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A virtual gallery space.

︎︎︎ Email
︎︎︎ Instagram
︎︎︎ Newsletter

︎︎︎ Info
︎︎︎ Writing


Painting worlds through words...

i really just want you
to be here with me
to take the pain.
i’m paralysed.
i feel lost.      confused and…
my vision is clouded
everything is
              a blur.
i tried. walking the path
alone. i st u mb led and
like words out of my mouth
i can’t
even tell. this makes no     sense
i wish
i could cry
myself to sleep several times
a day.

- is this life

sometimes i wish i could forget
just shut up and don't
say too much

                      you're hurting yourself

my mouth is moving
the truth is silent
falling off my lips
only hearing the birds


the noise in my head
i want to
come clean
the stains are growing rapid
the bathwater goes tepid


is how my heart is
in pieces
is how my mind is
the pain feels heavier
to carry
in the morning

                      so i avoid the day.

- painful memories

illusions, delusions...

i arrived innocent to the party
not knowing the invitees barely the hosts
there were no signs
no posts

bending and moulding for attention
i found there’s no time but apprehensions
i really wanted to belong
i really wanted to make friends but i also wanted to disappear
would anyone want to befriend a ghost
would anyone care
the invisible

called faith
not many of us have it
but i’ll wait and i probe and i test it
overstaying my welcome
yearning for love and attention
i loose myself in the crowd
colours melt into homogenous streams
flowing nowhere
itching to be seen
craving to be heard
yearning to disappear

all in the same breath i call out for attention
this precious thing called time
i count the seconds
watch the handle tick away
non stop
in circles
the pressure heightens and i keep going in circles
my mind spirals
out of control
i feel

i am still at the party
i am still here and only after years have i realised
all i wanted to do was to disappear
so now i wonder if i have ever been to the party

the hosts were never around
was there ever a party then
a party without host is not a party then
but a thick cloud of illusion fogging my brain
causing confusion
lost in direction
existential who am i’s
all i wanna do is
curl up and cry

[party = life]
[hosts = parents]
[invitees = people]

time time time
it takes time
time to move
make marks and mistakes
shed blood and tears
the pain to purify
heal the mortified parts

of selves

unified in grief
we all meet in front of
the gates
who will let in

hearts decide

I asked ChatGPT how to be creative…
Here’s all the AI wisdom I’ve received:

There is no one-size-fits-all approach to being creative, as creativity is a very personal and subjective experience. However, here are some tips that can help stimulate your creativity:
  1. Explore new things: Creativity often comes from having new experiences, so try new things, go to new places, and meet new people.
  2. Keep an open mind: Try to approach situations with a curious and open mind, without any preconceived notions or expectations. This can help you see things from a different perspective and spark new ideas.
  3. Take breaks: Sometimes stepping away from a project or idea for a while can help you come back with a fresh perspective and new ideas.
  4. Embrace failure: Don’t be afraid to make mistakes or fail. Often, the most creative ideas come from taking risks and experimenting.
  5. Practice creativity: Just like any skill, creativity can be practiced and developed over time. Try to incorporate creative activities into your daily routine, such as writing, drawing, or brainstorming.
  6. Collaborate: Working with others can help you generate new ideas and perspectives. Collaborating with people from different backgrounds or skill sets can be particularly helpful.

Remember, creativity is not a destination, but a journey. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to be constantly coming up with new and innovative ideas. Instead, focus on enjoying the creative process and being open to new possibilities.

lost in my head, lost my way home
im trying to find
home, the place to rest and hide
from the busyness of the world
reside, in peace alone
but not lonely.
filled the ache with vegan ice cream
can’t tolerate lactose
my hopes burning
in an empty pot on the stove
dangerous, gaseous
i gaslight myself

— precious

i have never read a book in hungarian
however i have read many in english
a language so foreign to me
felt more familiar
than my mother’s tongue.
a language that’s fake and stolen
felt more like home
than the language
tracing my roots.
the truth
that is told by the lies
every word uttered
in this language is stolen
like land
exploited, excavated, burned, diminished, twisted.
a lie that speaks the truth

— English.

to the embarrassment

don’t even know where to start, how to begin
years of emotions packed in a letter too thick to send in a post box
overcharged for heavy weight
these words bear worlds
holding memories
of past pain and hurt
as much as they hold
joy and happiness

i wish i could say it as eloquently as you do
i wish i could make you understand the words i say as i do
to ensure it doesn’t get lost in translation
to leave no room for misinterpretation
the intention is pure and clean
all i ask from you is to hear
my version
to understand and see
the perspectives separation
both sides of the coin
are still the truth

i could’ve run
run run far away
escape hide block delete
but i didn’t
maybe i’m naive maybe it’s karma
i can’t go back now to pay later via klarna
investments stacked deep
cmd + z

experiences we shared
never truly compared
four eyes staring at the same thing
seeing 2 different things
is it even possible to share the same internal experience?
does language not fall short to explain and express?
how are we meant to communicate what we feel
when we’re so separate yet intrinsically the same?

with you i feel heard
i feel seen
with you i feel silenced
i feel hidden
with you i feel empowered
i feel confident
with you i feel powerless
i feel weak

is that home?
or is that a war declared on myself?

the sense of comfort you provide comes at great costs
pride up high scratching the sky
ears filled with molten lava
they don’t hear
at last it all breaks down

who’s in more pain is irrelevant
a measly competition
i got no papers to show, i threw the receipts
but you must understand the hurt and deceit
i throw myself away way too easy
i give myself up and jump
as if i don’t matter
my selfless self is being tested
can selflessness be selfishly infested?

i want only the best
as we approach the home stretch
what’s best is only for you to know
i can only assume
i want you safe
but only you know what safety feels like for you

the hardest part is watching it all
as if there’s a glass wall
i can see clearly
but you can’t hear me
i can’t help
sitting in the unknown, waiting for answers
no one cares to give
my brain split
in half
too much worry to halt
and i try to calm the mind but the stakes are too high
i can’t imagine a world
without a panda
a world where i have to spoon feed you like a mantra

i tried to tell you so many times
the energy i invested
i am drought
i am angry
i’m on my last reserve
after this
it’s desert


I censor myself
I’ve been told “I am too much, too intense, too this too that.”
Now I hide

I keep myself hidden
Shrunk and crumbled
like a piece of discarded sketch
filled with regret
and shame.

This is the moment
I break free

I no longer punish myself,
this vessel.
I no longer blame
its shape for my unhappiness.
I no longer hide
my feelings
my sadness
my joy.

I express and move
boldly. Like a fat brush
bravely stroking the canvas
with force.
My body is thick and strong.
It imprints
leaves marks
on this world

of yours.

I take it back — it’s mine.

social media is a such a hyperreal space for things we would never do in real life. and by real life i mean the streets. posting a bathroom selfie in underwear to advocate for # body positivity or let it be anything else. social media has unlocked a new layer of performance on top of our normal daily lives. real life, these places have a very different code of conduct, something more simple yet ever more complex with its preconceived policing, yet in real life rarely would anyone go up to you to tell you off…. but when it comes to the internet everyone lets loose on their opinions. as if it created this distanced, non-human self, seemingly more free but it isn’t. or is it?

reminds me that
no words are

distant dream

i lay down, low
    in the grass
        i watch it flow
  like river
        like ocean
it waves, it ripples
                        in the wind
a distant dream.

the thought of you leaving crushes
my mind, the body jerks and contracts
      shockwave rushes
through my bones
it gets me            every time
thinking of you
our skin soft like fresh linen
caressed by the smoke
of the burning incense

you take away my problems in an instant
i wish we could disappear         together
swallowed by the ether
consumed by                   the void
of possibilities
but my heart is devoid of      love.
lingering ghosts

they grab me by my chest
i scream
but i rather                 suppress
affection i want to show
but the cave of this empty hole
hurts more
head held down, i rather go

i refuse, i stand up
recollection of my memories
won’t tear me apart
breath fills my lungs, blood circulates
  my body
my own

strength knitted into my bones
i stand tall
i refuse
      i stand taller
with each breath i grow stronger
                    reclamation of self
i breathe in my own power
spirit gave me another chance
      prior to expire
                to respire.

every damn day
every single day
consistency feeds self-esteem
without fail
do it every day

life’s absurd

nothing makes sense
no rules apply

i’m a scam artist

s o  f    t

full circle

a moment captured in space and time
an overpowering sensation of assuredness in the body
all makes sense in the moment
only to be forgotten in the next

a dot taking a full
of 360 degrees


the possibilities for scale are

from another view point
it might be a spiral
the truth of the full circle
now untangled
made false

a grand illusion
holding definitives

flirting with uncertainty
posing so desirable
for the mind to resist

perspectives prove change

fluid like water
my blood flowing

i’m alive

nothing makes sense

ill — u — sion
ill — vision

are we just mistaking crippling anxiety for being alive???
asking for a friend

my body in time

this body of mine
a place of war

i fight internal battles
at my organs greatest dislike
if only i could digest
events gone unsaid

skin rough like the earth
covered in splatters of dirt
unlike any standard

i wonder if it’s getting worse by
each minute spent in disapproval

sweat dripping, i adore the sun, the sun adores me back
or it doesn’t care

golden rays, set my soul ablaze

i feel inspired
connection feels like a warm
sticky texture

the wind wipes the slate clean
fresh starts
new beginnings

and i forget the past again

maybe i can love again
and again

this vessel of time
holds so much more than
mere flesh

at times i feel like a tree
solid and rooted
other times i
am a grass
getting eaten by greedy cows

but other times i feel
like a displaced meatball

i don’t feel connected
to anything around me

my insides been rearranged
mashed up
ground down

is this life in the city

and glued together

i don’t know
how could i

i only feel
knowing is
to meet the eternal

an appointment
in the here

the cycle of righteous anger

i do a lot of extra things
i am not clear in communicating my needs
i wrong myself for having needs
i get tired because i am doing so much and my needs are unmet

even though i am tired
my unsaid needs still need to be met
by the only person who’s aware of them — me
it makes me feel like i am doing everything

i reason in my head

i feed the ego
“i have to do everything here otherwise nothing gets done” or “no one is helping, everyone’s lazy and messy”

i feed separation
“i am better than them” or “they’re shit, lazy etc”

i create a sense of otherness

i energise myself through inflating the ego to protect me so i can keep on going
ego is not bad
it ensures my survival

even though i am tired
and i should take a break and rest
and reassess
go back to square one

assess needs
communicate needs

you’re not wrong for having them

— a portal

Mornings are special to me. Mornings are a portal. A rite of passage into a new life.

Aches and disorientation remind my brain to run the program. I haven’t forgotten, no I am remembering. I remember myself in time and space.

I passed. I passed the test of time, I am here again. Liminality kisses goodbye, I feel its grip loosen. I inhale deeply, before anyone else. It’s still early. Dawn preceded by yawns, I garner my strength to present this vessel under the Sun. I salute, I bend.

I breathe in. Again. I breathe.

Allowing the remembrance of the past to fade. I progress. I move. I move this body forward, first a bit heavy. Burdensome. But soon it levitates. I claim it. We unite. I flow with the winds.

I witness grace.

I bend and sway again. I pretend to be a tree.

I root down.

And sway.

The breath of life caresses my skin, dances with the hair on my body.

I breathe.

Nature breathes.

I forget existence for a moment. Life seems so eternal. Joy overflows, feeding the birds, the robins and swallows. They sing the hymn of a new life.

I exhale. I pretend to have forgotten. If I let go, will my heart break agin? In hope of finding solutions, I renounce my grasping. I let go. I give it away. I give it away to those who need it. I am not a charity. I have a feeling — we all need it. I breathe. I share.

This gift I received.

It’s not mine.

It’s ours.

This vessel I borrowed to be held in time and space, I give back. I will borrow it again, day on day. I may even search for the expiry date, a user manual, a how to.

But it seems irrelevant. It seems futile.

To give away my time.

To unbecome.


mind — full

Day on day, I wake up, do my routines. As I sit here typing away my back erect — because posture — i find myself in the doubts of eternal now. This present moment. No, I lied. I wasn’t being honest — with myself…

The truth is I am in the future, anxiety gripping my hands. I type. More anxious. Carry on. I carry on. Doubts fill my head. I am here now. I am in the past too.

I am.

Past this nonsensical moment, but here comes another, and another. How am I to locate myself it time is only referential. Am I even here then? In the now? but it has passed already. And so I perished, only to be rebirthed by the billion cells recalling their fragmented self. Consciousness. We leave no one behind.

Only a memory.
Left behind.

Distant, yet so close. I can almost touch it. It eludes me. I halt. I notice my stomach turning. Not in response to the emotion but the digestion of dietary fibres extracted from cruciferous vegetables. Health is invited to my home. I try to invite them to other places. But health seems to be a homebody. Between those four walls, the rules apply.

And it’s gone again, where did I leave it? Attention deficit, short term dementia, google definitions. Psychology now. It’s eleven to midnight.

If it did go somewhere — memories — are they entities? Do they have legs to walk on? I wonder… And so I schedule a meeting.

Worries cloud the sky again. Did the Sun let me down, or did I let the Sun down?


Pause. Revise my thoughts. Rewire my brain. If only I could make it rain.

Wet clothes against my skin. Summer night, somewhere tropical. Sensual. With each move my body involuntarily makes, I feel closer to God. I feel connected, like the wet clothing to my skin.

We touch.
Hugs. Delivered in close proximity.
Then I undress.
Naked truth. I was lying.
I am dying. To the now.

I live in the past, I am distant memory to self. I burn my existence. Every moment — memories fade. To ashes.

I cease to exist.
On these pages.

I come.
Alive in memories.

To forget.

© 2023 Barbara Bazso