Secret journey on the Orient Express

Had a tour of this lost gem on my birthday! Orient Express; another abandoned ghost train, all rusty and decayed situated on an active rail site where a lot of trains pass by. Some magnificent details of decay on wood and fabric. Haunting corridors revealing the mystery of another time!

Advertisements

False lovers

fighting souls

fighting souls

Without compass inside a handmade city

The skin you live in tears you apart with no pity

You rent kinky spectacle for curing your childhood trauma

You are the heartbroken servant of your inherited karma

You let the python of your generation swallow your soul

You bang your head once or twice against the wall

Your heart gives a leap when you hear her sexy voice

She is calling you, she is haunting you, it’s not anymore your choice

She is soft and warm like candy watering your mouth

Sparkling and shimmering like white magic from the south

A white widow building her web around your eyes

An ephemeral sunshine melting your polar ice

Your pockets are empty and your dignity is sold

Your magic elixir is running out, you are cold

Your heart is barefoot in the forest of horrors

Your face is a canvas of mixed-up colours

You are lost in the dyne of freezing motion

She gives you her hand, she brings back the emotion

You are together again, you can fly

You can take her in your arms and you can lie

You are lovers of apathy and fear

Heroin is all you chose to have my dear

And you are gone once again

Far from here, in your world

To some place I know

buried_city.jpg

buried city

Rubbish bags all ripped off, concrete walls with dark signs on, the sound of a beer can crushed inside the palm of the punkie teenager, idle footsteps of some hectic neighbourhood stranger. A motorbike parks itself in some dusty city slum, weak streaks of moonlight unlock one of its many paths. It always felt unusual but nice.

You were there again.

Wandering around the small turns of this urban labyrinth, charmed by the echoes of an unfound mystery rhythm. As an urban flâneur, your only guide is your feeling, your only way in and out is your nerve. It provokes and inspires, it is a glorious metropolis in decay.

The sunlight sets fire on your path. You get to see them again, wandering lost and found at the same places, beggars of their own destiny. They stink, they shout, they are crazy they say but you so much want to touch them, they are all so real and safe.

But you keep walking never daring to turn your head to their side, this appalling guilt that scratches your golden inside. You keep walking, sweaty worked out hands give you warm bread, old man with beard spits on your name.

You keep walking.

Old ladies, two of them uncoil their morals in a morning chat, you hear a couple of words or one. There is sun, so much sun.. you need sunglasses, they are your only protection against the spasm of the public realm. Warm grey sunshine, untuned mind.

Meat choppers tik takking and you weigh your lies. Hostile looks and trembling hands, the sound of your coins will nourish his heart. Lost fights with life, headless statues on time. Up and down, shaking hands, exchange is done.

Nighmarish parade of some gypsy kids with chaotic smiles, this city is lost in an accordion’s sound. Insignificant melodies of a young little man, swallowed by the charm of this beautiful smile. Sprayed on the surface of some debris in the street, it demarcates the beyond and the within.

Your heart is squeezing and your inside is freezing, this lava fills you up, your mind is about to crack, stark naked as a tyranny it messes up with your wounds while promising a therapy to all those she could.

Look long enough to see, it is an abyss, a lie, a beauty, a we . It is Athens.