I'm back

I've been away on holiday for the past couple of weeks. Spent a very relaxing, refreshing and much-needed holiday in Malta - Gozo, actually. Fun times.
However, I am now back in St A and, let me tell you folks, it is not good here.

(You can say that again)

I will. It is not good here.
Given that I'm still holiday-lagged, I'll talk about, er, stuff in a future post.

Until then, try to keep one thing in mind:

DO NOT, under any circumstances, believe the Braveheart propaganda about Scotland. Take my word for it, ok?

Ye've been warned, arr...


PS: This has got to be, by far, the most boring post I've ever published in my (blogging) life.

The King of Dust

I, the small lamb of God
forgotten in the South, born elsewhere
I know Troy will always be miles away
and beautiful Helen will now be old
I come out into the street sworn to enter
in Sun’s palaces, to be able to speak
the song of the goat with a murderous voice
and to cry afterwards, to disappear in silence

The King of Dust

Years will go by, the wheel will turn
everything will be like it began, everything will be different
I’ll be looking for you in the roads that you roamed but you
will have become a shadow, everything will have been lost
On one night, the Moon will shine crazy
your shadow will spread onto a narrow road
the travels, the friends, the hugs, the kisses
in a world I will enter far away, far away

The King of Dust

From the Year of the Dragon years have gone by
you might not remember anything
but the wheel of life turns eternally
and once the snow melts
you’ll come find me

The King of Dust

Ksylina Spathia - O Vasilias tis Skonis
(Wooden Swords - The King of Dust)

No last orders

Inside my heart, or maybe it's inside my brain, there is a big room. Come on in, take a look around, see if there's anything you like.
It's a big room, with wood on the walls, with big french windows and a view that's completely irrelevant; for what it's worth, it's a sea view, from high up on a cliff, looking out into the ocean. There's a big fireplace in the room, and some old photos up on the walls. All of the photos are of my friends of old, of people I came close to, if only for a while. The room is for my friends. There's a nice armchair for every one of them, worn out but still comfortable. There are sofas and pool tables, there's a bar in one corner with all the drinks we might ever need, there's a phone to order something to eat. There's cheap ashtrays on low tables, there's a deck of cards, there's a backgammon board with heavy chipped counters, there's an old CD player with only one speaker.
There's dust everywhere, and some of the chairs are now as if of marble with the dust of years masking their true colours. The room no longer looks inviting, but I'm still sitting there, saying hello to those that come in and go out. Chairs come in, but they don't go out. Even if the people are gone, there's always a chair left behind for them, there's still a photo of them on the wall. And their favourite drink is still available in the bar. And there's no last orders.