Slim Vogue

I miss the kaleidoscopic blur of the stations.

The smell of the dust deep under.

The thrill of going up the escalators…

Wishing to see you first before you see me…

Morning London.

And London at night…

Early rays of light on our faces

Flashing lights of the night cabs…

The sleek Canary Wharf.

The majestic Hammersmith Bridge.

The long walk.

Cliff-hangers of conversations

Reading in between the lines…

Hushed voices.

Fingers through your hair.

The smiles.

The gazes.

The sweet champaign kisses.

The salty tequila bites.


The Moet

The Bollinger

Broken ice cubes under our bare feet

The bitter Red

The kitchen desk

…Gasping for air…

Long nights, that betray us with the first rays of the sun…

Closed blinds.

Open blinds.


Awkward too-silent mornings.


Each other.

And more coffee…

How could there be an album worth of mental pictures in my head?

And I hate reminiscing… But that’s the only thing I’ve been doing…

Slim Vogue

Radiohead on repeat…

And very soon we’ll be walking on different pavements, crossing different roads, open different doors, smile to different people. And because we hate good-byes, we rush into them. Torture each other by prolonging it…

And we won’t be able to hold hands anymore, living off the magic of the sleek digital wizard, that has become more sacred than the book of Bible…

April, 2016


One Morning

When the Tube map becomes a sky full of stars – that guide you, when the traffic lights are signified by the sweetness of the lips and when coffee tastes better with the bitterness of a cigar… Then you know – those walls are lying in ruins…

March, 2016

Mercury in Retrograde

Some days are foggy. They cloud my mind and blur my eyesight. But what do you expect, it’s London…

And it takes very little to levitate and tiptoe on the tops of the scattered clouds again: the voice, the laughter, that cheeky snap.

Life is extremely complicated in its blunt straight-fucking-forwardness. How gently it scratches and bruises you with the caresses and touches of those iron gloves.

And I don’t really know if that’s Mercury in retrograde or the Moon in a tail-spin or the cross-roads at Holles Street have our fates written in advance. But I do know from that millisecond that is called life, that from time to time the material becomes immaterial and vice versa, and that one firm thought creates a whole new reality.

And every time I look up at the night sky those flashing lights wink at me, lighting up the path, one step at a time…forward…

May, 2016


Even now, if anyone ever asks me to describe London, I will only be able to describe it at night. Only at night it truly comes to life. Black ink injected skies, orange lights of cabs, dim shimmering of lampposts. “Take a left there and then right”… New perfumes, cigarette smoke, a smile, vodka, martini, flashing lights, another smile, a gentle touch. And sunrises. Sunrises! Over the Blackfriars, over Putney Bridge, over Waterloo Bridge. My longest and most committed relationship is with you, London.

Sometime in 2017

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