nostalgia

remembrance of one very talented poet...






we have met in the country of Cyrano de Bergerac...two strangers

I remember the day you went to my room and i made you a cup of tea because you were cold...
making yourself sure we were only two friends and looking at the ceiling we have started to talk about our souls...
I remember you made me laugh when you told me you can touch your soul through your throat.
"What does it looks like ?" i asked out of curiosity
" it is like a cloudlet" was your answer
"Why cloudlet?" i asked with surprise ...and with my eyes shut and with a little smile on my face i had continued... "My soul is like a sunshine...bright...and warm...and yellow"








"What colour is your soul?"
"Red."
"Why red?" i could not help my self
"Because there are thousand burning roses underneath."....



















I did not say anything but one thought ran over my mind...i am falling in love...

and i remember the day when i had opened my door and you were behind...
"So what is going to happen if we will become more than friends? You know i have to go back... "





















you know the answer now, dont you?
all words that make a poem the colours that make a painting the dots which make the most beautiful music...it is a reflection of someones feelings...
it comes from ones heart...
... to be part of it and touch someone´s heart that is an unforgettable gift that we could give to eachother.

Anjelik môj

Anjelik môj kde lietaš
že pri mne blízko nestojíš
keď si so mnou žiaru nevidíš

kto vie jak vôbec vyzeráš
akú máš farbu krídel
možno si vzduch a vánok náš
myslím že aj tak viac podôb máš

buď chvílku búrkou nádhernou
pohlaď mi líca dažïom
jak malá iskra preleť tmou
všetko ti poviem – si anjel môj
jak malá iskra preleť tmu
všetko ti poviem – si anjel môj


môj anjel z neba padá
hladká ma kvapka za kvapkou
už nie som smutná – viem je so mnu

môj anjel lieta nado mnou
je strážcom mojich krokov
ja viem že vždy rád priletí
viem že sa v dialky snáď nestratí

môj anjel lieta námestím
je strážcom mojich krokov
ja viem že vždy rád priletí
keď sa mi z tváre smiech vytratí

ja viem že vždy rád priletí
keď sa mi z tváre smiech vytratí

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea. A mile from shore a fishing boat chummed the water and the word for Breakfast Flock flashed through the air, till a crowd of a thousand seagulls came to dodge and fight for bits of food. It was another busy day beginning.

But way off alone, out by himself beyond boat and shore, Jonatan Livingston Seagull was practicing.

why Jon, why? his mother asked. Why is it so hard to be like the rest of the flock, Jon? Why can´t you leave the low flying to the pelicans, the alhatross? Why don´t you eat? Son, you are bone and feathers...

I don´t mind being bone and feathers mom. I just want to know what I can do in the air and what I can´t, that is all. I just want to know...

It wasn´t long Jonathan Gull was off by himself again far out at sea, hungry,happy, learning...

amour...

Si tu veux chanter l´amour,
Prends un luth, prends un violon,
Mais ne dis rien.
Les mots sont trop petits pour chanter l´amour.
Il est grand comme la vie et la monde.
Rien n´est plus grand que lui.
Si ce n´est Dieu.

curious?...chez nous

fighting about our territory with my daddy...


and that is the way that we make an espesso in Moravia










but some values stay invisible to the eyes...










after one night staying in a french park where my stubborness brought me and after my awakening in the ward Psy D where a depression left me i do appreciate my homeland more

and i know that some angels still exist...they are known as MY FRIENDS

at home...

one of our three dogs that is very stubborn
and does not like publicity...he is my favourite one














nevertheless he likes to give me a kiss...














a blue sky above my head and the trees in
our garden is one of the best therapies for
me














no it is not our swimming pool...
i just love the reflections in our little artificial lake














me and my daddy...
it was him who i was calling during my moments of fear...














there was also another man and another dog who i was calling and hoping they would find me...but the way of our life is very different...that is why he never could hear my call...and never looked for me...

a last night in France

at the moment nothing to add... i am a bit sad

waking up in the ward PSY D....

the most frightening voyage...