the moment I lost when the clock skipped

Where did that moment go ?

The hands slide on the bars of the underground and I return with palms imprinted with a stranger's touch. Rinsed the blank ink appears and what was written goes down the drain.

The rising sign wakes up late in the evening against its usual clock-ward round and the scene appears. The "eyes" become codes of lines read but the interpretation becomes a literary controversy. One can, one could, one would, one should change the topic of conversation. The game of neurons begins: the caffeine beats them hyperactive today. Their networking is overflooding the grey matter: indifference.

Goodmorning. Stop thinking. That is your job: do the small talk. Only that shall take lead you to the BIG FISH.

"Θα περάσει αυτή η νύχτα θα περάσει που διαόλια με έχουν πιάσει"

.................................................................................

(The song stays the same, no matter what I do......... to alter its psychic memo. )

One night of white two people came together in a secret mission to whiten up eachother with the frostbite of fresh snow. And the grey road of Coventry became white and the door opened for the four legs to tremble-run outside. At the odd moment one snowball fell on one place and on another more expected look of eyes the cold was shared among the two.

Then their footsteps formed an unknown dance. They run towards the corner of the road forever. They looked further down. Their laughters with tears embraced the cold together echoing the silence of winter, of their own.

Last I heard from them two they never returned to the footsteps they left behind...