Codeine for starters | Hidden Athens


I’m wondering how is it possible in a country with a warm climate, 
to feel that cold. And because of that coldness the people of the city curl up, 
almost lied down on the asphalt staring at the sky. A small black&white 
filth for a sky is what they stare at. But still bright. The society of the floor 
staring at the sky. I’ve seen a lot in that condition.

The night time, though, is a different thing. When TV programs replay 
for the unsorted target group of viewers, as they would watch static like the noise 
of their everyday life, the streets and basements vibrate from hollow-sounds. 
The body of the city gash microorganisms that run against each other only 
to ask for something: space to walk through, money, a fuck. 
I can’t recall ever been stopped for any other reason.

The towers of the advertising billboards are the contemporary museums. 
At the White billboards' era, the materials of art are rust, remnants of paper, 
thrown paint, traces of skin and blood. The showcases of our art are yellowish 
from the pee. How many nests exist behind the Kingdom of billboards?