elzazi's mundo

  Ne mérd Hó vagy tehát. Ne mérd magad az esőhöz se szélhez, ne, ne mérd az idő fokát. Eső. Ne mérd magad a télhez, te zöld életet adó magát viharnak, s hónak hazudó, ha hazudó, ám ha kell, hazudva is de tápláló életet adó erő vagy. Szél. Ne mérd magad a szellőhöz legyen bár könnyed legyen a Te könnyed esőt hozó vagy tavaszt, szerelmet vágyat talán. Ne mérd, nem érdemes. Ember. Ne mérd magad, nem érdemes. Gyermek lehetsz, játékkal figyelemmel, vagy felnőtt, ki irányít országot embereket ne mérd magad ezekhez, nem érdemes, Te ugyanúgy egyedi vagy hálás, hogy lehetsz. Gyermek. Játékaidat ne mérd máséhoz mert pont ezért te játékaid azok akik Neked teremtettek: játsszatok. Művész. Ki fest, ki énekel, balladát írogat, ki kiállítást nyitogat, ki könyvét csomagolja össze mert nem kell kiadónak egy se, ne mérd, sikered fokát az idő fogát a művészet ármányát, a tehetségedet, ne mérd. Gyémánt. Csiszolt-csiszolatlan, búvik, meglapul a sarokban, a kés beletörik, de követ morzsára darál. Ne mérd sz

When she picked it up in the second hand’s bookstore, where she was just browsing anyway and had no intention to stay longer, just waiting for her train, she involuntarily grabbed that book. It was thick, its cover has been run down already, couldn’t be seen it clearly was it a street or a house on it? It looked quite interesting, the writer was Maeve Binchy and the book titled as Tara Road . It was about a woman’s life, mid-forty, after divorce – exactly like hers: built up and then crushed down to nothing. She hurriedly took it, paid – almost blushed – how dare she buy a book that relates to her life this much – and left for her train. Only at home she noticed the note on the first page. “Take me to Budapest, to Gozsdu square on August 19th”. That’s interesting. What would an English-speaking book do in the heart of Europe? Anyway, upon returning home, she put down the book and whenever she had time for it, she read a small part or chapter. She quite enjoyed it, she could reflect on

  - Ken-ny! Ken-ny! Ken-ny! – the stadium was on fire. The tanned man was standing in the middle, releasing the tension in his knuckles, waiting for his enemy. - I got you, honey. – As the darkness dropped from the face, Kenny could see that Kiara came forward from the shadow. His jaw dropped… * - Where are you heading to, honey? – Kiara was looking after Kenny as he quickly left their bedroom. - I’ve got some business to do. – said the man in a hurry and Kiara could only hear the slamming of the door then. It was not the first, nor the last night when she cried herself to sleep. Her girlfriends had warned her that this could happen once they got married, but somehow, she forgot about the signs. It was all her naivety, thinking that she can tie down a traveler, thinking that after years of adventure, she could tame a lion and ease his hunger with only offering herself on a plate. She was sure that Kenny is cheating on her – she was sure it would happen sooner or later but didn’t think

  I’m just a usual office plant. I hear, feel, understand people more than they believe. I listen to their conversation all the time. I would listen to my fellow plants conversation but sadly , the other ones were removed or died - less of CO2 and water I guess. It made me sad … but such is life. I guess I am the last one here, so let’s make this story count, as well.   I saw many people. Many who couldn’t say a word, many who was constantly looking at the CCTV, many, who took notes, many, who cursed once the signature pen was out of ink, many who was told to wait, many who was put on hold… but no one really saw me. I was just there, in the background, observing, silently.  Now they’re carrying me away. I can hardly breathe, my leaves are yellow, I know where I’m going, I will be dumped in the trash soon. What is death like? Will i still hear that smooth woman’s voice saying the numbers? Number 4 29 at counter 15. Number 5 32 number 6 33 at counter number 5 at counter number 8. It does