Good Night
The sky is slowly turning off and the streetlights of the life turn on. its yellowish light light up the gray floor and turns it like gold. So our steps
My music
Surprisingly my music flows free although on tiptoe down uncharted paths to discover sounds and emotions that are inside me and I didn’t know. Harmonies, dissonances, enigmas, new melodies, a
First Christmas exiled
Christmas is coming. A time full of poetry. My parents spent 12 years forcefully separated because of the persecution against Catholics by the communists in Eastern Europe. When they reunited
To a dead demonstrator
My father was a poet and journalist. He suffered a lot during WWII. Almost all his friends and all his brothers died young during those horrible years. He was taken