We are on the Moon. As a tribute to Ludwig Van Beethoven she comes to play The Earthlight Sonata.
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Είμαστε στη Σελήνη. Σα φόρο τιμής για τον Μπετόβεν, αυτή έρχεται να παίξει τη Σονάτα υπό το Γεώφως.
Τούτο φαίνεται νά 'ναι μια gallery, τροφή για το πεινασμένο μάτι, αλλά είναι απάτη. Στην πραγματικότητα είναι τροφή για το μυαλό, ένα συμπόσιο ιδεών. Αριστοτέλικά "ψυχαγωγώ" σημαίνει "άγω την ψυχή".
Διασκεδάστε, αλλά περισσότερο, σκεφτείτε.
Contrary to what scietists believe, they are made in a machine and are thrown to the sky with the help of a cannon. Night after night the crew is on their posts because the stars die after a full night shinning.
He was calm. You see, the fact that they couldn't communicate had arised problems. Now the others had gone, he was alone and he could work in peace. In a couple of years the Tower would be ready.
The moment in which he' ll decide what to do. For him it's not a hard challenge, after all it's an apple, nothing more. His future is our present. His present to us is a life of suffering.
A creature (half man, half robot) naturally selects. It's not alone, tanks are for backup. Who commands our fates, our lives, our days?
He starts to walk, he wants to leave. But he is tied with a rusty chain. Where? To his unconscious? To his past? To his parents?
Against whom is the game? There is only one set of pieces. The only certain is that when the game is over, the king and the pawn go to the same box.
Strolling with himself, beside him. His self talks to him fervently. What does he say? Is he accusing himself? Is he looking for excuses? Is he a judge or a supporter? When will he be alone again?
In a breath's distance from flowers, she cannot live as she has to, because she is prisoned. It's something that happens everyday to everyone. And then philosophy starts : why me?
There was a time when they erected monuments not only for the heroes but also for them who were not able to continue the struggle. This is what father tries to tell the children but they don't pay attention, playing and enjoying their morning. All of us (the generation of "-isms") what have we given to our children? Why they are so indifferent?
It is sunset and the bottle of wine is empty. Then he dances. Because he is sad? Because he wants to thank life? Because it's the only language he knows to talk to Nature? Who knows?After all zeibekiko is a dance of loners.
In his hand he has a fairy. He knows that tomorrow all this will be a fairy-tale, nothing will remain tomorrow, not even a memory. But, tonight, she is here. And he knows that all he expects will come true. Let's forget about tomorrow.
She knows that she is scrutinised, she must hide nothing of her body, but it's natural. What else is a body for : to be seen, to be touched, to be kissed, to be caressed, to live in. The eye does what it always do : it is hungry.
The most exciting and, sometimes, dangerous of all the voyages. There is no definite destination. You walk and walk and the road is defined by your steps. Sometimes you arrive somewhere. But you are not able to state if that's the end of the voyage. This is our glory and our drama.
And that was a scoop! She will show it at the TV, after the commercial of shoes and before the commercial of autos (a lot of girls appear there). Would it not be better between the commercials of chocolates and sanitary napkins?
No matter how strong and resourcefull, no matter how many soldiers, technology, oil or gold has an Imperium, finally it falls. Each and every one of them have finally fallen. Just like this passes the glory of the world.
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There is nowhere else to stand and speak with the fire. So he does the impossible. After all, dreams are not a pack of impossibilities?
His destiny is to carry the rock uphill and then the rock slides down and he repeats endlessly the same task. It's a punishment from gods. From time to time he stops for drinking and smoking, it's a break. Now the break is over. Tourists have come!
She shows to him the way. It's not something exciting, simply a door in the middle of the sea. Nothing exists at either side. Is there a secret? Is there something behind the door that we cannot perceive? (Dedicated to Dr Niudis Cruz from Cuba)
All we have managed is to have no myths, no fairy tales, no imagination. Science and logic killed all these. Our souls became poorer, what shall we say to children near the winter fire. How shall we move on to life? Naked of all the things with a value.
Entropy counts the amount of order in a system. More entropy, less order. Brain is a machine which creates order. These are its guards. They hunt and kill entropy where they find it.
It was just before love became a sin. The eye have seen them all. The internal eye? Our parents eye? Who knows where the sin came from? Who cares for the origin? The fact remains : love is not free.
Cogito (I think) Ergo (therefore) Sum (I exist). He didn't tell us as what we exist. The obvious is that we exist as thought : a mere act of brain. What about the body?
Does he hunt her or does he follow her? She runs away or she shows the way to paradise? A city, far away, has not a lot of secrets to hide, it's a mere conglomeration of other lost souls.Will their goal will be reached?
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