” Ne iubim ca doua bete de chibrituri. Nu vorbim, ci ne aprindem. Nu ne sarutam, ci provocam incendii.
Cat sunt de inalt, de un metru saisezi si sase, corpul mi-e zgaltait de un cutremur de pamant. Inima evadeaza din invelisul-inchisoare, se scurge prin artere, imi ajunge in teasta si se preschimba in creier.
Sunt tot o inima, de la fiecare muschi pana in varful degetelor.”
Mathias Malzieu, Mecanica Inimii
I have no idea why they say that if you make a wish while blowing dandelions into the wind, your wish will come true.
And I have no idea why people have cocks showing the cardinal points on their roofs; it’s not like somebody will look that high to see which way the wind blows the cock’s metal feathers.
However, many fuzzy flowers were blown during my childhood and I’m still sending my wishes with giggles each time even though I don’t remember if those wishes came true.
It’s fun and makes me smile.
Just like the cock keeps on chuckling each time the wind blows hoping to fly away.
I had to find some answers for myself all week and once I figured them out I made this.
A collage of colorful thinghies and thoughts.
The book of Meow!
The book of Me or the book of You – this I did not figured it out yet!
*Suffering Sucatash
“Has your life been a failure? Let’s make your death a success.’
That’s what the Tuvache family does for a living: they run The Suicide Shop where you can find an amazing variety of ways and tools to end your life and to fit into the budget.
A combination between The Adams Family and Tim Burton characters, the Tuvaches are just “normal”: they never smile, are always depressed and they have a gloomy view about life. That is until Alan, the youngest son, starts to worry them with his laughter, singing and happiness.
He is the one greeting clients with “See you soon” instead of “Goodbye forever”, the kid that teaches his family how valuable love and life are.
Although it may sound creepy and strange this book is cheerful and enjoyable to read – a true French comedy.
I cried on the bus, on my way home, hidden under my cap.
No one noticed, no one cared.
At some point it even felt great sensing the hot tears on my cold cheeks reaching my chin.
Thing is, I’m still crying right now while writing.
I’m fucked up.
I feel like everything is going down the drain.
I’m sick and tired of all the laws, norms, rules and policies and whatever else there is to show me I can’t change something.
I don’t want to look back and say “what if … “.
Just can’t.
I hate highschool kids.
Oh, how I hate them so much right now.
Just because they have math classes, chemistry experiments and painting lessons.
I hate them ‘cause I loved skipping school.
It’s not certain whether the one you’re with now is the one you’ll be with for the rest of your life. There is no right person, there is no such thing as perfect man or woman. We are the ones who can make love last for a lifetime.
If someone ever asks you “Is he/she the right one?” You should answer: “I’m not sure but I intend to make him/her my only one.”
I think what messes me up the most is that I have this perfect picture in my mind of how things are supposed to be.
And fuck … I don’t know anything at all about this perfectness.
I’m feeling tired these days.
And I find myself praying I don’t die ’cause my mind is so freaking rested and it’s starting to scare me with all it’s pointless thoughts.
There are things I’m afraid to say, people I’m afraid to love, places I’m afraid to go.
I’m giving up too easily on people, on me.
I’m feeling tired these days when all I want is to be brave enough to live.
The book of Meow 