bosoro

long almost cinematic travel. emotional dialogues. walks through nowhere. the passage to adulthood.

long day. the beginning of summer holidays. weird feeling of abandonment. i'm thinking a lot about human relationships. about communication and interaction.

what does it mean to be a human being ?

what does it take to be a part of human society ?

do we need language ?

do we need ethics ?

do we need an elaborate system of perception-explanations and believes ?

do we need cities ?

i'm questioning myself how much of a human i am. during the long summer days and short summer evenings i see stars and the depth of infinity universe while comparing it to the broadness of my self perception. the way i started seeing human is non-centric, melted into environment, lost in interpretation of self perceptions and overwhelmed by technology. we become something less important that our collective products. so we embraced the idea of production. and overproduction. as an outcome to avoid meaninglessness - the consumption. and overconsumption. now we lost the taste. the inner intuition which were showing us the path of natural sublimation. now we existing in the world without borders. without scales.

what does it mean to be a human in the world without border ?

probably to be able to consume or to produce. so-forth to be a part of human society would mean to be actively practicing both.

but why human societies centered around consumption ?

maybe we can change it if we find the root.

літо мене виснажує. я не знаю як люди живуть в пустелі. здається що кожна краплинка моєї свідомості випалюється сонцем. я стаю схожою на вигорівшу фотокартку яка вже кілька років непорушно висить на дверцятах холодильнику.

long day. dinner with neighbors. hortensia flowers in the garden. evening coffee with chocolates. i'm trying to see through the sadness. maybe i will find something further occasionally. maybe i will evaporate sooner. i feel that my life carries no meaning. or at least not more than a life of a moth.

lost.

I had a dream. I was falling in love. Softly, slowly, inevitably. Just like the flowers of spring turning into summer leaves. I felt truly present. The fourth time we were supposed to meet near the lake on a green field, bombs started to fall on the city. We didn't meet again.

Do people even remember how it was? Talking... long evenings daydreaming of lost ancient cities, golden tigers, poems written on stones.

i miss the world tenderly covered by smoke and dust. fuzzy creation of mystic minds. elaborately crafted from words and tactility.

говоря о чем-то новом. я забываю себя в зимнем пальто. с первыми морозами нахожу случайно. пока роюсь в поисках спичек.