Here I am, sitting in my balcony at the third floor of this greyish apartment. The morning weather is as sharp as a knife, I am wearing a beret. Otherwise my migraine could have kept me busy with pain all day long. There are so many martins passing by before my eyes. They all try to eat from that cherry tree that outstreches in front of my neighbours’ garden on the left side of our apartment. I see the wind undoubtfully. It can be held with hand. It feels as if like it is a substance that you can take a piece of it and keep it in your kitchen storage box.
Now the sun shows herself getting rescued by the wind from all those heavy clouds. Lunch time slowly arrives like a thief trying to enter the house from its secret holes. The balcony doesn’t care at all. Time is not an issue here. No breakfast no lunch no dinner is the essence of life .The construction of a small building is seen on the right side. The workers wear flannels and shorts while I am tightening my black jacket’s belt. They also have a very interesting habit of draping in their flannels up to their chests so their tummies can cool off. I guess they feel the summer is around. But in my biological rythem it is a cruel winter day with a faking sun.
Smoke is more visible during evening coming out of my mouth. Breathing in nicotine so to let it out. Free will to kill oneself. What an orthodox way to cheat the faith or is it? The balcony doesn’t give a damn once again. It lingers here forever. Whether you are here or not, healthy or not, got kids or not, rich or not. The only thing under the dark sky in this very balcony is that it exists and you can participate in the freedom and cool breeze it provides.