..it shall be told about


olive tree of age

….it should be told about, my house has a sorrow, a sorry and a care….it is just, we don’t believe an entire nation’s judgement over the head of a younger man smart enough to escape my custom to go finally believe what all those around tell….for the main reason being gay or something I don’t even know what it would mean to be so has just always been a verdict told around and for who didn’t know the false tricks of the devilish scene….

….what just happened both my pupil here and me myself became the victims of this devil’s custom of a country leaded by some highness which to in the least cannot become so high for me….anymore since I conveyed the reasonings and the games of minister’s wisdoms and chamberlain eyelid’s winks…but please forgive you all I should in this just stay aside the law and cannot follow own but not less justified impulse, for what this massed up mix of motives will become, it’s no one which can know that but my Lord, which once spoke to the prophet in his holy word: …and I grabbed you from out of the dirt and gave you a place under the sun….

street view in Epirus

…but let me say the sun’s shining for everyone and that’s too for free, so what a soja sewing queen for holidays on ice would I then be to judge again for one which doesn’t need my judgement being vain…so I agree, this can be the devil’s ears, this can become the devil’s eyes, and I can feel it is the Christ which takes his chance to change the fallen curtains hiding this society’s stage for this my public’s eye…..I should know better…and my engagement to the public I here delay for just another day….

….laissons nous dire c’est con, ce sont les salot qui vaillent le conte, et le couteau d’esprit qui ne déserve que la main de tailleur propre á la môde, pour nous donner le bon programme d’un rapidement accrodi progrès très hésité avec…..

….and with these words I told you all I know and understand about what’s told to be the illness of my youth, the so-called useless senses of the generations me to follow, the air of boiling potatoes in a screenload filled with mustard and dried fish, and you, I smile, must then think no one’s seeing you….how dare you all to come into my space and to give restless legs to those which are supposed to give you magic answers you cannot create yourself? ….don’t ye see all you cannot make me anything but take away my just and proper rights…. …on income out of work which you already tried/ ….well. know then the person which is writing all this words is very able to give you just the troubles you most fear and start the people just opposing those which bound it to their devil’s ears, for me no game, for you a way you think you can escape, but mind, a memory we all have…..and me, you think the answer is so soft ’cause you are dear, but is it not which is most dear we care the most in hate?

vista in Greece