A village falling upwards

Ε βίλατζ φόλινγκ άπγορτζ

(Written in English with Greek characters, as I am doing with my insides)

In your old river 

In you worn river 

Στο παλιό σου ποταμό, στον φορεμένο σου ποταμό

You are here.

They never took the plane.

Memory as a veil and 

Τhe Real, it’s gone. 

Asphalt as a veil and 

The lane is gone. 

I can’t see my Jesus

Δεν βλέπω τον Χριστό μου

‘’Photography is a matter of life or Death’’

• Can you open the front lights of the car so I can see the goats?

• Shhhh, keep quiet, and you will hear the wild boar.

Σουφεκαριασμένοι βοσκοί φυλάνε τα όνειρα μας.

Εγώ φυλάω τον τόπο, όχι ο τόπος εμένα. 

I am tired of explaining myself in programme notes.

My instagram personality collapsed.

Dealing with the carcasses of the social and political product called space: the village, the first carcass.

Drenched, wearing only a shirt, I hugged him.

Sound juxtaposition of Greek letters to English :

α — > a                                               ντ — > d

β — > b                                              μπ — > b

γ — >  wh ( like what wheeze)           γκ — > g

δ — > th ( like then)                           αι,ει,οι — > i, e 

ε — > e

ζ — > z

η — > i/e

θ — > th  ( like threat ) 

ι — > I/e 

κ — > k 

λ — > l

μ — > m

ν — > n

ξ — > x  (like xenophobic)

ο — > o

π — > p

ρ — > r

σ — > s/c

τ — >  t

υ — > i/e

φ — > f

χ — >  h ( like heal)

ψ — >  ps ( like psychosexual) 

ω —> ο