Words

I am a pink flying elephant, the size of an ant.
Sometimes, I self destruct into the holes of my existence and et si tu n'existait pas, dis moi pourquoi j'existerais?
I like the pacific ocean. Whales, dogs, philosophy, exotic jungles, and silence. I think in waves of abstract patterns, mix, match, and make associations at the speed of light. The reality I live in is constructed by me. I examine my fears and shames, and inevitably yours too. My fabrics are made up of the most fragile straw afacing the storm. I sometimes love genuine complements. I dwell in the lines you don't read and in the language you don't speak. I am interested in shoes but my parents keep me on the ground. TV and I are not friends. I have befriended blue and orange books. I am married to writing and thinking curiously about science and art. Creation and imagination turn me on. I need music to live and films to watch. I traveled to China and Barcelona when I was passing from Tehran to Amsterdam. I eat cheese cake and drink cafe latte and red wine, not in the order written but the same order of thinking it was thought. If we can sing together, we sure will.

Holes of existence

Mark Antony was dancing arabic, in ropes
When Cleopatra died in Alexandria
Shakespeare captured that in a picture
In a land far away.

Calm

Pacific

Metamorphasis to an elephant

I am an elephant as a matter of my declaration.
I could be a butterfly but I didn't say.
A flying pink elephant in harmony with the continuum of evolution
One who doesn't play dice with the universe

Drama of existence

Everything is a metaphor for everything else
City people, I wish I believed in god so I could pray for you
Infinity in a grain of sand
And still asking advice for when we already know the answer of what we wish didn't