In a city where Hello Kitty toys are nowhere to be found,
I think that's just how my city is.
"Order it from Japan!" they say.
But I managed to find a mug
at a Miniso store,
with my beloved toy on it.
I'm certainly not a child,
I just adore this pink creature...

Where do you draw inspiration from?
A paused television screen
showing the northern lights.
If you have money and a sharp mind,
getting into Harvard isn’t hard,
even for a ceramics course.
Oatmeal we eat in the morning,
or sometimes skip entirely.

The unread books that remain,
I believe 2025 will be more fruitful
with more reading.
There’s much time ahead or maybe none at all.
The elders have said:
live for just one day.
Let’s bring theory into practice,
calmly meet self-development.
Fireworks have been banned,
as their noise makes animals’ hearts stop.

It rained.
The cows begin to run.
The owner
slows his steps and thinks
they’ll be waiting by the house.
He enters a small shed
to hide from the rain.
The smell of sweat rises,
what the water couldn’t wash away.
The air is saturated
with the scent of nature.
This is how it is in the summer.
He smokes a cigarette,
it’s pleasant.

In the forest, near the splashes
Of the botanical garden's waterfall,
Our love was seated.
You held my hand,
At the picnic we had spread out,
And we lay in the grass
It pricked us,
Because autumn was already approaching,
And it carried the dry scent
That withered grass always holds.

Our love was probably more childlike,
Something more pure,
Than one filled with seductive emotions.
You would give me a small souvenir
At every meeting,
And in the evening, you would walk me home.

The music I listened to back then
Brings back memories,
Rising once more to the surface.

A child who went to the village,
To a village where mainly middle-aged or Elderly people stayed during winter.

I loved solitude Under the trees
It was my favorite ritual.

Rotten grass was only at the villa, With a strong smell.

A married couple lived nearby, husband would comb his wife's hair in the evenings.

At the end of summer, I returned to the city, with school awaiting me.
My mother would buy me new clothes, I even remember the scent of those clothes.

Rosehips remain on the bushes,
someone sings about God aging.
In the cold winter, I craved ice cream
a mix of strawberry and vanilla.

I’ve weathered crises,
my brain’s convolutions feel heavy.
I can feel the flow of my blood.
An old man sits on a car, dying.

I’m afraid of cars,
afraid of collisions, of accidents.
I drop ice cubes into lemonade;
even in winter, I love cold drinks and food.

My grandmother knits socks for me.
I’m afraid she’s grown old,
afraid of losing her.

The sunset heralds the coming night
in winter, darkness falls quickly.