In My Not-So-Humble Opinion

It was one of those places where you can feel the timelessness, the context of eternity floating in the air, sense the great many moments that happened in that place, each of them leaving inside a small quantum of their energy while passing by, building up to that timeless flux of energy, the energy formed by moments that changed people's lives, moments never to be forgot. It was one of those places where time and space would occasionally meet for a cup of coffee, just to return to their own boring duties afterwards. And to host them both, there was it - the Grand Central station.The constant, the monument, the witness. Make no mistake. All great things come with a price. April 1895. Derek was an engineer leading the construction works of the station and the railroad. He just loved the way people looked at him. He was the one bringing this wonder of modern technology to their doorstep. He was the one bringing the future into their lives, he was the one that drew the first ...

Rain. Again. All gray. No wonder. The view from my bedroom window has seen nothing but gray smoke for years back. Ever since the explosion. The constant tapping of rain on the glass has become a sound so natural, that without it I think I would go crazy. I think I would not be able to cope with the silence. I wish to see the horizon once again. Will I ever? I turned on the TV. News. There you have it, more gray, an orgy of gray. A lot of colors, a lot of lies, but gray still. Pain and suffering wrapped in a nice colorful piece of paper, reeks with grayness because it's the same shit, but just a different day. Another zombie attack. They are happening more and more often. It might even be a good thing, maybe some color will come out of this gray blob our city has turned into, even if the color would be a bright arterial bloody red. The weather forecast has lost it's sense, they are not even talking about the weather, just about the number of days we spent without sun. It...

Each day is a blank page of a book.At it's very beginning, we wake up, and we write the words in it.We tend to live our days with minds as clear as a summer morning, and we look to the future with hope, like a sailor that looks at the horizon, for what is future if it's not hope, and what is the horizon if not the ultimate desire. We are programmed to balance our lives out, as is the universe, as are it's building blocks.Everything always moves towards chaos but tries to stay in balance, each Yin has it's Yang, each action provokes a similar or enhanced reaction, and make no mistake, whatever you do, good or bad, will come back to you, just like in a circle. This is a story of such a circle, and for what it's worth, it's a true story. In my senior year in high school, I just moved into the capital from abroad. It was a tough time for me, I did not know anybody, I did not know the city, I abandoned everything that I had hundreds of kilometers away, and I was...