What the beast within whispers to you…


Today is another day, worst than the others

Today I am angry

I want to scream

My voice to be heard by you, you, you, you, you, you, you and YOU!

At the other half of the planet

Today all around me useless and without hope

All my dreams ashes

Today I do not know where to put stay, my soul to rest

All black and pessimistic

A melancholia from the abyss of my mind

A hole in my heart


Today I am crying dry tears

For a pain that I can not articulate

An awful pain that does not let me breath

Today some old scars of mine reminds me hurting stories

My all, a broken chord. No rhythm, no melody

The beast inside me is eating my flesh and drinking my blood once again




-How can I placate you my dear? tell me…

– How can I calm you down? Whisper to me the way…

-You are a part of me. Do not forget!

-Let it down, the two of us do not have a battle

-Stop conquering me with your severity

-Should I feed you sympathy and love?

-Should I discipline you by force?

This is the very question

-What are your desires? Trust me your wishes

-You do not fool me. You are the wild me

-Sh…sh..sh..sh…sh… my darling, quiet….

-I will lull you to fall asleep….

Concept / Role-play: Latrakia

Photo credits: Dimitris Tsiapas


Priceless hands!


They give hugs, they touch with tenderness or coarseness, they drive dexterously away the sorrow, they give generously and sweepingly happiness. Occasionally could cause pain, perpetually communicate with their own language.


Vital touches by hands, to my hands, to my body. Unbearable life without hands touching me, embracing me, show me their love! All the special hands of my beloved people. They taught me to share feelings in silence out of the need to talk.


Different types of hands, distinctive kinds of touch. Hands skinny and slender or on the contrary fat and more velvet. Other times rough like stone or fragile and delicate like glass. Skillful hands, sometimes exquisite, others clumsy and graceless, always lovable.


Treasured, small hands from perfect, tiny people…


All my life priceless hands, unforgettable, constantly expressing their idiosyncratic uniqueness!

My granny…


My granny, long snow white hair, smelling soap and cleanness!

My granny, two warm hands always giving!

My granny, a golden heart steadily loving…

My granny, two sweet eyes, sometimes tearing…

My granny, seven years from her loss, still missing…

My granny, cosmic dust in the universe, can you hear me?

My granny, a strong memory never leaves me…

Concept / Role-play: Latrakia

Photo credits: Dimitris Tsiapas

My precious PC – a companion pet or swallowing information!


Give me more pluralism to absorb

Satisfy my ravenousness

Serve me plates delicious

Ready made knowledge, no questions to make

Feed me, upload me, keep me updating!

What is real and what is fake?

What conspiracy theory and what a mistake

How can I break the surface, dig deeper, an active reader to become?

Which sources to use?

Who influences them?

To whom are they subjected?

Who censorships them?


Bits and bytes running through my veins

Another article blows my mind

My hard disk fails again

Restore me, fix me, back up me, keep me alive

Massive information attack

Chance to feed my brain

File me, save me, store me again

Giga and tera mess with my mind

On-line, off-line, share to me more knowledge to swallow at once!


Am I wiser more conscious or naif at the end?

My companion pet keeps playing with my judge…

Concept / Role-play: Latrakia

Photo credits: Dimitris Tsiapas

From the romantic aspect!


Strolling around in Athens

You choose to embellish the ugly spots of the city.

You invest your time, your energy and your creativity to me… The citizen, the unknown, the wanderer. This is the way I feel.

Beyond the glamorous galleries, the famous museums, the widely publicized  exhibitions and far away from patrons and sponsors, you insist to communicate your art through the streets. Your canvas are fragments of cityscapes.


Blooming in the Athenian streets

You transform the meaningless, you find ingenious and imaginative ways to comment on the urban space.

You beautify my strolling around the center-city.

You make me smile or on the contrary to consider.

You make art there, where others see walls and ruins.

You turn the idea into action and that makes all the difference.

You give life and soul to the intangible.


Somewhere lost in Athens

You interpret the social context and remind me to be human in a world that is being changed at light speed and does not allow us to realize and sense the deeper meanings of those changes.

Is it a fulfillment for you? Is it your trademark to the society?

Are you feeling alone in this mad world?

Is it your effort to hush your inner demons? Does it liberate you?

Is it your need to leave your unique way of thinking, to yell for your existence?


Under your lights. Installation someplace in the city center

I witness your art trails. Your vision is a window for meditation.

I wonder which is your daily routine?

Who really are you unknown artist?

I am here to eavesdrop your silent scream imprinted in your art trails.


Do you rock?

At the end of the day you leave your valuable artworks to the noise of the city, to the rain of the sky, to the harshness of the wind, to the negligence of the less observed eye, to the malevolent eye who will call it vandalism and crime, to the silence that falls like a veil every night in a city that never stops moving.

Those shoes… are not mine!

They force me to fit in their size…

But those shoes… are not mine!


They want to make me believe that they are fine!

But I keep insisting, they are not mine!

If I wear them I will be on their side…

A world of promises will sunrise!

To their society’s club first and high!

An excellent android of their type, willing to applaud and cheer for fun!


Those desires are not meant to be mine

Why they try to nail them in my mind?

They press me to wear them no matter what

And if I do so, I will be cosy and styled…


They mouth to wear them so as to be alike

But I keep insisting, those shoes are not mine!

In a world upside down…

I will keep seeing things from my fucking side!

A box in the ground to hide from fears…



A tiny place on the round planet

A shelter for dreams, warming our hopes!

A nest of our hurting ego from daily fights…

A box that we live our lives ’til we die…

Few square meters to feel safe and rest

This is where our vulnerable souls find peacefulness and breath

This is where our bodies shamelessly undress the roles playing outer space


But, oh! my!

Should Ι remember the dark house of yours, which hosted monsters and raised storms?

Should Ι remember the black house of yours, which trapped your innocence and lead you to the loss?

Should Ι remember homeless people, refugee people, immigrant people, who lost their homes?

Like snails they wander in lands abroad


A scream for the loss…

A tear for the pain…

Oh! my home, my sweet-sweet home! How much Ι miss you, Ι metic to world’s throng

Precious keys on a chain

My home keys

Your home keys

A box to open and hide from fears

A box in the ground

A nail in heart’s bleed

They will always remind me the home where Ι used to live…

Concept – Role play: Latrakia

Photo credits: Dimitris Tsiapas