Psychic retreat is most of all about freedom, it is an intimate retreat into the unseen life, into an unlived life. Poetry is away of digesting the world, of recycling and growing a subjectivity that found a home into a foreign language. To give voice to one's thoughts, feelings, and dreams was so dangerous behind the Iron Curtain,where the author was born and raised. Poetry has become a vital habit, asafe space for a self who meets the world with wonder, pain, delight, fear, with curiosity and passion.You float like an enchanted nebula in my mind,pass like the clouds inside my veins,are the easiness of breathing in my dreamsyou forget me for millions of seconds in the imaginary timeyou are more real than reality itself in your spontaneous combustionso that I destroy you each day inside my bones,I ignite the narrative of dawn, the blueness of your ribsI forget about you like I forget crying in the aliveness of loversI need to forget you like one forgets faraway explosions, storms andmiracles because I love you with all the songs of the wind,the wind that spreads the seeds further away from each other thesame way the flow of mystery so precise is caring us further andfurther away towards ourselves

Psychic retreat is most of all about freedom, it is an intimate retreat into the unseen life, into an unlived life. Poetry is away of digesting the world, of recycling and growing a subjectivity that found a home into a foreign language. To give voice to one's thoughts, feelings, and dreams was so dangerous behind the Iron Curtain,where the author was born and raised. Poetry has become a vital habit, asafe space for a self who meets the world with wonder, pain, delight, fear, with curiosity and passion.You float like an enchanted nebula in my mind,pass like the clouds inside my veins,are the easiness of breathing in my dreamsyou forget me for millions of seconds in the imaginary timeyou are more real than reality itself in your spontaneous combustionso that I destroy you each day inside my bones,I ignite the narrative of dawn, the blueness of your ribsI forget about you like I forget crying in the aliveness of loversI need to forget you like one forgets faraway explosions, storms andmiracles because I love you with all the songs of the wind,the wind that spreads the seeds further away from each other thesame way the flow of mystery so precise is caring us further andfurther away towards ourselves