Philospohy Stories

'Marguite. That is a beautiful name. In french it means daisy, no?' said in broken french and her face danced with shadows, reminding me of shadow play, as she played with her fingers and the afternoon sunlight. The grass was brushing her hair slightly. 'No. Marguerite means daisy. It doesn't mean anything. I mean nothing.' I reaplied. I wasn't angry as I would usually be. I didn't seem to care anymore. 'How come. How come you are not a daisy?' she turned to face me. I shrugged my shoulders. I actually never thought about that. I kept looking on clouds and let the question fly away with time and the sky above me. -this is a translated version of my book •Sedmikráska•

An outlook on what living in the present means, and looks like. With the importance of realization.

The most intriguing of all things "human" are faces. Not the ones which our skins naturally wear but the several invisible masks that hide us from everything , even from ourselves. We are so many people all at once that the very point of the word "identity" begins to face a crisis. We take all our past , present and our constantly variable futures to create our infinite faces but it is about time we quit relying on such contraptions and instead be something which we were meant to be and that is , namely "ourselves".

Nigel and Patrick switch personalities!