- Bathroom // ?

static crossroads - Lower East Side // nyc 2006

I am walking upstairs. I am falling in love with these blue stairs. It is the fourth time..or the fifth or the one millionth that i walk them in my dreams. I arrive on the top floor.

The door is open. There are flowers everywhere on the floor

There is music loud. VERY LOUD. EXTREMELY LOUD

Its the Led Zeppelin song "Rock and Roll" playing

It definitely was the Rock and Roll period for both of us. I was wearing my half waisted leather men's jacket and he was wearing one ring on every finger notating one woman for every finger.I knew that all I had to do was to get undressed and walk straight to the bathroom to find him and find my peace.

And the morning after, all I had to do was to take a foto early am in the morning like the one above that was shot one early morning close to East Broadway street.

It has been almost two years that his house was not in a good condition. The bathroom was not fixed. The house was deserted just like the moments between us.

Year 2011. Friday December 9 //

sms SM: Come see my new house

sms GA: Bathroom?

sms SM: yes new

sms SM: "Its been such a long long time since we Rock and Roll" Carry me babe

sms GA: Yes it has been a long time. We can fix that

sms SM: Are you still writing?

sms GA: Will you still bathe me?

Am I still writing I questioned myself?

Is anyone still reading ?

? ? ? ?

It's been a long long time......

- Garia August

photomontage by Maurice Tabard

Mathilde Dear,

It is what it is now.

This morning, I thought I saw you from afar. Same garments and same hat. Same all.

It is time for new sounds. It is time we reflect the perception of what we were and bring it to a new period of creativity. We should both let our creativity have wings again and Fly.

I am more in Europe these days than I am in New York or at least my heart is. Do you remember that I used to write "heart" as "hurt"? Yes, it is true that any matter of the heart does hurt but we know well that new sounds can bring us closer to each other with or without one another.

I am listening a lot the sounds of the band Austra.

Look inside me now same way I look inside you.

We are like a vintage reflection of a photomontage by Maurice Tabard.

Love,

Sandrine X.

Yours // Ours

this morning i had the urge to listen to Bob Dylan's

"One more Cup of Coffee" looking at Tina Bernings' below piece.....

maybe i am inspired again- //

- Garia

// Undun //

i really felt it again tonight. New York is changing.We're changing.

the dinner was very nice. The conversation with my good friends C.T., J.R. and D.M. reminded me of some of the changes that are happening in the city and in our world.

we spoke about ipad magazine subscriptions competing with magazine newsstand sales,disappearance of the so called middle class,protests on wall street, protests of young students on a saturday night at 12:00am on Lafayette street heading uptown.

11:40pm. The streets in Soho are empty. There is no one to continue the conversation with. Maybe everyone has felt the change and they just stay inside their houses synchronizing their ipad with their laptop which is already synched with the contacts of the old iphone but has to be resynchronized again with the newly bought iphone that replaced the previous version.

my iphone which is synched with itunes is playing the song "Undun" by The Guess Who. And all I can think of is the below writing by RILKE:

"Go into yourself. ...Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must" then BUILD YOUR LIFE ACCORDING TO THIS NECESSITY;"

Goodnight New York; City that Never Sleeps!

Tonight you felt as if you are

SLEEPING FOR TOO LONG!

Tomorrow of course is a New Day...and who knows, maybe our world will become a better place if we all build our lives according to the necessity of making it one..//

- D.X.G.

- Friends' movements / / The Eternal Summer

# 1

# 2

# 3

//

# 4

# 5

# 6

ELAFONISOS 2011 - GREECE

photos 1-4 Maria Garozi

photos 5 + 6 Sofia Tsekoura

The photo - .

Greece - 2011
black n white/ My country

photo # 17

- I Follow Rivers //

@ GREECE at last//August 15// Island of Spetses

All my thoughts become
a page that is wet
all those pencil notes
Eidothea's notes to her Apollo
Garia's poems to her lovers
they are pointless to be read at this moment

the past
and the past before that past
where did it go?
The water covered it

my body is finally floating
on its own
it is my body
that will keep soaking
till the bad dreams
stop bothering me

i notice my friends
and their hands
strong, playful,while
my hand is trying to grasp this moment
this moment of the chain
this moment of the friendship
that kept brining me back to shore
year after year
every time
I thought I was drowning.

For a friend
is a raging sea
that keeps us moving on
but also is the calm river
that holds us still //

My friends are the
RIVERS that I follow //

S.V.L.

Love this shot I took of my good good friend

in 2010 in LA.now i am back to the PAST again.

loving it

//

Time//Time//Time.

0-1-2-3-4-5-6-7- YEARS

become 0. again

knowing that there might be a return -

For the last months I lived in the PRESENT.

That is why writing has been hard to find me.

Is so much more fulfilling to write when i live in the PAST.

Last night I was in the tunnel from the NEW to the THEN and

back to

now.

Hey little girl Daddy is home.

but you are home now too

time is FLAT.

what remains. is that I am on fire for it all again!

- Garia August

- REFLECTING THE THOUGHTS

of Maria

to Garia

for Eidothea

photos from chicago trip 2010

- Sweet Suite 2C

It was the love and communication period of my journey in New York. Cat Power had just released a new cd and H~ had brought it home. Before the arrival of that cd at Suite 2C, there used to be respect and compassion but I cant recall with certainty any love and communication. Every sunday while I was bathing, H~ would sneak in my room and leave the Real Estate section of the New York Times on top of my bed. It was as if he wanted to remind me that I have to soon find a new place to sublet. But it wasnt about that. It was a speechless way of communication and his caring effort to support and love me in becoming even more stronger than I was without depending on any homy environment like his place.

Saturday 6am, year 2006 or 2007

Can you hear the noise?

It is H~ grounding the coffee. I cant stand this noise. It is only 6am and H~ is up and functioning. I am almost 30 years younger than him and all I can move at 6am is my pillow to cover my ears. He cant be grounding the coffee right now.

H~ : Did I wake you up?

M: Oh not at all. Are you kidding me? Wake me up..ha!

I had to wake up early. Besides it is a Saturday and I have plenty of errands to run. I said in a very cool, relaxed way as if I didnt want to show him that I could sleep for five more hours at least.

M: What are you doing today? I asked him as I was approaching from the kitchen area to his desk with my cup of coffee full. (Well since we had the coffee morning fix ready and warm, why not using it to function at 6am ? Oh, how much I did enjoy always that cup of freshly made coffee)

H~: I am leaving soon and have to go to several Fashion Shows. It’s Fashion Week. How about yourself?

M: I will do some errands during the day and then go to work at the restaurant. I will be back home late after work around 12 am. So, I suppose I will see you tomorrow morning.

H~ : You definitely will. And don't forget to read the Real Estate section tomorrow. I will leave it at your bed.

M: Thank you H~ . How thoughtful of you as always. I will. I promise to read it.

When I arrived home late after work all I was expecting was the next days; Real Estate Sections's silent communication of the “You need to move out”. To my suprise when I opened my bedroom door I found some gifts on top of my bed. It was a lolita Gift package that H~ had left for me from the Fashion Show goodie bags. There was a TShirt with a “Coca Cola Loves Fashion” print, a red lollipop and something else that I cant remember now. It must have been a note from him.

I thought about that part of my life and that beautiful love and communication moment because a friend of mine suprised me few days ago with flowers; a gesture that I would have never expected from a man so strong and solid like him.

Same way with H~

I could have never thought a man like H~ strong like a rock would be so soft inside.

If only I could go back to Ste 2C ~

just for few nights..to listen to the sound of the coffee being grounded early in the morning..to watch the Sunday 60" show on tv together with H~.

Love,

Garia

- Listen to the Rain .

Rainy East Village - May 18, 2011

It has been raining for three days and nights in New York.

The streets of New York are wet.

My heart is still wet after Sunday night.

It is a hard rain when it falls down deep in your heart.

The Silent Man Series have come to an end?

He has been an inspiration. It is so easy to get inspired in life by those who are afar, by those who fill your empty space with mystery and passion. It is so easy to get inspired by a fantasy. But the challenge is to get inspired by reality. The challenge is to get inpired by those who are there by your side every day. That is the challenge.

I am looking outside of my window.

The streets of New York are wet.

Bob Dylan is singing for all of us now.

I am looking outside of my window.

It has been raining for three days and nights in New York.

I can hear the voice of the Eurythmics singing “Here Comes the Rain Again”. Prince’s voice cuts them to sing “Purple Rain”

Gun’s n Roses show up on the empty wet 6th street singing their own genuine “November Rain” and knowing its not November, I can hear Jose Feliciano’s “Rain” song.

And then one shadow from a loved moment of my lifetime.It is Creedence Clearwater Revival asking me

“Have you Ever Seen the Rain?”

I am sure you all have seen the rain....And I am sure you have listened to it.

All I can say is after the rain there is the rainbow appearing in our lives!

Much love to all

Garia August.

- Dark & Stormy

Smith & Mills Restaurant/ Bar nyc

And he left me alone

once again...

We are lovers he said

No we are friends I replied

No we are lovers he added again...

he left because I did not want to eat from his dirty hands...

hands that have touched another woman of flesh covered with an aroma different

than mine

intense emotions always with his presence around my aura

he left me

there with two

plates full of food

eating my empty but confident thoughts

no matter what

You are free

Garia whispered in my ears

He is the one who made you a woman

There are still two plates with leftovers

waiting for his return

at smith and mills

the food is cold

my heart is cold

but it is forever

yes there is a forever finally -.

A forever

Silence //

- Maria Garozi

- Lets Play with Friends.

now that we have them near.

the hour becomes so so heavy

when all we can feel of a friend

all we can see or hear

is the reflection of him splashing the waters of an old memory -.

- The Raw Characters # 2

L.M. one of my favorite Raw Characters of East Village

Ghost Writer - Jewelry Designer - Building Super

"American Super Woman" Exhibit by Maria Garozi

There are days of my life in New York City that resemble to the rhythm of the Ike & Tina Turner song;Nutbush City Limits. Days that there are just no limits at all actually. You wake up, run to your morning cubicle work like Dolly Parton, then run to your second job 6-11pm, then you go for a drink with S.T. and Guille your new good friend who is visiting from Spain, and then you walk back home realizing that your super L.M. is still cleaning the street.

You try to start a conversation with her woman to woman:

"Hey Lynn, at least we both know it is the end of the day. Now we can relax"

"I have to write now" she replies

"You are writing a book?"

"I am a ghost writer. Dont forget that ghost writers do work very late at night like the ghosts" she replied to me.

And just like that you realize why New York is the one and only ghost city.

"I am proud of you Lynn" I said loudly as I was walking up the stairs to my apartment.

I just wanted to share with you this moment. It just felt right to do so. It was such a New York moment.

Hope you all keep creating even during the late hours wherever you are. Just keep it up.

Much love to all,

- Garia August

- Your Gypsy is a wish -

Through sounds lost in the past, the song that meant freedom became love tonight.

It was a night in white satin. The lady’s voice was echoing from the white polo car’s windows through the hill of Lycabettus to the tip of Mountain Dionysos to the deep blue waters of the Aegean. Athens was lighted. And so was I. I knew that a Gypsy I was. I knew that a wish I was but remained there listening to his music. I fell in love with that music. So much music. Deep in my skin.

Psichiko, Athens 2002

My Dear P.A.,

It is Sunday, March 20. Year 2011.

It is cold now. I have never imagined writing to you in these hours. But...

...Your Gypsy is here with me tonight. She definitely is a real wish. Some days, she is a wild horse running away from everyone. Other times she is a wolf who wants to eat me alive. And yet, today she confronted the truth and admitted to me that without you, she wouldn’t have become the Gypsy she is today.

As she was opening the envelope that she found this morning in the mail, she looked at me and said: “Can you hear the airplane’s engine?”. “I hear” I replied even though there was no airplane around.But we both heard that engine and felt our freedom approaching.

As the engine’s sound was becoming louder and louder and reality was drifting away from the room, all those images of suffering appeared in front of me. Images from the time that I had no name in America..no identity. An independent survivor with no real name working day and night. Images from the time that I had to eat the same can of tuna for about a month. Images from the time that the falafel place on MacDougal street was the best place in my weekly menu. Images from the time that I had to sleep on an empty room with Elvis; one of the building’s mouses walking through my hair every night.

And the engine stopped.

I opened my eyes and realized that I had managed to survive in New York and make my dreams come true. I had managed to find Garia and Eidothea. You havent met them, although I think you knew them from the start. And now your Gypsy, our Myth and I are free to fly!


I wonder, if your Gypsy comes back home, will you wait for her at the airport to take her to the city of love? Just take her there for few hours. She longs to see the view of Athens again listening the haunting voice of Stevie Nicks with you by her side. I can listen to her singing now:

"So I am back

to the velvet

..............

I am back to the

Gypsy that I was

......

And it all comes

down to you...

You see your Gypsy

........

It is cold now.

Together with this letter, I am sending you two photos. One is from the concert of Fleetwood Mac in Las Vegas two summers ago. Look at the sky now from where you are seating.

Can you see that dot in the sky? It is our airplane flying back to you,tonight.

Love,

G.

- Morning Look

I do not know if my eyes looked at him

or did not look

at him

because

the frightful produces in us

a confusion of ideas - - //

Stolen ideas //

Borrowed ideas //

- Nostalgia

It was a Thursday afternoon at the office. An uneventful afternoon as I tend to describe an afternoon at work that has no surprises. That was until D.C. arrived.

She approached my desk with a book.

“I believe this belongs more to you than it does to me” She said offering me a photography book with the title HELLAS (GREECE).

“Thank you Doris” I replied with a smile that was covered by a lipstick that had both a happy pinky color and a sad purple one.

I took the book and hid it in my drawer. The first feeling was that I am not ready to see the photos of my country being away for seven years. Who would be ready or able to remember through the pages of a book the smell of the gardenia, the view of the gold cross on top of a Greek monastery, the taste of the Vanilia placed on top of a small table at the islands’ taverna, the sound of the Happy Greek youth singing at a concert, the windsurfers’s vans parked at Vassiliki Beach in the isle of Lefkada ready to download the boards for another fight with Aiolos and the waves, the dramatic aura of an old yiayia’s face seated in one of the alleys all dressed in black, the sound of the Ferry Boats arriving at the port of Pireaus.

Few minutes later, I opened the drawer and there I was falling in love once again with my country through the photographic material that William Abranowicz’s lens has captured. His work reminded me of a country whose people know how to live, how to love, how to inspire.

He reminded me of a land that is home of my eternal summer.

He aroused in me the need for Nostalgia.

And maybe for the Return.

For more on William Abranowicz and his books you can visit:www.williamabranowicz.com

Photos from the book HELLAS

- Lupa ,Where did you go ?

Being at work has some exciting moments for me. One of them is when the magazines arrive. Some days from Italy, others from China. Then suddenly in an unexpected hour, Gabe will bring upstairs the magazines from Japan. India might follow. Spain will also say good afternoon usually on a Friday reminding us that its passionate red travelled all the way from Europe to find us for the weekend. Once a month Greece arrives as well to remind me that I miss her blue colors. And just in time when I need to receive some fresh air, the issues from Russia appear. From so many magazines, what I mainly like reading is the editor's letter because it reminds me that magazines are mainly a way of connecting and communicating with the readers.

Today I decided to share with you the February letter from

Nikolay Uskov, Editor in Chief of GQ Russia.

The traditional Slavic name for February is luten, meaning "ferocious one". Honestly, though, as Russian winter months go, which one isnt? Even an occasional April qualifies for the title. At any rate, the velvety-sounding Roman Februarius was about something quite different from our snowbanks and piercing winds. The highlight of February in ancient Rome was a rather lewd feast, the Lupercalia, celebrating the she-wolf, who suckled Romulus and Remus, while apparently also celebra-ting the fact that the word for she-wolf, lupa, could mean a prostitute. It involved running around the streets naked and lashing random girls with goatskin straps. The girls would then get naked too. You can imagine where it went from there, and weirdly enough, the whole event was considered "purifying" by the Romans. Sadly, what's left nowdays of this wonderfully sadomasochist, exhibitionist, voyeurist and whatnot-ist tradition, is its corniest and most boring part;that is, the pieces of paper with hearts on them. Ancient Romanettes would put notes with their names on them into an urn, from which ancient Ro-men would then draw them, lottery -style, and go to cohabit for a year with whos-ever name had turned up. Not knowing who you 'd draw made it as bad as looking for a date on a social networks, so good thing we dont have that barbaric custom anymore. In later times, an unsuspecting saint by the name of Valentine happened to be beheaded around the time of Lupercalia, became fused in the popular imagination with another saint of the same name (also beheaded), an ended up forever associated with paper hearts, balloons, stuffed kittens and all the other stupid junk that's now bringing nations and faiths together.

I wish running around the streets naked had gone cross-cultural instead, but happy Valentine's anyway.

Nikolay Uskov

- La scrivania e vita ideale

- Garia August

- So Fully

*

My Forever One,

Not sure what day it is now.

I finally decided to write to you again after so much time.

Diego El Cigala is singing for us and the smoke of my cigarette is hiding the whiteness of my room. You once told me; "I do not want to be with you. I want to see you grow and this way be with you forever"

But I do NOT want to grow.

I remain at that first night that we carried that abstract painting together at your home and then started breathing for the first time so close to each other that the painting became a transparent unique color of the tranquil clear blue.

So often I wonder why the two souls of our spirits didn't manage to find shelter that night or so many other nights that I ran to you like a thirsty woman. Yes, thirsty I am for you my inspiration.

Tonight, for once I thought how beautiful it is that I have loved so fully.So fully that I am free now of myself.

I know by now that there are nights when you seat alone and read the first letter she had sent you the winter of 2007.

Winters come and go. Letters come and go.

Our love is here.

- Maria Garozi

-THE LETTER.

*

A letter sent by a woman

Received by a man

First page

Has the word

Hello.

Second page

Has a story from the

Past.

Third page

Has the

Truth.

Fourth page

Probably uncovers the biggest

Fear.

Fifth page

Is lost in the passion of becoming a

Writer.

Sixth page

Seventh page

Eight page

Ninth page leading to

Ten.

Eleventh page

A drawing of a ship and a sun

Symbols of their journey as one in her

Heart.

A letter sent by a woman

Read by a man

Is now hidden

So that it can never be opened again

For it screamed the truth people cant believe

The simplicity of the words I love you

Oh forgotten letter

The secret within their soul

Let your words appear to the man

Let him read you again

Before he sleeps

His eternal death

Loveless, rough and alone.

Or with HER -

December 2007

East Village, Apt 8R

- Garia August