Ghost

The man with the scraggly beard was playing his guitar. The tune was slow, in minor chords, and he shook his head in time. People stopped their course and gathered around him. He started to sing, sing the blues, and the people looked on. He sang of dreams and soul and better days and the crowd grew ever larger. The man sang and sang and sang out his soul in the bluesy, minor song until at last he struck the final chord and got up. The Blues Man walked away to thick silence fading into the sunset. The crowd slowly dispersed when he was out of sight and, though the Blues Man was never seen again, his tale was told.

Dreams On My Pillow

Keistas tas gyvenimas. Sėdžiu ir drebu. Ir jau nebesuprantu ar tai eilinis kartas, kai man šalta. ar tiesiog..  nesvarbu. Tik šį kartą šalta labiau nei įprastai. Daug labiau nei šiaip. Tikiuosi, kaimynai nepyks dėl muzikos, sugyventiniai dėl dūmų.. Keista. Koks menkavertis padaras esi. Ir dar toks silpnas. Dediesi didžiausiu galiūnu, kokiu niekada nebuvai ir nebūsi. Bet žinai, kad įsitikinimai kartais yra aukščiau visko. Ir jie padeda. Tikrai padeda.. kai tik imi tikėti... Tikėti..   Niekis. Dabar bijoti ir dvejoti ne vieta ir ne laikas. Tik ne dabar.