INSPIRATION , ART-DIRECTION, PHOTOGRAPHY: Elena Tsali,
CONCEPT, POETRY: Petros Vouniseas,
RETOUCHING: David Kaneen, Vicky Lemoni, Elena Tsali.
The sea is rising in front of you,
A blue sheet that covers an existence just like yours.
An existence which is lonely or that belongs to a wondering herd of loneliness.
You say that you know the route, but the route knows a thousand times better than you do.
The route is the same and never changes.
The one who changes is you, you act and behave in the wrong way,
Your behaviour is so superficial,
You sink in the sea and you think that you will get away from all of your fears,
Just like a little child
But with the tiring guile of an adult.
The one who changes is you, aiming to get camouflaged and get away with it,
Once you are turned into a boat, the other into a port.
People are dressed with the metallic armour of a boat
When their heart decides to carry them away.
They think that with this powerful wrapper
They will not be in danger
In the oceans of sorrow and misunderstanding .
They think that they will never sink
That they will never die.
But there is something which is even worse from death .
People who are turned into ports,
They stand to one side
And they gaze at the rest of the world
When they have seen monsters
And they stay back looking scared.
Boats which are turned into ports.
From the curses of the same old fear that they carry in their store room
Bewitched ports that are waiting for a boat to come and break the spell.
And the boats never stop coming
And just when they thought they have found a port ,
Just when they thought they would calm down from their powerful working engines
And they will embark tired at a port,
They stand lonely and betrayed .
They feel deceit.
Because when they embark at the port,the others are getting away.
The ports are turned again into boats which look invicible in their metallic gear .
The betrayed boats are placed in their seat
And they are turned into ports.
Ports that are made of powerful cement .
Ports that are waiting
For someone to come and embark
For someone to come and break the spell
And among the boats and the ports
Among the ones who come and the ones who go
There is the endless blue,
The relentless gray,
Or the scary black,
Higher or lower.
They reflect the mood of the sky,
They draw their line following their genuine intuition ,
Following the flow of the infinite ocean bed .
In that way they march and they go wherever they have to go.
They are gray,black or blue.
It depends on the day.
They look short or tall.
It depends on the wind.
But they move non stop
Towards the direction which is defined by the truth of their depth.
And as long as the boats are turned into ports and the ports are turned into boats,
They,naked and beautiful, go into the sea
And move with its flow.
And they never end.
They never die.
They come back to start again from the beginning.
For another shore.
For a piece of the endless and the infinite,
They have the color of the sky,
They have the speed of wind
And the depth of the sea.
They are not armed boats.
They are not still and betrayed ports.
Neither they become nor unbecome.
They just stand proud,
Like flags of their own existence
Like banners of their own conquest
They wave and wave..
A soldier and a banner in the same time.
Do you think it is accidental
That the mind
With the ocean?
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