They say that we travel the world to search for what we need, only to come back home and find it. After a long time away I came to visit what I used to call home. It’s the place where I was born and where I grew up. The place that fostered me but which I outgrew as my wings developed.

My timeline starts in the small town of Slobozia. It’s located in the South-East of Romania, the flat part of the country which is mainly covered in crop fields. Argiculture is the fuel that keeps this little town going. Asside from that and a few pubs there’s nothing much to do arround here. It’s a pretty quiet place, were everyone knows everyone and where nothing ever happens. Or at least it’s how I remember it now…

My parrents divorced when I was young shortly after my mother went to work abroad. I lived with my father until I was fourteen after which I decided to move to Spain and live with my mother. I resided there for two years, in Coslada a small city located only ten mins away of Madrid. Still a small and chill town but with a lot more posibilities than Slobozia.

One summer break when I came to visit my home town, I fell in love with a girl. So much so that I decided to return to my brithplace after two years of living in Spain. My mother was curshed. I didn’t care, I was in love. Shortly after I moved back, I found out that my inamorata was cheeting on me. I was crushed. She didn’t care, she was in love. My revolution was for nothing. Here I was in this boring little town again, feeling more and more like a stranger.

The following year (and a half) I finished highschool and moved to Bucharest to study. My university path did not last long as I dropped out in my second year. I then got a job and shotly after I started my first mature relationship. That marked a moment of profound tranformation, a sort of remembering of who I really was. I started walking that path almost seven years ago and I’m still walking. I’m still discovering myself, still pealing off ego layers.

Last summer we moved to Utrecht, a very pitoresque town found in the rainy lands of The Netherlands. Change brings change and after six years of being together, me and my better half deicded to stop being a couple. We lost each other but found ourselves again as borther and sister.

Like any mango person it did not take me too long to fall in love again. It took me even less to crush and get crushed in return. I’m the optimist, I get burned and heal fast. I don’t look back and I’m allways up for finding the next big thing. Not this time. Not anymore. I wanted to continue my path but lost all frame of reference. Same as any lost person would do, I started drawing maps in the sand figuring out directions for myself.

There’s so many places I want to go. There’s so many experiences I want to taste. Wait. Do I? Really? Not that much. Only after losing everyting I realzied that I don’t want anything anymore. I never wanted it to begin with. The only place I ever wanted to go, was home. Although I had many places I called home, lived in multiple families, I never was home. All this adventrue seeking and soul searching was that of a kid trying to find his way.

Home is not where I was born nor where I grew up. Home is not where I’m living now nor where I want to go next…

Home is where my heart is, so I come to you.

Days of weekends past

Screenshot 2019-09-07 at 14.18.07

We’re not hungry, not that much

Sleep for breakfast, sex for lunch

Then we roll one on the couch

Rainy days typcal Dutch

Now, I feel your tender touch,

Moving gently on my crotch

Then you feel a rising heat

As I wrap between your feet

Those stains are not mayonaise

We get messy when we blaze

Broken glasses on the floor

We’re not gentle anymore

Going deeper as we rise

We’re stargazing in our eyes

Culminating in the sky

This is how we learned to fly

We are so fucking high …

If I were a machine


I wonder, I wonder… If I were a machine, would I be a good one? Would my performance, design and build quality make me as appealing as your favourite gadget? Probably not. But why do I think so? Is it because I don’t live up to my hardware specifications or the user expectations?

What is it exactly that makes a machine great? To answer this question, I did an internal analysis. Based on the data collected after probing my systems, using an introspection tool, I will be able to see why my I’m reporting a low overall rating.

My hardware is pretty decent, nothing is missing, it’s not that old and everything seems to function in normal parameters. It’s not the most technologically advanced piece of equipment, but it’s still above average and even close to some high end models.

After checking the hardware maintenance logs, I see a decline in upkeep frequency and an increased usage of overclocked components. What was curious to see was the overclocking was not done to resolve a high load of processes, but to cancel out some processes that were not responding to root commands. There are no critical warnings so far, but failure to maintain a proper configuration will result in long term hardware damage.

The look and feel got positive user reviews. Some users reported that it looks better than it actually works, other mentioned that they would change certain features or that they preferred features from the previous model which are not available anymore. But the general feedback collected from the user interaction logs is considered to be in the optimal range.

Looking at the software logs, the story is completely different. At a first look everything seems to work just fine, however a closer inspection has identified multiple problem areas. In general, there were far too many processes open which were causing a critical load on the entire machine. Most of the processes are not even required, but remained open in the background as a result of bad security management.

There is one process in particular which received full access without passing any security checks. The user who has input it had no security clearance either. In a very short amount of time, this process which was initially running in the front end became a daemon process. It then began multithreading occupying all the available free memory and processing power. Once it had no more resources to feed on, it started killing other system processes so it can free up some more resources. Ultimately, the system’s resources were fully occupied by this daemon process, which was putting such a high load on the system but wasn’t returning any output. It just kept on going on and on, until it became an infinite loop.

Although not in plain sight, the software plays an essential role in a machine. The hardware without software is just an empty cold box. It may look like a million dollars, but it will just be worth the space it uses in your house.

System failures are a good source of improvement. If you don’t see what’s wrong for yourself, they simply crash everything. The good part is that once everything is down, your full attention and energy will be directed towards solving the problem at hand.

Interpretation for non-geeks

What I mean to say with all this geek crap, which is my weird way of describing  and coping with emotional disorder, is much more simple and concise.

There are very few things in this life that actually deserve my attention. There are even less that deserve my affection. Out of those even less make a connection. Only few connections are worth-while and hardly any are for life. Everything else has no importance, it’s just white noise.

“(…) life is bitter and sweet

choose wise who you will meet

it’s better to make your journey feel good

that actually getting where you should

because life’s too short

to walk in shoes that hurt”

slow breathing

The point of no return


I reached a crucial moment in my life, a point of no return. With every step I have taken and each choice I have made, I came closer to where I am now. In the middle of nowhere, completely lost, I wonder the desert of my soul while running in circles in the maze o my mind. Only three possible outcomes may this journey have. Evolve, lose my mind or die. My own, perfectly designed, natural selection.

It’s 7:30 am and my alarm clock starts, I have to wake up. I don’t feel like showing up today, so I snooze it. I snooze it and skip my morning routine to again snooze it a few more times. I finally decide to go out of bed. It takes me a while but in the end I’m on my feet. On the floor, I see a rainbow coloured string.

Curious, I pick it up and follow it. Even more strange is that it crosses the entire room up until the door. I open the door and see that the rainbow coloured string continued. At this point I am really intrigued and make it my mission to get to the end of it.

I start collecting the string by rolling it in my left hand. Going down the stairs, I continue my journey. I finally reach ground floor and notice that the string comes from the basement. It continued down the stairs until the last room which was dark. Probably the light bulb had burned out, turning the light switch on did not work. I turn on the flashlight of my phone and make my way into the dark room. The string takes me yet to another door which I did not know was there. Opening the door, I discover a long  and wide hallway. It was lit by torches on each side. It was so long that you couldn’t even see the other end.

I continue to indulge in this bizarre trip of mine and keep on following the rainbow coloured string. I lose notion of time and space but continue my journey. The string I was collecting in my left hand got so big that I started rolling it on the ground, like a football. At some point, I don’t know if it took a long time or just a few seconds, I reach the end of the hallway. I find myself in front of a huge door. Once I get closer to it, the door starts opening by itself. Inside, there was an immense room, with pillars shaped like men bearing the weight of the ceiling. The room was filled with strings of all colours, shapes and sizes. Everything is tangled together in a massive… mess.

Am I supposed to untangle them all? I might go crazy before I get to the end of it. I might die before I get to the end of it…

Should I just forget all about it? Just go and close the door behind me. Why not?

Why can’t I let go? Why do I have to choose?

It’s 7:30 am and my alarm clock starts, I have to wake up. I don’t feel like showing up today, so I snooze it. I snooze it and skip my morning routine to again snooze it a few more times. I finally decide to go out of bed. It takes me a while but in the end I’m on my feet.

Where’s the string… ? There’s no string on the floor, but I know realise what my dream meant. The sting is a symbol for choice. I chose to follow inwards, to my core. There I found the collection of all the choices that I have ever made.

The man shaped pillars holding the ceiling on their shoulders are a symbol for the burden of my choices. Each pillar represents a mask I wore at some point in my life. Each mask wearer now carries the burden of his choices.

“ Every path is the right path. Everything could’ve been anything else. And it would have just as much meaning.


Choices … We cannot go back. That’s why it’s hard to choose. You have to make the right choice. As long as you don’t choose, everything remains possible.”

– Mr. Nobody

P.S.: But isn’t not choosing also a choice? …. Ahhh fuck it, I’m going to lose my mind over this.

El escribo


Lejos, más allá de que la mente puede imaginar

Había un planeta que dejo de girar

El lugar donde el tiempo no se puede escapar

Y la luz del sol no se puede acabar,

Sin noches, sin soñar

Solo día, sin terminar…


En este lugar mas extraño vivía un escribo

Maldito a estar siempre vivo

Escribía sobre la vida que no tuvo

Amores que se imaginó,

Un sueño que se desarrollo,

Solamente en su texto

Escrito mil veces más infinito

Con lápiz de grafito

Tantos libros ha escrito…


Hasta siempre sigue así

Como yo pienso en ti



The departure


I stabbed myself today, a deep stab in the heart

To numb the pain away, of having you apart

Looking at the blood, dripping from my chest

I contemplate the mud, the place where I will rest

I grab the knife again and twist it in the wound

I want my life to drain and go into the ground

The only thing I know, the only thing that’s real

The thing I can’t let go, is the pain that I now feel

What have I become, a man without a soul

My time here is done, I’ll crawl into my hole

Going in the ground, my heart will cease to beat

No more beating sound, only bones and rotting meat

Deep beneath the earth, my feelings disappear 

They are only worth, the ending that is near

The only thing I wish, before I rest my eyes

The only one I cherish, the reason for my cries

The only one I know, the only one I feel

To have you in my arms, a dream that once was real





From the happy corner of my soul,  I have made a bubble

It’s fragile but it’s whole, until it begins to crumble…

We knew it was trouble,

That it will all come to be, a puddle of bubble rubble

But we smile and dance to our imminent sorrow

We dance like there’s no tomorrow

As this world comes to an end

I’ll be here to hold your hand

Choose your ending and then

Choose beginning again


From the happy corner of my soul,

I have made a bubble…

I mold it from the puddle and ruble

Of the previous bubble

And now I wait, mark time for it to crumble

The maze


“Grab my hand 

My friend, my lover

Let’s make these times

Last forever


– M. M.”

Today you took my hand and guided me into your maze. This is your most sacred place, which guards over secrets you don’t want to share with anyone. It is not a closed place. It is not locked nor does it have a fence. No one is guarding over it. There’s no need to. All that went in before me, only came to find cold empty walls. I think you saw something in me, this might be the reason for guiding me in yourself. You never did this with anyone before.

It’s not the first time I go inside your labyrinth. I ventured in time after time, ever hungry, ever thirsty for a glimpse of you. I used to go in almost every night after you fell asleep. I haunted each corridor like a restless insomniac. Some mornings you would find me there, lost, sleeping in a corner.

Sometimes I found small rooms filled with tiny marbles. Each marble is a piece of your soul, you told me. Other times I found huge underground chambers, which were dark, cold and wet. Little icy drops were falling from the ceiling. You told me that this is the part of you that always cries.

This time is special. This time is different, I can feel it. You felt it before me. I give into you and walk into your footsteps, gently holding on to your hand which is in turn gently holding on to mine. I stop at the entrance and take of my clothes as a symbol of going in empty and pure. We walk and walk. We keep walking, we go deep. We reach a place where there is no more light, pitch black. You took out a marble from your pocket and the marble started to glow into the dark, almost like a candle. We continue walking until we reach a pit. You tightly grabbed my hand and warned me not to go close as I might get sucked inside. You told me that this is where you keep all the sorrow that I have caused you. My heart starts pounding, my hands are shaking, my mouth goes dry and I immediately start to cry. With every tear I felt a fraction of your pain. Little spears piercing my heart with every heartbeat I took. The more I cried the bigger the pit grew. I wanted to jump inside so I get consumed by my sins but you grabbed my hand harder and took me out. I fell to my knees and asked for forgiveness. You pulled me up and hugged me into your soul.

I am so ashamed that it hurts to look into your eyes. You wipe out my tears and kiss my forehead. “Let’s go, I’m going to show you something else. We suffered enough.”, you said. I smiled and follow you grabing even harder on your hand. After a while we reach a big empty room. To me it all looks like a dead end and for a moment there I think we are lost. “We are not lost silly. It’s my maze, remember? … Come there’s a secret room.” You whisper something which I did not understand and tell me to close my eyes for a second. “Now open them! Voila!”

I open my eyes and the last thing I remember is bright lights and a warm feeling in my chest. I find myself in your bed, wrapped inside your arms.

“What happened?” I asked with a confused look on my face.

“You fainted. You got so overwhelmed that you fainted once you opened your eyes. I think it was a bit too much for you. I know you are curious to discover me, my love. But we both need time. You need it as much as I do.”

Time is all we have, let’s make these moments last forever.



Love is dead


stefan-voggenauer-1912539-835210279839536-2113169045-o.jpgLove is dead. God is dead. When there is no more love there is no God. A gradual decline into disorder. No meaning, just chaos. Random processes of cause and effect, action and reaction, until the end of time. An endless series of events looping to infinity.

Love is dead. Humanity is dead. All there’s left is simulation. The art of simulation, the curse of the living. Let us dance the dance of the dead and indulge in this massacre of the soul. Let us drink the pain and eat the sorrow. Let’s inhale fire and exhale ice.

What’s the point in resisting anyway?

“The universe will expand, then it will collapse back on itself, then will expand again.
It will repeat this process forever. What you don’t you know is that when the universe expands again, everything will be as it is now.
Whatever mistakes you make this time around, you will live through on your next pass. Every mistake you make, you will live through again, & again, forever.
So my advice to you is to get it right this time around. Because this time is all you have.”



The last act


How can I hurt someone who I love so much? It’s a question that will forever haunt me, a loss that consumed us to ashes. Worthless words, typed with numb hands, by a wimpy kid. It’s all I have left, empty symbols side by side which try to cobble together what I feel now. I wish I could rip it out from inside and gift it to you. To burn it if you may…

It’s a dark moment in life when you wish not to be anymore. Just to vanish, *spoof*. Just like that, like nothing happened. To disappear into nothingness. Never to come back, leaving just a memory behind. Leaving all the mess behind, all the people you touched and, of course, all the people you hurt. All the guilt and all the sorrow, all the tears and all the hope, all the despair… Dump all the hate I have for myself into nothing. Becoming NO THING. That would be such a relief… but being a coward is always easier.

Lying is the talk of soulless men. Men with no guts to face the music of life, selfish cowards. I convinced myself to wear a mask, to hide my true face. I chose to walk the path of the weak disguised as a knight in a shining armour. An armour that was supposed to protect me, but I was actually rotting from inside.

When I was seven, my mother left to work abroad. I come from a lower middle class family and that that was a way to build a better future. Although I never judged her for leaving and although in the end things worked out somehow, I was never the same. It was such a hard thing to cope with, this feeling of abandonment, that I created a mask. A persona if you may, which would protect me from ever being abandoned.

This chameleon would change colours and even shape-shift based on every type of social situation. It would to the dirty jobs for me, a sort of internal symbiosis of selfs. It was a good run, so far so good. But what happens when your mask turns against you? What happens when it gets so blurry that you forget who you are? Who am I?

Pealing off this mask which stuck to my face as a second skin, I find this little boy again. The kid who felt abandoned when he was seven. He’s sitting on the edge of a sidewalk, with his head bowed down playing with a stick in the dirt. He looks hopeless and doesn’t even notice my presence. Or he does but he doesn’t care. So I sit beside him, as a sort of camaraderie-ship. At first I don’t say anything as he doesn’t seem to want to be bothered by anything or anyone. So I sit there for a while so he gets used to my presence. I know if I just talk with him and ask him what’s wrong he won’t answer. So I start acting silly. I really do my best and put a lot of effort into it and eventually after some time, I steal a first smile. “Ok, so you can smile.” And then he smiles back again.

He doesn’t know who I am, but I know him very well. He feels downhearted, alone and scared. He’s not easy to show himself to me as he’s afraid that the nice stranger making funny faces might also leave him. So I stick around for a while and play with him. My heart doesn’t allow me to give him a reality check. How could I possibly tell this kid to suck it up. Just give him a shoulder tap and tell him that this is just how life is sometimes.

I see him carving out a mask out of a piece of cardboard. I know what it is for and it’s not just for playing make-belief. It’s something much more special than that. I know, because I had it on my face for such a long time. I know what effect the mask will have on him, but I let him do it anyway. This kid is already heartbroken so I can’t deliver him another punch.

He finally finishes the mask, and tries is on. I looks so good on him, he’s like a new kid. Very cute and playful, not a worry in the world. I allow myself to be fooled by his mask and we play a game of make-belief together. We had so much fun together that we forgot about all our troubles. Now the sun is finally setting and the kid, takes his mask off for a moment, and tells me he has to go home. I hug him and let go. The kid goes home wearing his mask.

Yesterday I looked in the mirror and noticed a crack in my mask. “Hmm, that’s strange… “ I said to myself. “I take such good care of this old thing, how could this happen? … It certainly wasn’t me, so who broke it then?”. But I know who it was. It was you. You cracked my mask. Not by force, you didn’t even have to touch it. It was because for the first time in a long time the kid behind it started to smile. The mask was used only to this sad mould for such a long time and the kid smiled so much that the mask started cracking. I felt like I had to take it off, so I started to gently peal it of piece by piece. Because I had it for such a long time, some pieces were very stuck to my face so I had to rip some of them off leaving traces of blood in the sink. I took a selfie and sent it to you.

You never saw me without the mask before and I feel very vulnerable now that I showed you my true face. I am at your mercy…