Η έλλειψη

Ένα ποτό, μία γωνία και η μοναξιά των αναμνήσεων

I miss a country that never was. 

I miss places that I hated. 

A home that was always distant. 

I miss something that existed only in my short-term memory as a human being.

And now I realize it was never real. 

It was all an illusion. 

How can something false stay in your memory as something truthful?

How can life deceive you?

How can your own mind play with your memories?

Feelings and places, names and joys, pictures and illusions. 

Those wonderful, unforgettable illusions. 

My illusions.