Morsis
I like the way heat warms up cold bodies. The way it offers itself. It’s not that the warm gets cold but that whatever is cold gets warmer. I just think so. I always did. As far as the world remains a part of the world it’s fine for me. Time gets warm too. Time gets its form in the heat. And it dissolves in it as well. Where is the vision? Who is doing some thinking here? In this city? Who creates heat here? Who emanates it? Who loves the body of the city? Who lets it breathe? Just who loves the city? Really loves it with a love that sets it free?
Vasilis Papageorgiou. From Dog monologs in Thessaloniki. Forthcoming.
chromata 
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