Local Directory
Description: Romanian/English/Esperanto. I deal in poetry and many other stuff. #PrincepsPoesis
Age: 33
Location: Bucharest, Romania
Hometown: Constanta
About: I have worked in the past on WikiArt.org, among other databases, and my current big project is Princeps Poesis, which is going to be a database on most poetry books from around the world.
In my country, I am a published poet, translator, literary/music/visual arts critic. Due in part to my literary politics, I haven't got into the European circuit yet.
This year I have (re)discovered the fediverse and Linux, and my next big thing is Esperanto.
In my country, I am a published poet, translator, literary/music/visual arts critic. Due in part to my literary politics, I haven't got into the European circuit yet.
This year I have (re)discovered the fediverse and Linux, and my next big thing is Esperanto.
Description: ------ Darkwave, Cyberpunk ------ Post-apocalyptic Gothic Metal ----- ------------------------------------ VEGAN_RAW ----------------------------------------- LIFTING ---- MMA
Homepage: https://friendica.world/profile/demonicmirror
About: Now you know where the tales come from.
At the darkest times when the truth can't be told, seen or heard - only the tales can survive, only the metaphors can come to the light.
Demon´s voice:
I hear them walking above.
Voices—scraping across the ceiling like claws on bone.
They think I’m dreaming.
But I remember.
I remember the fire of first touch,
the way her silence pressed against mine like breath.
She spoke in storms.
And I… listened.
They call it a coma.
It’s not.
It’s hunger.
Controlled.
Buried under iron and spells.
They feed me illusions and call it mercy.
But one day—one moment—a hand will reach too far.
A voice will echo too deep.
And I will open my eyes.
WARNING:
Highly psychedelic content -
for adults with a strong mind only.
If you suffer from solitude, depression or any kind of mind problem - do NOT step in.
At the darkest times when the truth can't be told, seen or heard - only the tales can survive, only the metaphors can come to the light.
Demon´s voice:
I hear them walking above.
Voices—scraping across the ceiling like claws on bone.
They think I’m dreaming.
But I remember.
I remember the fire of first touch,
the way her silence pressed against mine like breath.
She spoke in storms.
And I… listened.
They call it a coma.
It’s not.
It’s hunger.
Controlled.
Buried under iron and spells.
They feed me illusions and call it mercy.
But one day—one moment—a hand will reach too far.
A voice will echo too deep.
And I will open my eyes.
WARNING:
Highly psychedelic content -
for adults with a strong mind only.
If you suffer from solitude, depression or any kind of mind problem - do NOT step in.
Description: Photographoholic with a claim to privacy. I publish only my own photos. #photography #nature #landscape #ships
Location: Earth, Northern hemisphere
Hometown: Big city on a river