I am afraid of the storms. Especially at the night time. I am panically afraid of it. The sounds, the lights... Everything makes me wake up and look at the window with just one question: "WHY"? When the trees are falling down and the branches are waving faster and faster... The wind is blowing into the window with the powers of thousand angry people. It looks like the wind will pick up your house, pick up the roof of your house and will start to spin you around and then when you got dizzy, that "angry people" will hit you on the ground from thousand metres. When the storm starts with heavy rains and strong winds with the lightnings it makes me frustrated. It makes me feel scared. It is scary. At night it is scary. Everything at night looks more frightful than it is used to look at the day time. They say: only for people who has got a huge imagination nights are scary, because everything is in your minds. There are nothing more than your imagination. But for me... Well, I am panically afraid of the nights. It looks like at the night time all the things become real. All your fears are sitting or standing near you and breathing slowly. You can not hide from them. That fears aren't afraid of the lamp light. They aren't afraid of nothing, except themselves. You can't close your eyes, because you can feel clearly, that someone, anyone is watching you. Watching you and is standing near the doors, watching you and is standing near the closet, watching you and sitting on the ceilings. They are like a scanners. They are scanning all your fears and making it true. At the nights everything become alive. In the silent night, suddenly something falls down you wake up and you start to breath more silently, you start to breath slowlier. You are listening everything carefully. Everything looks scary at the night. More scary at the night. But when you wake up at the morning, even though it is very early morning, you are feeling more thankful of the day than you were before. You just say: Thank you God, for another wonderful, fantastic and awesome day of living.

Bang. Bang. You are dead

Bang. Bang. You are dead. From hatred. From disrespect to another's: weaker, slower, sillier life. From the duty to defend the country against those who, in our opinion, are attacking. Friends become enemies. The whole world is walking on a thin line of life, and the blood is flowing around it. Because the world without blood can not be cleaner. It's like blood cleans up the world. I do not understand it, I can not understand. Why those who do not want to kill are being forced to do it? Why are these "Peace missions" in the Middle East are even more bloody? Why young people are forced to defend the country, which no one is really attacking? Why are those who are making the problems, not going to solve them? Why to the army has to go all, but from it backs just a few? After all, it is life. The government doesn't care. For them there is important only money. After all, how else rich gentlemen and ladies will buy a villa on the lake shore? There will be no soldiers- there will be no blood. There will be no blood- there will be no money. You know, I am sometimes sad ... Our world revolves around the money and blood, around the pain and sorrow, and that millionaires do not care.They need only money. Why do young people have to leave their homes, families, and go to the bloody world? Why? I do not understand. I can not understand. You know, I am feeling disgusted. I want to take those who are selfish, heartless, disgusting, and who are juggling the lives of others as if it were their own life. I want to walk near them and at the faces shout: Wake up! Here it's not your life! I want to scream, cry, shout. I do not understand why, God, why? I do not understand why adults do not value the lives of others? Why? Why do they want to kill, why do they kill? Why? I do not understand, God, I can not understand. Are their hearts of stone, that sparkles in the eyes just about the money? I do not understand the bloody peace missions, I can not understand young people who are converted to the killers, I can not understand, and I feel hurted. I want to scream, shout and ask: Are you stupid adults? Can you open those closed eyes? Can you finish the pointless war? Wake up, wake up! I do not understand why you are so blind? Wake up, finally! This is not a game... WAKE UP!

For what?

The little girl is sitting near the window,
The wind is blowing and she hears the shots
How sad to live?! How sad to live?!
The sound of bleeding heart, the sound of children cry,
The sound of feeling that you are not alive.
How sad to live?! How sad to live?!
Her eyes are full of tears...
The mother dead, and brother is breathing slowly;
The life is hard she feels it clearly
When holds the brother in the lake of blood and tears...
How sad to live?! How sad to live?!
The bird away is flying,
The white pigeon away from there.
No one could change the feeling here,
The dark and sad, the coldness here
Please, God, bring some peace near.
How sad to live?! How sad to live?!
The girl keeps tears and holds the breathless brother.
 But the peace is gone away from thousand miles, no mother...
 How sad to live, just how it's sad...

The view of blood which is leaking from the chest full of the bullets. The sound of cries. The feel of empty pain. Tanks passing the streets, soldiers everywhere, in the air you can clearly feel scaryiness. All the time there was a war for the territory. All soldiers were fighting for the territory. All needed just one: territory. But you know what? They all really wanted just fame. All people were fighting just to show how important they are, and how unimportant are other people. They fought for their ambitious, for their wish to show how important they are... Today I'd like to ask you one thing, just one very short question: For what? For what innocent people are dying? For what, please tell me, important people I am asking you... For what? Are you, those who are making this thing, have you ever thought how hard is to loose somebody you love with all your soul and all your heart? For what these things are going on? The life is not a game. You will not have second life after the "GAME OVER". There will not be any "NEW GAME". And I am asking you, these who are fighting for nothing: Is it so hard to be glad of health you have got, is it so hard to be glad of smiles you can see everyday, is it so hard to be greatful that you are not starving? Now, today, when in Africa, Brasil, Guatemala, India so many people are starving and everyday is like a fight for living to them, is it so hard to forget your ambitious? Personally, for me it looks more than sad to see and to hear about the people who are dying, when in the world the richest countries are spending their money on the guns and other war inventor. Did you ever count how much money are wasted on the war. How many children for those money could have earned education? How many talented children died from illnesses, because they were poor? And now I am asking you: 'Do for you, matured people, doesn't look silly to war, to argue who is better? Could you forget your ambitious for a week, for a month, for a year, for all time?' We are all the same people. There is just one religion in the world: BELIEVE IN SOMETHING. There is just one race of people: HUMAN. There is no person in the world who is more talented than other. There is no other person who is more beautiful than other. We are all in one. We are one big team. And you know what the children in all world asks for God to make every night before they fall asleep? That all people would be happy and healthy. They are asking every night just for one thing: PEACE. Is it so hard to make, if we are all one big team?

Writers.

You know, I often think ... If the people who love to read is considered to be lazy for living, so who is the person who writes? Maybe you can consider writers as a hard working people, that they let for readers to be lazy? What exactly are the writers? Illusionists, who act that they are suffering? Acting suffer? The writer has to act, he has to empathize, he has to experience the pain and keep it compressed inside. Writers need drama, writers need tears, they need pain. Writers need emotions. The writer should act. Every word, every letter must scream from the pain, must shout from the sadness. Every sentence must burn your soul. Keep the sparkle in the heart and burn it very very quickly. Each phrase have to force you to think, to analyze. The writer must suffer. Generally, suffer makes our life more mature, it help us to grow us, pain makes our foundation stronger, tears helps to keep the flowers of compassion in our hearts. In my opinion, people like pain, like tears, like painful drama with its charming end. This is how it is. After all, someone must pretend to suffer. Someone needs to pretend to be weak and vulnerable, broken. Writers. They need to act. Act that they are alive. Convince the lazy reader, that they are alive. They need to suffer. They have to act the pain- they have to live. To live. Writers must live. Day by day to live. To live. They have to prove that they are living. This is their one and only responsibility. They have to prove that they are living. They are cheating in this game. They are showing an examples of living for those lazy readers, but they are just writing. With no purposes, just making other people think that they are smarter and more talented than that person is. Writers are liars. Writers are an illiusionists, who want to show who they aren't. They are representing themselves as alive people. They are acting living...

The note on the bus station

From an early age the little girl, Jimena wanted to kill routine and meet the adventures. Now, she is middle-aged woman with a university degree and routine, which she didn't kill. All life her parents taught her to live a comfortable life with minimalist unexpection: rain, while Jimena in her work calendar, in which everything was planned in minute, she was clearly written: "Sunny"; teachers delays, long queues in shops and bad bus schedules. One of the beautiful rainy day like she wasn't planned, when the tiny drops of rain fell on her black coat and looked like the drops are colouring everything with unhuman powers, Jimena noticed an ad on a bus stop. Publication of the low-tattered leaflet, which appears to have suffered no less than the asphalt of this street, the advertisment simply cried, screamed and did not let to pass through it. In the ad was written: "Have you ever wanted do not explain things, because more than something you liked to slide on the life's ground and that ground had to be nice to see and to feel? Since you gave a lot of efforts to make the life comfortable, you might didn't want to deal with what is hiding behind of it? Or probably do not want to admit that sometimes you felt superfluous and strange? Although sometimes you wanted to know the secret, which was destined to learn, but are you never recognized that the fate awarded you with an unusual gift, and gave hope, like point of the light in the darkness, that helped you understood that the way has got the waysides. For the people who aren't rushing. I am almost sure that you wanted to stop time or rewind it back, and believe those who seek the truth and doubt those - who have found it. I know that you realized that the freedom to feel fail is the main reason of success and while you did not stop trying- you aren't lose. If you realised that, then you know how to learn to hear, see, feel and smell the human world things, not just visible to the naked eye and hand touched things. If that was not enough for you to understand the meaning of life, let me kill the routine and introduce to you ... Yes, yes! You! With untold adventures. Well, all you need is to get up and without waiting just shout: Yes, I'm worth it! "
Jimena seemed almost dead. She wasn't moving. Suddenly, her eyes shone. Pulse became high, she began to breathe more frequently. Suddenly, she jumped high into the air, smiled to the world and shouted: Yes, I'm worth it! On that day she felt more than alive: the whole world, which was so boring, became beautiful. All that boring, hard world for her, for Jimena, has become an extraordinary challenge, which she was ready to overcome. For the first time she realized that her years in the passport is just a hoax. For the first time, that sad woman, became young not the age, but the soul, for the first time she wanted not a comfortable life, but adventures.
Guess where she went first? That fun and lively woman came to my house and in the wide opened door shouted: Yes, I'm worth it!
Suddenly I saw myself at the mirror, all of that mirror was painted with thousand sentences from four words: "Yes, I'm worth it." And you know what? Suddenly I realized that this sad woman always lived in me, till the life came to me and started to shake me and scream: Yes, you're worth it!

After all, in fact, life has no logic, no straight road on which you could go. Life is an endless difficulties, turns, misunderstandings. Life is an adventure. Everyone needs to live it, sometimes go off the reality, fly, love, dream, dance, shout, sing ... Live, live, and love everyone more and more. I wish all of you to discover yourself, kill your routine and, of course, enjoy everything!

Living

Every person is free to do whatever he or she wants. Nobody should care of it.

'No, it's not making me hurted.

No, I am not suffering.

This is how it is. I get used to.

You can get used to all things.

By the way, I have no choice.

No, it's not making me hurted.

Maybe, just a little bit, sometimes.

But I'm not thinking of it. It's useless.

Every has got similar troubles.

You can't choose, this is how it is.

That is life, like they are saying, that is life.

Doesn't matter it will pass through

Yes, this is how it is, one day it will finishes.'

(my translation of Bernard Friott poem)


I do not know why people should care of others. Care and ask why the person is like that. I do not know. I can not answer... You are waiting for an explanation, you want to know. I can answer just: I do not know. There is no reason, or maybe I do not remember it. I am who I am and that's a point. I didn't choose...

Let's think

I am wondering how it feels to walk on coals, and feel nothing. Feel nothing. The interesting thing is that people are paying to convince theirself that they aren't hurt. That they are feeling great. Although their feet in the air has become fried and they already able to smell the fire. They are calm. And I am still wondering how it feels to be an Indian soldier and kill a snake ... Without remorse. Without fear. Without compassion. I am thinking what should then feel the snake? Emptyiness? Pain? Relief What then should feel the snake when the spear goes directly into the heart, spread sharper than the harsh words, fine-cut and sharpened by an experienced warrior... What then the snake should feel, when it's heart is pierced by a spear, and is tearing all the arteries, leaves neither the slightest chance to survive, when just in a second it's thread of the life is lost. Nothing left. What then should feel the snake, when from it's heart runs bright red blood and flows, flows, flows ...And what the soldier would think that moment, I am thinking... The soldier, who is the chef of his tribe, but his soul is dirty. Soul soaked with blood, red as a poppy in the field, blood which you can't wash with soap; you could not take the soul, wash it and put it again into the right place. No... He has to feel shame which is so great that hurts his stomach and never lets to forget what had happened. Guilty, which would always be in front of his eyes, never let to forget, at least for a short pass through the streams, forests which are full of the blood, without thinking about anything else. I'm still thinking. I am thinking. You are thinking. Let's think.

Apples on the wet grass

I think that writers are suffering a lot. If you won't suffer, so how you will write? But not for all it is like that. Some of them tried to write, but all they got, it was just a buble of the soap. I think that people are like apples. A lot of apples on the wet grass. Sun rays are starting to dry all that drops. Sun is rising. The apples are on the grass. A lot of them. On the grass little worm is going. . . Worm in green cold colour. It picks one apple. One the most beautiful apple. The most delicious apple. It is going on that apple. Starts to eat it. It is going inside into the apples heart. And when it's inside, the worm starts to eat piece by piece, part by part the heart. The worm has finished the work. He ate the heart. Other day he went to other apples. Started the same work. The first apple started to putrefy. After a week all the grass is full of ugly apples. The apples which you wouldn't like to take and eat. Full of apples who are just disguisting. . . It is like the people. The people who you want to be friends with, looks for you the best at first. When you meet them and talk to them, soon you understand that they do have nothing except just broken, putrefied heart. And after more time you understand that they are not so beautifull in inside and in outside. The worm is like an epidemy for all human race. You can not read person's mind like an opened book. You can look into the top of the person and decide if you want to meet him or her. But when you know him or her better you can read him or her more like a book, or give it to library, even though you didn't read all that book. If sometimes you go near the lake that is shinning in little green lights and looks so soft, so lightful, so visible. If sometimes you go near the river which is just so quietly, just so peaceful, just going in one line. If sometimes you hear the birds singing on the highest tree with no leafs. If sometimes you want to say: "So pretty. Just so so beautiful". But soon you feel in your body something strange, in your head something different. Like burning feeling. Like the pain. You feel angry. You want to take all the things of you room and throw it. You feel dissapointed. You feel upset. You wanna run to the highest mountain and scream from the top of your lungs. You wanna scream, because you feel like somebody is chasing you with the fire in his arms. You are running. But it runs two times faster than you. You feel the breathing. You are running. Running. Running. You stop. You look around you. And you can not understand why you have ran. You just can not understand why you have ran. You can not feel the pulse, because it just flows. It is just so fast. You sit on the same grass. The sun from the blue sky is shinning so much, like on the summer. The sun before a few hours even made that from all grass the drops of water began to dissapear. You sit on the same grass and you can not understand what had happened. Think again. Nothing had happened. Or maybe something had happened. Think again. Look at the last drop on the grass. You have time till it will dry. Think again. If really nothing had happened?

Contrasts makes the world go round

P.S.One of my favorite artist is Roy Lichtenstein "The girl near the piano". I decided to make a copy of it and post it here. It is very hard job. But I expect to finish it soon.  

In the world there are thousand million contrasts. The black colour looks good with white... The old people get on well with little children. The dancers who are looking very brittle are the most strongest people in the world... For example, if you could imagine a lion... Very very very angry lion it would be nothing if you could compare it with a dancer... The dancers heart is from wood, they are looking very brittle on outside, but if you get know them, they are very strong in inside. Most of the dancers who I know are very angry. I do not know why. I have no idea. They are like tigers. You could never know when they will hurt you. It is not very good. The dancers have fire in their eyes, burning fire. If the dancers is sad, angry and looks to your eyes... Well, after a moment you could die, in a real  meaning of this word. You could die. Their eyes can burn you easily. Make your eyes into the nothing. They can easily burn your heart with words. Probably, it is because you can't expect from such a brittle creature shouting on you, or screaming on you. . . But you could never be sure. You can forget about their angryiness, but someday they will attack you like the tigers are attacking almost dead animal. But you know what? I am sure that dancers are brittle too, I believe it, because people can't be bad or good, it is impossible. People can be good and bad. So I am expecting that dancers are good too, but they are too strong inside to make for good friends notice that. Anyway, even though there are million contrasts here, in the world, they look good together. I think God made it, that we could always be surprised by each day.

Open the heart to the world

It's very sad to see blind child who is showing with little hands to the tree, bird, flower. It is very sad to see how he is touching everything and looks so serious. It is very sad to see how he is touching things and listening to it. It looks like he wants to hear how desk or chair sounds. For me it is very sad. But you know, we are blind. Blind not with our eyes- we are blind with our hearts. We can't see real things. We can see just things which we are creating in ourselves, but we are too busy, too selfish (yes... too SELFISH) to see the world around us. Could you stop for a minute each day? 1...2...3...4...5...6...20... Nothing changed. Your "serious" work didn't run from you. 21...22...23...24...25...26...40... Look around, have you ever saw that blue sky before? Have you ever saw little light wavy clouds before? 41...42...43...50... Listen to the sounds of living: the bird near you is singing the best melody just for you; the dogs are shouting on the cats; the little kid is laughing, because he has got a new red balloon. 51...52...53...55... It looks like God made this Earth for his own pleasant : every flower is in blossom; every part of your garden grass is different from the others... 56...57...60... Isn't the life looks PERFECT when you open not only your eyes, but the heart too? Never let yourself to be selfish. Never!.. Let yourself to notice the world around you, don't let yourself to loose yourself. You aren't lost, unless you stopped with trying. Open your eyes and your heart everyday for a minute and you will see PERFECT WORLD.

The bird is in you

After all, life is nothing more than, the body's state between birth and death. It means life. With all the possible and the impossible balance between what is real and between what is just seems real. That you could fall down you must live. That you could fall down you have to try, walk, jump... You have to spread your wings and start to fly. You have to wave your wings and never give up. You have to BELIEVE in infinity, in the peace. You have to believe and never give up. You are free from the bottom to the top. You are free to do whatever you want. You are free to stand up and shout: I am FREE! Always around us will rage storm which will blows the snow, heavy rain ... Always. This is not something special. It's every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. The ladder on which we stand, it is only ourselves. We  are creating for ourselves a barrier, even though everything around us is just what we were seeing. The life is friendly with people who never tries to understand it, but always plays in the rules created by life. Spread your wings, just spread it! Learn how to feel everything, but nothing. Believe in something and nothing. Do errors and do not learn from them. Dance in the life like a dancers on the dance floor. Forget everything, just forget. Second. Minute. Hour. Everything is missing quickly like an ice cream in waffle cup... Forget everything, please just FORGET!  Take a look back into yours little "ME"...It is similar to what we left: bright, sincere, flighty, sensitive ... Raise it. Lift it up to the light of day, give to it the strength to rise. Give to it the strength to fall down, but always stand up. Give to it... Do not be scared of nothing. All  we can see is none other than our invented a small, challenging and full of problems world. Delete, everything. Now you are strong. Not only from outside, but inside... Now just spread your wings and FLY!

Letter to summer

The days of summer always passes us so fast. There is nothing so magical if you could compare it with waiting of the holidays. Waiting of the summer holidays. This is my painting. The painting for the summer. For all those warm memories and for all those people who I met. 

From this letter colourful, the colour of the eyes. 

This letter flew just like a soul

(and by that time sky just fade away).

 The clouds landed on the tree. 

The water become so wide, and what the deepness of the night! 

But I can not fly, and swim I can't.

 I can not say just nothing. 

The memories it is like the letters are going from the sky...

This is probably the clearest paiting I've ever paint. I thought about nothing while I was painting it. I enjoyed the colours. The smells of different paints. I enjoyed the work a lot. The loveliest memories are in it. My favorite poet's poems are full of energy. Are full of colours, smells, tastes; even the sleeping street in his poetry is full of lion energy; that sleeping street is always ready for the action. I think my paintings are full of it. Because my inspiration is his thinking of life, memories and the poetry. Through the snow and through the falling leafs, through the full of people station, through the sound of morning flower blossom and through the smell of living in the sky. Everything is here, near you, near me, near everybody, just LOOK AT THE SKY; LAUGH; AND FALL IN LOVE! 

The Art of the cooking

The smell, taste, colour. Everything makes my soul sing. Makes my soul clear as a river. The joy of making food for your family or friends it is the best feeling in the world. To put love, happiness into the pan. To decorate it with peace sparkles. This is just the best feeling. To see how the people smiles when they are eating your made food. To see greatfull eyes in their shinny faces. Nothing makes me more happier than it. And if I could pick one smell and one taste before I will die. If the last day of my life I could pick one smell and one taste, I'd certainly choose the cinnamon smell and cake made by my grandmother taste. Because cinnamon always makes me feel very good, very warm, even at the coldest day, cinnamon is the smell of the autumn, the smell of colours and warmness. And my grandmother's cake always makes me go ten years back and remember all great moments together with people I loved and I love now. If you could taste the sky and the heaven, it definetely would be my grandmother's cake. She is the best kitchener. The tea with cinnamon and her cake always makes me think that I live in a wonderful world, full of happiness and peacefullness. I adore it. I am enjoying the life and taking every piece of it. The smells, tastes, flavors- everythings makes me shout; I AM LIVING. Thank you God!