Walking past the newsstand drunk on rose wine. I step out into the cobble stone street, but nobody bothers me. It’s night and the sky sweats blue.I want to eat some dirt so I can stay here. Keep a piece of this paradise with me. Go deep into forgetting. Street signs in different languages have no meaning. Just motorcyclists with delivery bags and no helmets. Boys and girls hanging on. I’m not from here so everything is beautiful. Leaving the past behind. Emptiness is my dream. Without a center . Without a mother . There is nothing to hold me . Afraid of continued mis-functions. Old lovers like executioners walk through my bedroom at night. Sitting on the sidewalk under a tree thick with leaves, its trunk is brown, it’s roots invisible, yet all part of one thing. Are these lovers and I one thing? Part of one long past? Lovers that belong to me even though they never did. They belong to the story I tell. Or I can be here in Athens, with it’s strange writing . Telling no story at all.