Yes, blue. What else?
Bones, teeth, fins. Do fish have tongues? Fringes?
(…) On our plate appeared fish—those that were meant to go to every beach but didn’t make it—shared with hungry cats and dogs barking in the night. Fierce, along with them, I move toward the sea we didn’t go to together. This city sleeps, and every night I build a house on the mountain for when I take off. But I will be there.

Do fish have voices? Sometimes they sing.
Gills: where you kiss, on the neck, that’s where they breathe.
And when they sleep? Then it is forbidden to fish them, and they go secretly to watch the moon rise.

My best friend is here every time I feel crazy, to tell me I’m not—but maybe it’s us who are the crazy ones after all. (…) The Apocalypse comes. She kills mosquitoes in bed while wanting to scream. She looks me straight in the eyes—to see me, or to remember me.

My girl-friend now looks like when she/we were sixteen years old. She told me she is the daughter of God, and that God is a woman. Now she fights with swords that don’t wound.
My girl-friend, or my girlfriend?
Lost in a world I couldn’t understand.
Every time she spoke of it, she had dragons and villains (or witches) she wasn’t afraid of. Because her eyes were still wet.
That meant she felt.
Maybe I should stay silent. I don’t mind that she’s not here.
Worlds shift and collapse. And when they cover everything with waves,
I hope we’ve become birds (even if they look strange to me)to see the view from above. It must be beautiful to fly. I see it in my dreams sometimes, and some days when she showed me the dragons.

My grandma, at home, in the beehives, with the donkeys, in the kitchens, in the olive trees, alone. She cried a lot, just like I did. Katina Paxinou, you have the tears ready…
My mother taught me to be careful and proper. But also bold, like her. I wonder what she would say if she saw me now. The cat keeps her company; I always knew she was a witch too…

Where am I?  Who am I?
From my eyes runs the sea.
Where the hell has everyone gone?