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In a small village, hidden in the folds of a forgotten valley and wrapped like a nest in the branches of a sleeping oak tree, a writer sat in a room that time seemed to have forgotten.
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In the twilight between day and dream, the shadowy realm of the rainforest unfolds. Where the celestial plankton gets caught up in the clouds..
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On the AP-36 autopista, where thoughts do somersaults and the battery of reason takes its last breath, I steer my vehicle towards the sunset as if in a trance.
Swiss Cheese Model
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In the winding paths of a dream, where time glides on roller skates and logic rests on the green felt of a billiard table, cushions whisper unheard stories.
Update Jan 23, 2024
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In a world where locals, out of fear and uncertainty, fight a futile battle against relentless change..
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In a world where gravity is a non-binding proposition and the sky shimmers in layers of lavender and neon pink, a DJ plays beats that only the flamingos can understand.
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In Tanjong Pagar’s confused meanderings, a thought glides like a slalom runner through the path of foolishness.
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In the government quarter, where neighbors whisper like leaves in the wind, a question hovers in the air: “Can machines think?”
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In a confused stream of thought, moving like a pendulum between reality and fiction, notes fluttered on the walls of the cabinet of curiosities.