Just like the winter of mine

Autumn from my bike.

Words are worthless

Just Cruccio

I think I found a friend His name is Cruccio, he says his grandfather had Italian origins. I believe him because he’s great. We’ve been spending so much time together recently. Cruccio. It was a rainy august morning when I came to a place that is usually called ‘work’ among those who call it that. Actually, for me it is just another place where you have to come on time, share the space with other unfamiliar people and in the end you get a material thing that could be changed for food. However, baack to my friend. Cruccio. My ear caught some unusual sounds. Someone was sobbing quietly. A shock! Nobody ever shows any emotions at that place! Indeed, I started to search the person whose face would reveal some sobbing. Nothing. Indifferent robots everywhere. The next second I heard that somebody was blowing nose. I was lost for a while but in a couple of minutes I noticed him there sitting on one of the shelves dangling his legs and looking sad to say the least. We started talking. One word led to another and he said that it was really terrible because nobody would ever hear him. He felt as if he was invisible. But believe me, he’s not. We have so much in common. So many thoughts to share. He always listens to me. He’s real. More real than any of those people who surround me daily. I think I found a friend. A true one this time I hope. Cruccio.

2nd of September

Unseen, but unforgotten

I always find hard to speak about myself, as it seems that I simply cannot find appropriate words to discribe myself. I make sentences in my head and they disappear there even before I take a pen to write them down. If I make a note, then it means that it will remain forever. Maybe undiscovered, forgotten, lost or unseen, but that will also mean, that I will remain unforgotten in this time and space. These thoughts led me to the idea of making myself a diary. So this diary will be something I have, something timeless. Maybe after years, there will be someone to read it, but I do not have any sort of illusions about that, as I have never been a famous person, I have always been an outcast, even among my friends, as they could never understand me. "Oh that Oddy" - is something people could say about me. This reason made me create my own world, based on my dreams, my beliefs and fantasies. Living somewhere between my world and reality, I will be a messenger, who will leave a physical memo about an odd person and his entire world...