Do you mind if I ask, after we dance If I may sit on your secret thoughts Naturally adjusting my feminine posture To properly match your hand inclination A naked colour body-shaped paper For your fountain pen to touch gently Words pairing in distant parentheses Forming sentences on my lip…

I should have written this letter long time ago. Just to let you know I love you more and more. You know Pessoa smoked every night, on my nightstand, in my first summer here. Just off Pink Street. He kept saying I told you so: “The feelings that hurt most, the emotions…

There are very few places left in this world where you feel more of a traveler and less of a tourist. Iraq is definitely one of them.

I grew up in a very small town in Romania. And as far as I can remember no one ever told me I can be whomever and whatever the heck I wanted to be. Truth be told, no one had to. I have been very stubborn and very determined to…

Spring Letter Since I last saw you, I hope: You loved life in all its marvellous contrasts. I hope you swam naked and felt like a sea monster, in between your thighs. I hope you got drunk and behaved like the absolute child that you are. I hope you ate the prodigal…

Imagine if earth and life as we know it, are nothing but a memory from a very remote past. A tiny speck in the temporal lobe of one giant consciousness. Why would energy want to relive this precise memory? Perhaps because of its unmeasurable beauty? …

My home is at the far end of an overturned magnifying glass. Every now and then something stares back at me astonished. The traveler’s holy grail is to experience a unique kind of loneliness that only a few dare to evoke in their lifetime. The Eldorado of being. …

My mind is a camera which reconstructs events and emotions back into the environment’s DNA. I’m one of the universe’s mailboxes. Some letters I like to share with you. Words are like fireflies. I must be careful how I hold them as they survive in dancing and weightless imaginations only…

Have you ever thought about skydiving? It goes a little bit like this: You start feeling anxious on the way to the airport trying to remember why the funk you’re doing this. You finally get there and sign the death waiver, while going Tony Robbins billboards on yourself: “why live…