Sunday, May 25, 2008


A bike is a lump of metal, yet is made of fire.
You jump on its saddle, you feel the Flame.

Flame of Freedom,
Flame of Power.


Fire is good.

it also

Sunday, May 11, 2008

When Lead Transpires

Lead is the coarsest amidst the traditional seven metals of Western Alchemy.

Its color is grey, and it conveys la pesanteur, a grey heaviness of the soul.

Its planet Old Saturn, bestower of dark melancholy.

Lead sings its dumb song in a baritone key.

Yet, it is written that thou shalt seek the Spirit of Metals under the Seal Of Saturn.

You will let lead transpire, till its precious sap comes out of its grayish grave.

But how?

Similia similibus solvantur.

Thou shalt meet lead with utmost kindness, wash it with amorous tears, till it sweats drops of love.

Saturday, May 3, 2008


All day long, The Golden Town is infested by tourists, like swarms of flies pestering a dormant Cyclops.

But Sacred Night comes at last, and Stare Mesto is once again what it always was:

a place of sacred rites,
a place of ineffable magic,
a place of blessed silence.

I walk the dark lanes of Praha like a mature man coming back, after a long distracting journey, to his cherished home.....