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Tap the app, swipe left or right

… mostly left, who am I kidding?

Mostly for fun but deep inside

Hoping to see something…


Out of the ordinary?


 Isn’t this whole experience

out of the ordinary?

Since when are we so comfortable…

so lazy

That it became ok to look for love

by clicking through a bunch of

pictures and

reading a short description?


Why is the complexity of feelings

reduced to a name, an age and

a location?

Is this a testament to how cluelessly disconnected

we truly are

from the world?


Why is it less socially acceptable

to see someone cute in a café

and try to talk to them…

in person

in the moment

anchored by a genuine spark of attraction

Than to talk to them

After ten minutes of scrolling

On your phone screen?

Why dehumanise such a humane experience?


Are we nothing but an automated

High functioning machine

That’s fallen into a routine:

Work or school


Some friends

And apps…

Upon apps upon apps upon apps

That even love has now become

A profitable business?


“Less time, less investment, more convenient”

– Should that be the phrase defining

Meeting a potential partner

That deserves to see

All your vulnerability

All your darkness and your light

All that… makes you what you are?


Is it just me?

Am I somehow living

In a different century

Unable to fall in step with the times

The norms

The values

Of a modern-day society?


Or are there others

That limp slowly

Through everyday morality

Hoping to find someone

To match their pace

Their thinking…

Just like me?






Trippin’ to Nice…

What is a city for you?

Quite a bizarre question, this one. But if you take a second to think about it, and really go beyond the textbook definition of ‘a place where people live and go about their daily activities’ you’ll find that a city can take on an array of different meanings. A city can be a feeling, it can be a memory, it can mean art or splendid sceneries. It can mean peace and quiet or exciting nightlife. But what’s even more amazing is that a city can take on one meaning for someone and a completely different one for someone else. 

There are many things to be said about Nice, but I’m not here to present a travel brochure or nitpick at every little detail about the place. I’ll talk about what it means to me, what I feel about it, and hope that through my words you will be able to see it in a different light. You’ll notice details that otherwise would be overlooked forever.

Over the last few years, Nice has become somewhat of a wonderful dream to me. From the minute I step off the plane and inhale the salty smell specific to port cities, I feel like I’m floating on clouds of serenity. I would imagine that would be the definition of ‘a safe space’. My worries are always stopped at the border. They don’t have permission to enter.

So I’m left alone, to relax.

 I’ve never enjoyed the sun as much as I enjoy it when I’m there. For some reason, it doesn’t shine as bright anywhere else. This city emanates the kind of energy and creativity of poets and artists from long ago. It’s like it absorbed their very soul and decided to coax anyone who visits to stop, lift their head up and take in the view that became a muse for so many artists. 

As you stroll around the old town’s narrow streets and glimpse the pastel colours of the houses, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been transported into one of those fairy books from the past. It’s cheesy, but who cares when it makes you feel so warm?

Walking along the Promenade des Anglais is by far the best thing to do, any time of day. Walking and actually looking around, seeing all the different people going about their day, living their lives, encourages me to go on myself. It’s refreshing, knowing that there are others breathing the same air you’re breathing, seeing the same scenery you’re seeing, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the stones. If you think about life this way, you’ll never get lonely. And I began to think of life this way only by walking around Nice. That’s when it clicked.

Finally, Nice is my first post in this category and will always hold a special place in my heart because when I’m in this city, I feel like I’m held tight in my father’s arms. I feel like no matter what, I’ll always be protected. Nice is a city he showed me, a place filled with memories of the two of us and over the years, it became a place where we go to comfort each other. 

So I ask again, what is a city for you? Because the answer can never be as simple as “a large, populated urban area”.

A long time coming

All my life

I’ve done all I could

To ground myself in…


Grasp this concept I couldn’t understand;

Shaved of bit by bit of my soul,

Hurt myself to feel rooted in,

When all I wanted to do was float away…

On my imagination

To places no one’s seen before

And no one else ever will.

Until one day, I realised that reality

Is a concept

Socially created to try and explain the…


… That is, the concept of existence.

And I did not fit in their pattern.

That day, weight lifted off,

I turned to bubbles of 

oxygenated happiness,

And I finally understood that reality

Is what I make of it,

And their “normality”

Is such a boring existence…

Sloths pity them.

So, I stand back and finally…


Get on my boat

Sit back and relax

Draw the curtains 

And see

What I’ve been craving to 

For so long…

Moving forward

I think people always wish for a do-over. Secretly, when it’s just them, and they can be honest… perhaps the only time they can be truly honest about anything, they wish for a re-enactment.

The moment they’re alone, on sleepless nights, and all the old tricks in the book are exhausted, all diversions lost or inaccessible, they sit up and trace a deceiving image: “What if this happened instead?”

“What if I had said something differently?”

“What if?”

“What if?”

“What if?”

A whole new story materialises in their minds and, for a while, reality is completely erased and a sense of inexplicable happiness, a sort of peace takes over their consciousness. I’d say that is the very definition of a false sense of security. The mind is, after all, the worst prison of all.

“What if?” is a poisonous beginning of a sentence… when it comes to living, breathing, existing. It has the power to immerse you in a fantasy that can neither be achieved, nor easily forgotten. It can make your insides churn and burn. It envelops you so deeply, you get stuck in a loop of forever wondering how you could bring this fictional event to life, what shape it could have taken, had it been real; how colourful or monochromatic it would have been, and what how others would have perceived it, or said about it.

It is wishful thinking at its finest, and if you’re not careful, much like any parasitic thought, it will consume every ounce of peace from your mind and replace it with the poison of regret.

There is an old saying that goes a bit like this: “May God give you the strength to accept what you cannot control and change what you can.” And that is the advice I’ll strive to live by, from today onwards.

Instead of thinking of life through the dreary, foggy lenses of the past, and tormenting yourself over and over again with bittersweet delusions of “what if’s”, try to start anew. A new beginning.

This life we live, is a gift. Believe it or not, it really is. God, the universe, Karma or a mere chemical reaction, regardless of which one you believe to be true, allowed us to be here. We are presently breathing, we’re feeling, we’re thinking, we’re alive. What a pity it is to spend these precious days and nights stuck in an interminable loop of doubt and fantasy.

Our existence on this Earth is finite, we only get a number of years here, and what happens after, we won’t get to know for sure until we are meant to. A couple of years is barely enough time to fully discover what it means to be alive rather than just existing. Therefore, we cannot possibly waste it wondering how things would have turned out, if we had said something different, taken a different decision, avoided a certain mistake. We cannot wonder if the outcome would have been different, because we will never be able to change it, and it will just eat away at our souls, bit by bit, for as long as we think about it. That is a slow, agonising death for our emotions.

Instead, what we can do is only look ahead, keep that bad experience and let it be just that: an experience, a lesson. Whether you’re in the wrong, or someone else is. Whether it’s heartache or the loss of a treasured friendship, or even something worse. We cannot change that it happened. This life we live is not a fantasy novel or a sci-fi movie; there is no turning back time. All we have is people, memories and lessons. The key is to take everything in and reflect on it. And by reflect, I don’t mean torturing yourself with delusional stories, but thinking of how that certain event can help you grow, how it should affect your future actions in order to change yourself for the better, or be more attentive, or learn how to accept and apologise for your mistakes.

That chapter is closed, the sentence is way past being run-on, and no semi-colon can save it. In front of you, there should be a blank page. A new beginning. A fresh start.

If you keep re-reading the same sides of a book, the words will start to morph together, and its meaning will be lost or worse, turned into something uglier than what it had actually been. And the loop will never end, you will never see what other things you can write down, what else lies ahead.

We fill out the pages of our lives every day, until we get old, and can’t anymore. That should be the only moment we spend flipping back through the book and re-reading the best chapters. Imagine how it would feel if you couldn’t find these chapters because the time you should have spent writing them was wasted dwelling on things you couldn’t have possibly changed.

This is my first blog post, and I thought it would only be appropriate to write about looking forward, moving on. Because this is a new chapter that I’m starting, and I hope I can somehow inspire others to start theirs as well.

I used to feel powerless in regard to my life, to my fate, to my very existence. I still feel this way sometimes, and I’m not sure I could ever get truly get over it. But I’m choosing to try. I’m choosing to stop twiddling my thumbs and think that all I do, could have been done better, if I had had an opportunity to re-do it. That toxic thinking is a self-fulfilling prophecy waiting to happen, and I know I can do better than that. Anyone who tries, can. All we need may just be something or someone to open our eyes, and show us that what happened, the past itself, does not determine your future, unless you give it the power to.

We really are the architects of our own destiny. We decide when to start a new chapter for ourselves.

So, in the moments when you overthink, when you wish for a second chance, for a do-over to change a certain event, remember that you can’t really have it. The only time machines available to us are watches, and they are never going to tick backwards. What we can control though, is what we take from an experience, what we learn from it, and how we can use it to go forward. Start anew. A clean slate. Blank as snow.