make you read in a non-belief mind set. How do you know I’m not manipulating you? Why do people report their life flashing before their eyes during a near death experience? One does not simply walk into death without integrating everything. And I can prove it. So relax! But stop for a bit. To enter this game you have to walk through the fundamental idea that every opposite  coexists all the time and in regards to anything and everything all at once. You have to forget everything you’ve known or thought you knew. It starts now. Good. I don’t want to blow your mind, but now you have to know the great answer and not speak a word of it, the big secret. How does it feel? Just stop for a bit! Life your head up and stare at whatever there is in front of you. Do this till you forget you were reading and you remember it back. Ok, do it now! What did you think about? What did you see? How long did you stare? Did you have an awareness of time while you were forgetting and experiencing at the same time? Time. Well, this is just juvenile of a toy in the game. By the way, do you remember when you decided to join the game?


To be honest, I don’t know where this love thing leads to. I mean, how long can I feel it? Am I trying to control it? What good in feeling this when it’s clear is gonna end? I know there’s no end and no means, even thou there’s meaning, there’s no conclusion to this Universe. It’s an endless book.

Another thing, I know for a fact she’s crazy. Her avatar I mean. And I feel like I don’t have an avatar anymore. It’s like I forgot how to be myself. I used to be charming and sexy, I used to act like I’m the shit. Where did I lose this? The days in this feeling are endless and full. Nothing incomplete about these days. And even thou there’s also desperation and light inside the storm of everyday, I happen to be inside the inside of the storm, making there be balance and ritm at the same time in the silence of the storm. I’m afraid to love you fully, I’m scared of it being enough and endful. I know it’s shawl, but I wish she finds me sexy. I know I find her sexy. And it’s so irrational. I’m not even gonna see her for a long time. Maybe I should forget her. If she’s worth it, I will remember her at the right time. What is really worth it in this experience we call life? Am I crazy, I wonder. I ride this wave right now, and I’m hungry, and I feed on the wind, and it feels right, but what shore will I end up on? Will she be there? What will be there? And will it be worth it? As I surf through the Great Conundrum, my Consciousness is suspended by the silence of love. I don’t budge.


Now the game is called “who’s gonna blink first?”. But my question is what happens if neither ever blink? Well, who cares, I need this moment of silence. I feel how I struggle not to forget her every time I’m under the impression this is the moment I forget her. Requires a lot of faith. In this crazy experiment of mine, I seem to be ending up in this state where I hunt down the last thought about her and I snooze it every time. It’s so dusty on the edge of the sphere. All the forgotten are here. I see her, she begins the same way. Her right star excites me and beautifully worries me at the same time. She creates me and I create her. We don’t blink. I do remember everything about you.  Now I have this crazy idea to keep writing and not speak a word of it. And I wonder a lot of stuff. I wonder if I made your reality magic, too. And you are completely forgotten. I wonder if I am completely forgotten, too. I take the first breath. She knows.


Sky high.

I will soon be sky high again. Above the clouds. Part of the big canvas. It’s funny, I kinda feel depressed. The funny part is I think I need to be, I feel I have to be sad and down for a while. Feels strange. I micro-dose death and I supra-dose love. Can’t help it. You may argue it’s unhealthy, but they are the ingredients of life. Actually I think all’s gonna be alright. I will enjoy every step of the way, every challenge and every reward. Mindfulness with timing, also known as syncronicity, is the way to go. I gotta say, I’ve come to embrace my deaths like never before, or is it that I played my cards right so far. Everything’s gonna be ok because I’m awesome. I’m letting go and I’m ready for anything at the moment when anything shows itself. I trust I always remember my mantra in the moment of action. I’ve seen myself, I’m very capable. Ok, sevraj time. Today we go sevraj. It’s gonna be a long day maybe, or not, hard, or not. I will stay staring into nothingness for hours if I have to. I don’t have permission to feel guilty or unproductive. This is sevraj day. So, in the summer of 2017, the month of June, I experienced both love and isolation. I enjoyed both. Now I find myself at the other end of it. I let go of all control and I embrace my whole self, with my controlling tendencies, too. It’s sevraj day and I’m hungry. I’m on holyday. No time for regrets. Half the fun is learning and I’m having a ball. While the world keeps turning, my role is small but I make a change. I hope you feelin’ the same way. In this concrete jungle we live our survival is love that we give, now my instincts are guiding my way, it’s true what they say, the world is your chance to create.

Calatoria prin timp nonlinear

Sa presupunem ca totul e acelasi lucru, iar existenta e un mister pentru ea insasi. Dar vezi, pana si chestia asta pe care ea si-o scrie siesi e nula, inecesara, si nu ar trebui sa existe, chiar daca, si tocmai pentru ca, exprima faptul ca expresia nu e necesara.

Recunoasterea. Now that’s something. The sense, and the drive to name the unnamed. Mamihlapinatapai. The paradox of the name not naming itself holds the perception of time in a linear sense. Inbetween rests the rest.
Will. To want, or the feeling of want. And you usually want to hold things still so that you experience everything through any given point of building. But you see? There lays the trick. In wanting to transcend there can be no transformation. After all, you’re standing still. Transformation requires dynamic, requires death and birth and death and birth. So then comes the question. Can you trick the universe to transcend imortality into imortality?
Nonlinear perception of the time. Paradoxes.
Sa presupunem ca exista un inceput si un sfarsit. La inceput avem doua personaje, energie masculina si energie feminina. Mai avem un copac cu viata si adevar. Sugar, spice and everything nice. They both know and they both know they know. They both feel there’s nothing to be known.
Then we have the history of the universe. During which this unnamed struggles with wanting to name itself, swimming like a dolphin in and out of the ocean it creates along the way, deep down and cosmos high.
We still have the same two characters in our story, only they are spread in the vast unnamed, playing all scenarios, the whole infinite of them.
Before we get to the end, let’s look at another story.
The attempt to trick the universe.
In one of the male’s energy manifestations it figures it out. But as he has the revelation, being on the “know and want” field, he also “knows” that he can’t use it, as naming the unnamed would end existance. The revelations continue and, paying in huge amounts of energy, he figures out a way to stop time, to hold it all, from start till end, to walk on the nonpath of nonlinear time.
Earlier before he had recognised her. They saw and were seeing each other in the middle of now here. So, in its ignorance, ambition, and want of control, he decided like a child to try out this paradox on… well, by now you’ve figured out, it was on itself, him and her being it and all. So he returned to Utopia, and hid something from her. Just one thing, the one thing, the rest was all to feel. He then told her with the energy of a child what he had done, but you could see the mad scientist face as well. Telling her was part of the plan. He had just ask her out on a date at the end of time, even thou, not only would they meet there anyway, but they are already there. Now, all he needed was a hidden thing, the one thing, by her. Well, the story goes she never did, because maybe she didn’t even understand, or that she understood clearly.
The dynamic of death and birth, in the ocean and out to the stars was doing its thing. The history of the universe continued as it always does. Their manifesting paths grew separate, and the undefinied space between them was absorbing the life out of him, through his controlling definition of the undefined. He was indeed living the nonlinear time field, but he was killing and dying in the process, instead of his plan of life eternal, which he already had through being it. He was going crazy in the act of projecting his story onto the history of the universe.
He was spared of the burden when he went back to her and showed what he had hid from her.
Sa presupunem ca totul e acelasi lucru, iar existenta e un mister pentru ea insasi. And when all scenarios are over, meaning all the time, they meet on the Planet with the garden of the one and only tree, seeing each other as the one remaining truth that needs no naming.

7dcdbcc17eb5748411c858a5430508f6 Continue reading

Dor- Vraji Praji

imaginează-ți că ești pe niște șine de tren
și te uiți în depărtare către șine cum din paralele se transformă în punct
acolo sunt eu
hai după mine
privirea sus!
sunt un cerc prins de-o ureche
urechea ești tu, ascultă-mă
sunt chiar în partea cealaltă, iar când mă uit la tine, tot punct roșu aud
sunt plin de puncte roșii pe margine
iar trenul se învârte,
mâncând tot torturi de check point-uri în noduri fabulate și degete cântate
ascultă-mă, nu doar în zi.
sunt vorbitorul. asta doar pentru că sunt chiorul.
Îmi place să fiu punctul din capătul celălalt.
punctul e necesar, atrage și scutură covoare goale-goale cu praf de valuri de mirare.
Și care, dar oare, care e un oarecare?
că fiecare punct e unic, la fel ca toate celelalte.
Sunt fapte moarte împăiate în acasele în viață din plin privind în gol ce-ascund opusuri de priviri neoarbe
sunt un sirop acrilic din fundal cu susu-n jos pe-un sunet salt
sunt un doar neinvitat, un estuar nevizitat, o picătură de ulei, o scoarță netedă de ei,
un bin-venit de mine, o inimă de porți străine
sunt un clișeu de tine, adio și rămâi cu bine

Legenda Oaiandei

Cap. 1. Panda

La inceput era nimic. Pentru ca ce urma sa se nasca stia cat de important era sa astepti cateva momente la inceputul oricarui inceput…sa observi un pic situatia, mai ales ca era dubios sa fie nimic.
– Dar sa incepem cu sfarsitul. Mereu incepem cu sfarsitul si incepem idei vechi din idei noi. Poate ceva neinceput sa aiba un sfarsit? Oricum e doar haos observat de o constiinta si interpretat, legat, concluzionat, modificat; si oricum e nimic, doar constiinta ce creaza ceva-ul <> ambele in acelasi timp si niciuna…

Mamihlapinatapai cosmic – atunci cand universul se dedubleaza dorind acelasi lucru, dar nici o parte din cele doua nu vrea sa fie prima care initiaza.
Dar bine…asta e doar ideea unui copac batran pe nume Royskopp care canta despre formă ca un monument antic plin de energie transformata din timp si sculptata de evenimentele din cele infinite dimensiuni; si despre momentul in care totul a fost facut din dragoste si inca mai trimite semnale prin frecvente jucause si va trimite vesnic, pana la urmatorul inceput sau sfarsit..intelegeti voi..sau alegeti.
La auzul ultimelor cuvinte ale batranului Royskopp zis si Jubokko, zis si Yggdrasil, si multe altele, a venit momentul nasterii din nimic catre nimic a unui panda autist, cu o singura intrebare in minte si in suflet “De ce am fost creat?”
Era: Iarna Marilor Cete. Totul era un far, far, far Away. Mergea catre nimic in timp ce totul se crea in jurul lui, avand ca ghid doar Luna Geagea, ce ii lumineaza calea, din Conlunatia Coma White.
Poposise pe la mijlocul nimicului chiar in punctul in care oriunde privesti vezi doar nimic, sa se odihneasca si sa cugete. De plictiseala s-a lasat sa creeze fara sa mai fie atent, si doar se juca Go inconstient si liber de nevoia distrugerii, cand un sarpe cu doua capete jucause ii iese in cale. Erau Shakali si Aghori si aveau cam 30 m lungime. Aghori avea 33, a facut mai mult sport in tinerete. Asta l-a facut increzator si de-asta el era cel care vorbea,, iar Shakali doar asculta, mereu.
Shakali era rosu, Aghori albastru.
– Imi povestea cineva ca a dormit o data pe o bancă-popas afara si cand s-a trezit, s-a dus sa-si ia o cafea si s-a intors pe aceeasi banca sa si-o bea ca de dimineata. Cred ca facem asta mai des decat observam. Cred ca e vorba de acelasi sentiment, de acelasi atasament de “acasa” unde “lucrurile noastre sunt”, unde cunoastem, unde ne simtim confortabil, unde ne place sa fim si atat, unde ne recapatam energia, sau deschiderea catre ea lucrand prin dimensiunile cognitiv, emotional, spiritual. Asta e ideea aceluiasi copac cand nu-i atent la ce se gandeste si trunchiul lui creaza foi ce se scriu singure si se trimit una pe cealalta prin posta rosu-albastrie, schimband frecventa semnalului, dar pastrand esenta, reamintind ca a sti si a se astepta sunt diferite, iar limbajul, comunicarea, conexiunea devin materiale fundamentale in crearea monumentelor antice.
Ii povestea Aghori lui Shakali fara sa arate vreun semn cum ca Panda Autist ar exista. Dupa ce ramase blocat pe “acelasi copac” o vreme, Panda cel mic se gandea “si daca as pune in cuvinte, in pasi, in etape, in descrieri, in explicatii, in terminologii universalul – presupunand ca il identific – nu as lua magia din el oare? Poate in mod paradoxal e preferabil sa evidentiez faptul ca toti avem perceptia proprie si unica asupra universalului, si asa e si fain sa fie. Toti? Dar care toti? La ce bun sa existe toti? De ce sa fie creati altii?”
In marea de piese negre din Go, Panda plasase piesele albe la intamplare in tot acest timp; in mijlocul nimicului; scria: “When you are born in a world you don’t fit in, it’s because you were born to help create a new one.” Panda was like wtf si s-a trezit intr-un vis.
Era: Inceputul Sfarsitului. Lordul Haribo Tequila Ț Smokey Frederic Tomas the Fifth organizeaza ultima petrecere a existentei.
Panda, nevenindu-i sa creada, inchise ochii repetand in minte “Lumineaza-mi calea Geagea pana o gasesc, lumineaza-mi calea Geagea pana o-ntalnesc!”

Cap. 2. Panda visits the 7th dimension, The land of Alexandria, where all books are called Alex and they write each other into existence. Panda starts reading the Gatekeeper Book.
“It’s amazing how beings step into your life and how they change you. How they remind you and you remind them that sometimes all we need to do is show each other we’re there. We’re all one; all Alex; all Pandra; all metaphors for each other. I’m not something else. I’m a different choice of you. I’m you with a left turn at one point. I’m what could have been if. We’re mirrors for each other, and that mirror shows itself as magical when you see yourself in me (you being anyone and me being anyone and anyone being anyone). Come be with us, let us write you. Take a pen. Join the wave of words. Be!

“I once chose to be nothing” said Panda “from a list of things i wanted to be. Now I choose to be a traveler. Why do i choose to be a traveler? Because it means so much. I get to choose all kinds of spaces to travel, and by looking through this window, or mirror, I get to be all the things on the list all together in one beautiful thing, which becomes actually less thing like and more being like. Maybe i will get to some higher definition, but this is the best definition of myself yet. And it’s only a definition to be able to paint a picture for the other non-definitions that are so not thing like and so forevermore more being like. Traveling is so much trippier than drugs, than movies, than childhood (well, maybe equal to it), it opens you up to so many possibilities. Well..having had drugs before the actual trip helps a lot, as it makes you aware of the things you want and are able to pay attention to…or, you know, beings, not things. I want everybody to feel that their story is the most awesome story there is. I know how that feels, I feel it everyday. That doesn’t mean I am not aware, and objective (objective as your world perceives that concept), and rational thinking. And all these metaphors! Everything is a metaphor; everyday, every now. This change in perception not only made the past 2 billion years or so an engine for metaphors, but transformed everything that happened before in metaphors.”

I wanna faaaade into you

O simpla Marti in dimineata orei 8 in care ma vad incapabil sa raspund la intrebarea ei “de obicei la cat te trezesti?”. Dar asta e cel mai irelevant lucru. Povestea este despre cum cei doi s-au lasat sa se iubeasca pe celalalt “Everybody seems so far away from here/Everybody just wants to be free” – fara asteptari, fara nimic, in afara timpului, asa cum le place.

– Inca o poveste? Gizas! Da’ cate mai vrei? Pai? Bine! Am ales sa nu ascult muzica acum. Nu ca e vorba de vreo nevoie de liniste ca urmare a stresului; sunt chiar relaxat. Relaxeaza-te si tu! Nu e o poveste trista sau violenta, sau nu stiu. Nu te lua dupa mine! Inca nu stiu ce vreau sa scriu. Vreau sa scriu despre ce fac acum. Si asta fac. Scriu acum despre cum scriu acum. Mai acum de-atat nu se poate.
– A spus cineva “acum”?
– Cand? Nu ma mai intrerupe, imi pierd ideea si nu mai sunt atent la ce gandesc. Dar stai un pic! Cum se face ca tu auzi ce scriu?
– Sunt o ha..
– Hei! Ce-am discutat de intreruperi? Tu asculta ce scriu! Hmm… ma-ntreb daca iti trimit o scrisoare e ca un voicemail pentru tine…

– Nu trebuie sa raspunzi. Zici ca m-asculti cu capu-n jos. Iti sugerez ceva: ………………………apreciez atat de mult oamenii din jurul meu atunci cand ma iubesc, fara sa stie ca fac asta, si asta ma face sa fiu distrat ce alege sa se lase sa fie distrat. It’s a heart thing. It wasn’t a nothing thing……………………………………..pai cat timp n-ai fost atent la mine, eu nu m-am intamplat.