the thing about diving in the great Deep is not knowing what’s coming after you.

I have barely started treading water and I’m already cutting skin with shells underneath.


Isn’t it funny, how those who judged Israel for its wall now support fenced Europe?

Somebody gave me this body; what do I do with it now?
It’s a very remarkable body, and nobody’s body but mine.

I’m alive and I breathe, I’m strong and tall
Won’t somebody tell me who to thank for it all?

I’m the gardener and the flower, too
And in this prison of a world I’m not alone.

When I move, when I breathe, I leave my mark
On the everlasting window pane that keeps out the dark.

It’s the mark of myself! And that mark will remain
On the cold transparence of that window pane.

Life beyond the glass may darken, day to day
But my mark on that window pane will never go away.

— Osip Mandelstam

But recently I’ve been hating my body again. I can not love it if it doesn’t fit the perfection frame.

I learned I lost my anonymity.

I believed in the anonymity of the web. I can write here whatever I want and not expose myself. I treat my blogs like diaries. I use them to write or post or repost what I like and what’s on my mind.

I feel exposed and not in a good way, it’s not something I wanted.

So for all  you out there, sure, I get it, you stalk people, we all do … But don’t let them know, it’s creepy. Why would you snatch something personal away from them. Or from me for that matter.

I don’t feel good at all. It’s like my privacy is being violated.