Theodore Skourlis
SMALL SUNS
In each stone there is a little Sun that flows the times playing with them with the colors of their fears. So many small Suns as the stones. Times are their fathers who bore them and leave now persecuted by their children falling on plains or enslaved to walls unable to seek salvation. What craftsman will be able to save them with hammers and drills and other tools without a myth? The small Suns are laughing in the darkness of stone and mock the night stars that sit bare in heights without an embrace to warm them, without their fathers the times to roll them playing with the colors of their fears. Without a stepmother stone.
(Transl. Panos Bosnakis)