Tasi83 : Writing

HORSE CHESTNUT Collector

HORSE CHESTNUT Collector

A Story by Tasi83


He wakes up early in the morning, and he has the unshakable, somewhat mischievous, but completely almost legalistic thought that today is the time for..
HAZARD PECH SERIES

HAZARD PECH SERIES

A Poem by Tasi83


Objects lie around me like a sleeping flock. This is the concentrated silence of embodied thoughts, the silence after creation, and it is almost touch..
THE ERA IS ON THE DAILY ORDER

THE ERA IS ON THE DAILY ORDER

A Poem by Tasi83


To serve a decayed appearance Humbly and quietly, To sway day by day to the current of every little movement, To waver and fear ceaselessly, Tolerate ..
GOVERNORS

GOVERNORS

A Poem by Tasi83


The whole world already looks like a wolf-lamb of humans-humans. On lost chessboards, the puppets are standing up and moving, - It's true - not a bit ..
SPECIAL LITTLE DADDY

SPECIAL LITTLE DADDY

A Story by Tasi83


Compared to April, it was surprisingly sunny, almost cheerful summer heat, when a man with a teddy bear decided to take a taxi and take himself to the..
Layers of annual rings

Layers of annual rings

A Poem by Tasi83


All I feel now is: the noose is tight, slimy-raw amniotic membrane. A handful of my life is caught in the unexpected vice of Being. Without clouds, my..
IN A WEB OF MINUTES

IN A WEB OF MINUTES

A Story by Tasi83


Ferenciek tere's former bustling, rather unfriendly bustle of cans is now a thing of the past. It is as if one were walking in the ghost town of Ninev..
DONKEY HORN

DONKEY HORN

A Poem by Tasi83


Interpreter for us, why should you? We have already overcome language, will, shackled Nothings. Art, as a vast storehouse of thoughts, only stands or ..
Adventurers, people, superheroes

Adventurers, people, superheroes

A Story by Tasi83


He tried so hard to carefully tiptoe into his grandmother's small room, almost the size of a mouse hole, that he could almost feel the excitement, in..
STATES OF Dizzy Ecstasy

STATES OF Dizzy Ecstasy

A Poem by Tasi83


Like a rooted suspicion, I live among dead basements, shadows, superficial mortals, as if the silence is timeless...And always there and in a way wher..