Counting the uncountable

A story about time passing by

Driving Cadillacs in Our Dreams

In this empty, Bob Dylan’s music-filled room, the sound of doors being knocked drowns… My sharp ear manages to filtrate the irregular tact that interrupted swinging tune. Senses, now alerted, give me an ecstatic goosebumps, yet I decide to wait for the next characteristic course of action to take its place. Humans and their patterns are easy to…

Confessional: the chase

The first time I saw Maya was in the rundown Camel pub, close to the sugar loaf walk passage. It was one of those weird sights and I surely don’t know why I stopped chugging my Brandi and looked her way. The girl wasn’t anything in looks, yet somehow appeared charming with the way she…