“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.” – Vincent van Gogh
Politics* is an abnormal walk on a path by the thorny bushes over precipices and under hail storms, and no flowers grow on it.
Only “flowers of the mold” or a type of flowers that whither within seconds….
But “What would life be if we didn’t dare to take things in hand?”
One must be a dreamer who is not afraid of the sawdust of dreams on his hands.
More than oftentimes I felt the powder of my shattered dreams in my mouth.
I had gone to bed desolated and depressed. The only ray of light is that I have the power to make a (slight) change…
It is very hard for someone who has always been accustomed to seeking beauty.
There is no beauty, only the constant hustle for leaving something behind.
You have no friends in politics. Only friends with agendas. Distrust at its utmost. People become narcissists because they have a mirror which stares empty in their faces. They cannot see themselves properly, so they create an inflated image of themselves to satisfy their hungry reveries…
Now I know what dreams are made of, smoke and mirrors…
In politics at times there is no silver lining, just hard overpowering awardless work. and Words… Empty words. Words devoid of meaning, words devoid of humane reasoning, words devoid of factuality. Words that add the the emptiness around.
“You’re not to be so blind with patriotism that you can’t face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it.”
― Malcolm X
“Let me tell you: the only way to get rid of dragons is to have one of your own.” – Evgeny Shvarts
Or be one… in the Poet’s Garden.
Firstly I am a poet, than a politician. So I must needs grow some green wings and blow some fire. Out of which some flowers will grow.
Vincent van Gogh – The Poet’s Garden III, 1888.
Also published on Substack.
*I am a local councillor in my district in Bucharest.