never on a sunday

so suddenly i entered the world of half naked men and dancing queens. the red door, half wood, half metal had age marks written all over it. the women standing by the door smiled, the dj was spinning and so was my head. he was there, searching for his next kissing mate. almost like a vampire. music, makes the people, madonna, gin, t-shirts. the smoke was penetrating my lungs, i smoked too many cigarettes - its almost like that scene from "requiem for a dream" where the sound of the sizzling end of a cigarette burns away as the inhaler drowns with death. a pair of eyes are starring - i feel a hand on my shoulder, music pulsing like drums in my ear.

i exit and i face the rising sun. i walk a few blocks and wonder if we have lost the love. i see K who is on his way to the bar. at 5 in the morning he is perhaps looking for love too. he is a renowed journalist, he writes, he wonders, he wanders. a few degrees lower and some hips and stacks of trash later i get into a cab and sink into the back seat. the city lights are slowly going out - some dogs are barking at our car and the taxi driver swears. there's a hint of alcohol in my driver's breath. the radio plays this song: "...εχεις τα ματια, τα ματια που λατρευω..." and i translate: "...you have the eyes i adore..." my pillow smells of lavender.

summertime.... and the living is fine....

the phone rings and the guys are forcing me to go for lunch. its a normality for sundays, a warm awakening from the parties and the drinking. we go up to the castles and the city is unfolding infront of us. this city is warm and cold at the same time. its hospitable in her own way but she stands proud and cold. she's been hurting for years - i am still drunk form last night. the alcohol is still part of my bloodstream. at the table, there's a barytone, a soprano and a tenor. and me. singing. "...summertime and the living is fine...." we eat, chat, drink some more alcohol. my liver is like a sponge these days. i catch myself looking at this young man with beautiful hair and a refined body like a statue, his girlfriend lossely holding his hand, inhaling this beauty of a scenery with her green eyes. the waiter brings the mushrooms, the stuffed aubergine dish, asks for drinks and smooths his apron. the sun is courageous today. is it mostly because i am lacking courage today? since when is the art of compromising, compromising?!!?