Text & Photos: George Partsinevelos
Translated by: John Agrafiotis
Every November I feel the time heavy leaning on my back. … and I wonder if I will be able to give life to the rest of the time given to me.
I feel it leaving marks on my mortal body and on my little thought. And a bit of sorrow to remind me all the things I will not live. For all that will call me, to their hug but I will leave, one more time, I will leave far away.
But I wake up some mornings and I want to get rid of all these from inside me and walk peacefully down my own path.
