These book titles are fake, they don’t exist. However, I believe they should. Because I’m pretty sure we all know someone that would need to read any of them. That’s why I couldn’t help getting in front of my laptop, opening Adobe Illustrator and giving free rein to my creativity (and sarcasm).
I put my diary in the toaster and poured some coffee in my shoes.
I measured the speed of clouds and hung my raincoat under the shower.
I left home when the alarm clock was still singing.
I took a selfie in the lift just before my colours disappeared completely….
There is something romantic about traveling by bus in the evening. You feel like a postmodern version of Caspar Friedrich’s ‘Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’. The horizon is road, lights and concrete, and everything is wrapped in the beautiful evening darkness.
A toddler crying his lungs out, The persistent horn of the gas truck, The loud radio of the neighbour, A heated conversation in a foreign language, Machines working in a faraway construction site, A dog barking relentlessly, And an idiot revving up his motorbike like his life depended on it.
I woke up when the sun still was shy. The bed sheets didn’t want me anymore, and the apartment was telling me to leave. So I left. I didn’t even bother to take off my pjs. I put on my flip-flops and greeted the day from middle of the road. I danced along the pavements, […]