New York 2025

Kids smelling of sunscreen and bug spray, nervous energy in the air, stressed out faces of forgotten dreams in electrified rat race, every brand under the sun and moon fighting for your attention, stunning buildings in front of the ugly ones, so many things to see and feel, but who has time for that, medically sealed apartments filled with artificial cold air, sweaty fit bodies of all colors running through the park, a few smiling faces, all kind of furniture and other STUFF left outside million dollar flats for you to pick up.

So much stuff, never ending stuff, subliminal and very obvious message ‘BUY’ everywhere, mixed up with ‘obey and report’ signs… 

Land of fulfilled wants and shattered dreams.

Every language and culture doing pretty great at ignoring each other.

Tens of miles of books for sale, rare and old, poorly written and praised by New York Times at the same time, letters signed by Salinger and pretty much everything else that was touched by a hand of geniuses of the past. For sale.

Everything is for sale... them, you, me?

I need to get out of here, from this air conditioned nightmare, before I start selling parts of my soul for drugs of comfort.

I used to love you, I really did. I feel as if I’m seeing my first love turning into a heroin junkie, less tragic poetry and more visceral misery of being addicted to feeling alive for just an eternal moment.