a stagnant hollow sound

swimming in the waters of this sea and of that sea... in a country that is no longer ours nor yours... we have no rivers, we have no wells, we have only springs, only a few cisterns --and these empty-- that echo, and we worship them. a stagnant hollow sound, the same as our loneliness the same as our love, the same as our bodies... give us, outside serenity, sleep. giorgios sefiriades mythistorema