Lwów , Ukraina Zdjecia Starego Lwowa

MICRO-STORY Nikosiano

NAMELESS WOMEN :

She had no name. It could have been Anna, Esmeralda or Magdalena. His legs are covered with nets, siren was among the reef of Raval. I do not know how long I was there one second, one minute, an hour watching: its studied indifference, their enlarged breasts, her makeup had not hide nor age or experience.
From that old cafe, with the desire of those who have been caught, imagining that my loneliness was similar to yours I dreamed that I knew. And lit a cigarette, she lit another, and looked, shielded behind a smokescreen. While words had told him in silence, I was not better than her, that behind the books or dreams, I also prostituted my way, that the company survives parasitically of so many people like us.

THE NORIA:

Tears broke her look like neon lights. Traces of salts, traces of life. In the middle of the night, this crowd was nothing, just shadows, like ghosts. He looked at her, she trembled and shrank from him. The wheel turned and govern your emotions swaying uncontrollably. But their eyes met and in the middle of a tunnel. Were screened in silence, were recognized in the mist. He wanted to know if she was dizzy. She made him promise that his tears would not be in vain.

SMOKE:

Dressed shadow trudging elephantine, enormous eyes turns into a dusty attic, ragged and dirty, your soul torn off at every step of storm and rust drawn in your hair ...

surprised me greeting you, but your look crisp passes the foundation of my body by asking for a cigarette trembling for "good cause" ... An infinite sadness fills my heart to go forward, only takes a moment while I look at the package of Lucky and I remember that ghosts do not smoke.