“The lunatic is in my head...you lock the door and throw away the key...there is someone in my head and it’s not me” Pink Floyd
Who wouldn’t have questioned his life in a place like this?! I can’t help thinking how many sun sets and rises I’ve missed. I recall crying silently as I smoked my first fag in front of the office in Istanbul under the shadow of the Plaza palms.
Who wouldn’t have questioned his life in a place like this?! I can’t help thinking how many sun sets and rises I’ve missed. I recall crying silently as I smoked my first fag in front of the office in Istanbul under the shadow of the Plaza palms.
They were standing there staring at me, reminding me of the fakeness of the life I had, just as fake as their existence in the road sides of the plaza entrance was!
Yet once again I’m identifying my existence with another palm tree as I look out of the window of this bamboo shack on the seaside of this heaven I am at.
This palm hasn’t been carried here by a truck; it wasn’t produced in a green house, has real coconuts and hosts a million ants.
There is no dark side of the moon...it's all dark!
