Sometimes I wonder is it me or my imagination?
Are true occurrences part of living in a dream?
Fantasies become reality in my own creation
But they are not always what they seem
Voices are present just as an illusory
The inexplicable is something without a solid grip
Beauty is everywhere turns to be con-temporary
The art of it takes the mind on a sentimental trip
Though I try to get that train to the unconscious
Already bought a ticket to never ever whatever land
Travel along for answers avoiding the fractious
Knowing this is a journey without end
Poem: Maaijke Middelbeek
Photography: Laura Makabresku, Poland
