The Living Art Or The Art Of Living


The Living is an art by itself.

I can only wish that The Life comes to me in a form of a real Living one day, concealed and unexpected,

Because, by know, all I have is just a survival, the constancy, day by day.


I’m breathing, therefore I am alive. But I cannot interpret it as The Living.


Living is an Art,

Full of adventures,





And above all,Conscience.


I had all of that in my Life,

But it was so surreal,

Like an old movie in black and white, without color,

With no sound attached.


Waking up every day,

Just to breathe, walk, talk and smile into the emptiness,

Makes my Life just an everyday continuity without the glare,

Without an echo.


Living is an art by itself.


So, are you Alive Or Just Breathing?!


Count me in as a Breathing and Non-existent, Awaiting for a Life to become an Art Of Living.



I Love You/ I Hate You/ I Love You/ I Hate You



I love you when you’re around

I hate you when you’re gone

I don’t know who you are

When you’re not here

I don’t remember you

But when you’re back

You look familiar

I’ll get to know you again

And love you

Vicious circle

Game of angel and a demon.

Wish I could stick to just one of you

Either loved or hated one

Because I’m tired

Of getting to know you

Again and again and again.