No storm lasts forever
You can always look for shelter
Find a warm place to treasure

No storm lasts forever
You can always change your clothes
Ease your chills from the tempest's throes

But when the storm is in your heart,
it doesn't matter where you run to
You'll be staring at cloudy skies
Until the last piece of you fades inside

Not for all
Be careful not to look into the devil’s eyes
boldness might get you trapped
Eternal search for light
She gets burnt everyday to feel alive

You believe her steps will be impaired
by ordinary masks
Don’t be deceived,
she’s been through the enemies’ lands
and made a trophy out of scars
She's been too far

Now she knows the road
and the kind of you who don't honour her code

She holds the truth
Locked in her chest
You can’t break through
Her fort is for guests
Her soul is dressed
armoured by cast
steel

The most beautiful moon is impossible to gaze at.
For it almost touches the horizon, covered by our tall walls...
Those who don't have walls are vulnerable

And when we're vulnerable,
we                  

become the moon,

'Cause the most beautiful moon is impossible to gaze at.

I'm eager,
To rip you off my chest
With all the bleeding that would come with that
While I looked at the clock,
Slowly turning until it stopped.

Until it happens,
You'll be gripping the walls of my mind with your dark fingernails

The timeless sound of buzzing, sap and tweet
Winning over the rushing clock of Athens' heat
In the garden, souls rest their busy minds
while
the birds
and insects
make a mess of sounds with the wind

When some humans peacefully disrupt the humming for a second,
my mind goes to the clouds.
From where I see the character...
a chubby black bird playing with dry leaves on the ground. Or...is it looking for something? maybe a lost bright feather
to regain self confidence. In vain.
Cause little does it know what's not safeguarded can't remain.
I pity it for a while as my eyes take up the sunbathed trees
and the little creature gets even closer to me.

...Here's to say that if I've ever accomplished something in life,
that is not posing a threat to a chubby black bird in its pursuing rite.

and the spectacle background,
Grasshoppers, waxwings, dragonflies, swallows and bugs
try desperately to be successful in their appearance. But they need to resign themselves to their beautiful lack of musical coherence.

I'll get down from the clouds,
say goodbye to my courageous little friend
and head to thousands of years ago.
Good luck with your feather, bro

                    ...Well, maybe it was just looking for food after all.
                we, humans, tend to complicate everything when                we have our minds in the clouds...

The perfect union of the warmest sun and the most refreshing wind. Smiles of strangers, now familiar faces. Five minds and hearts, five vibrations and colors, an indistinct rainbow as travel companion. Life of self-absorbed villages in Kriti's heart, an old man sitting out the bar. Fast moving eyes, eager to get every single branch of olive trees passing by... and the leaves falling behind as a continual green stripe between the light brown soil and the sky. Rawness that bites our senses and leaves us a fragment of itself without losing its eternity. Greetings from the insignificance of our moment compared to the landscape's symmetry. And yet, for us, those minutes are sealed into mortal memory. Poor leaning trees, beat by the ceaseless wind that blows in the veins of the giant island... Spectacle of colours and shadows of a sunset surrounded by hypnotizing hills. Astros gradually showing off... first is the crescent moon and its perfect curves contrasting the dark blue/grey/orange skyline... then a lonely star whose brightness outshines alone, until the grey and orange decline. And only then, with the sun long gone, and your heart in your mouth, you understand why the trees were leaning down south.