The autumn has come before the spring as if the universe wants to teach me the ways of the universe and then the pointlessness of it. A...

Dear Ofir, I wonder why you never wrote back. Maybe you never found the time, or perhaps the point of maintaining our correspondence. Either way, I do not blame you, only hope that you had. There were many things I wanted to talk to you about, ask your opinion on, as I firmly believed that you had a way of changing people’s perspective and show the same things under a different light. Alas! In a way, although, I am thankful too. Because if we were to ever cross paths again, I

perhaps our story needs to remain incomplete because as far as I know conclusions denote the end. You say that in your dreams you hold my...

Something like rain, something like poetry is only felt through one’s own skin. I am asked “how do you do it?” I do it out of fear of...

The same particles that make up the river, the fire, the stars, the rose, the moth, and the mirrors make me. How enormous is the realization that I am nature. Nature is God. Self aware, self directed, and self driven. Each particle of me conscious of the course it must take. How different is that consciousness from mine? At what level of consciousness does confusion take birth? How sure are these particles of their purpose? What is the tangible form of thoughts? What determin

I search for peace in silence. In abandoned rooms, in deficiency of people. I wish to sink into emptiness. Nothingness should feel calm,...