Volcanoes. Boiling inside me. Triggered by the mundane, others would laugh it off. Maybe smoke it in their lungs and out. Tar scarring an imprint. For some, a drink is all the fun, dizzying the mind away from pain. Hang over and next thing you know, it’s come back to haunt you. Think I’ve found the remedy, my own personal therapy. Not certified. When madness is on the run, speed on the motorway. Maximum. Seatbelt. Head lights and tails always to be avoided. When you’re absolutely, most certainly sure you’re all alone, roll down your window. If not too cold, all four. Full attention. Here’s the secret sauce. Bite your tongue until your eyes sting with tears. Blood shot. Take a deep breath. Hold. Exhale while screaming in full volume. Diaphragm. Put some muscle into it. Repeat and repeat until there is no voice left, not even a hum. Warning. If a car approaches dangerously near, act normal. Emptiness, you should be feeling, lighter now. Nostrils flare the last remains of fire. Eyes focus on the road ahead. Hands behind the wheel. For the first time in hours, you notice that you have no destination. Your journey has just begun.
‘The only thing I know is that I know nothing’- Socrates
Sometimes our voices have no way to know which way to go. There is silence and then there are dreams that cling onto our throats unexpressed. Like ghosts our own thoughts haunt us, and what we are left with is time. To think. To know. To think we know. The clock slows down as we sit and wait for an answer. And so we wait, we keep on waiting. Until the day, when all the things we want to know become known to us. In knowing we grow, and in growth we go back to not knowing again.
It takes a lot out of us. Communication. Feels like an endless battle of shape and form. This is my point of view and that one is yours, but who’s to prove what’s true. Certainly not me. In whatever way you change your perception you never know when you’re making the right move. Playing poker you’re staring straight into someone’s energy field. Their hand gestures, even the slightest twitch on their left eyebrow will hint to you a direction of play. Are they bluffing? Can we ever know? On the river, the last card is a deuce. With two twos in their hands your Queens are mucked, and all because you didn’t trust your instinct. Deep down you knew all along. You should have folded when you still had the chance. Win or lose is always the game we play.
📷: Las Vegas, Nevada
If ever you were to fall in love with a rose, dare not pluck it. For its petals long will lose their fragrance. Sooner will its stem lose its strength. Even more, soon will its roots forget the dirt from which they came. Thorns will it shed, unable to protect itself. Wither, it will fade away. If ever you were to fall in love with a rose, still let it be. Still let it be.
The way we turn with no return. Regrets, we miss the ones we love most.
A chance they say is a gift of life, the only way to to start over again.
Back to the beginning, never the end.
There’s no pretending we’ve every won this battle of ours.
But still, we try, we always will.
Until the sight of the brightest light, we will journey tunnels of the dark.
And come the day we break free, I will find my way back to you.
Over the healing hills of Agios Sozomenos my grandpa Antonis would stand with binoculars for a chance to get a glimpse of his village Tymbou. Now part of the turkish occupied area, everything that once belonged to him and his family were lost…only left in blurry images to be viewed at a distance. The house my grandparents Antonis and Nikki had built, now belonged to someone else, the land still ripe with fruit now picked by foreign hands…but let us not dwell in the past. Let us start at the very beginning…the magic. Before Antonis was born, his father Demetrios owned very little, so little that his family had barely anything to eat. These were poor times, where people were forced to survive out of hard work and determination. Demetrios invested in farmland in his village Tymbou but the land proved barren and dry. Day and night he prayed for a miracle, yet nothing seemed to change. Despite it all Demetrios never gave up, his iron will always pushed him forward. One morning, while digging in the land, Demetrios stumbled upon something strange. It was a wooden frame, when he turned it over it was a silver-plated icon of Saint Marina. It looked very old, almost 100 years old or so. A strong believer in the mystical, he brought the icon back home as he took it as a good omen. That night, he had a vivid dream, a woman dressed in white spoke to him telling him to plant cotton in the land and that it would soon turn to gold, in return she wanted him to build a church in her honor. A few weeks went by…everything in a constant standstill, Demetrios prayed to Saint Marina and asked for help as he decided to plant cotton in the fields. In the coming months a miracle happened, the land prospered in cotton…leading to Demetrios receiving profit…business flowed so well that he soon hired employees of his own…leading to him buying more acres of land…leading to him practically owning most of the land in the village and becoming the richest man in Tymbou. He hired people with the kindness of his heart, offering them a stable pay and even food for their families. And in the land, the first piece of land he bought he built a church in the name of Saint Marina, a home for the icon he had found. This was a church later known as a miracle giver, people would pray to the Saint and give her offerings as she performed their miracles. My grandpa Antonis and his brothers inherited the land when his father Demetrios passed over, and kept it in prosperous conditions as they also had the charm of hard work, blessed with the gift of kindness. In 1974 everything was lost after the war but what surprises me the most is that my grandpa never ever lost his smile. It still shines bright to this day, his face is one of gratitude and grace.
Excited to present a new spring project of mine. Welcoming new beginnings, let us start fresh with inspiration, heart and a spirit wild. ~Nicoletta
So much love and gratitude to my sister Alexandra for filming & editing.
Follow her @pricklypeartravel.wordpress.com
I shook my head
side to side
Image after image
in a split second
without a blink of an eye
it was tomorrow
and then again today
all happening yesterday
a lapse of the mind
all inevitably passing by
without even stopping by
to wave a final goodbye.
Photo by me: Ancient Agora Thessaloniki, Greece
My soul cried out remember,
My mind pounding in thought
The crashing waves
In time for a perfect storm.
In the rolling waters
I lost myself,
Bit by bit a little more.
And as the faintest light
Touched the corner of my eye,
I breathed a sigh of the ocean
Into every part of me.
If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…
Photo by me: Limassol, Cyprus