Anca Bârjovanu

Sometimes time feels like it's slipping through my fingers,

from under my feet.

I am racing with time, but time is faster.

Will I lose it or will I get to the next level?

I can hold on tight and flex my muscles.

Arrows from another world might still hit me.

I want to feel safe with myself

so I had to grow my own armour.

Mold only grows in moist areas

and I am spoiled from within.

But sometimes you fall and all you can do is just get up and start walking.