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Despre frica
Laitmotiv al scrierilor mele de timp incoace, frica a pus acaparare pe mine vreme indelungata. M-am recitit astazi. Nu am stiut ca aceleasi cuvinte se repeta obsesiv si turbat; ca si cum mi-ar respira...
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About Mel
“The best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature.” — Henry Miller. I write to get over myself. Once again I ran through all the How should I start?s, Should I start?s, Can I even...
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Misca-ma
Încă îmi încleştez pumnii în după-amiezile târzii când îmi curge singurătate din suflet, dar se amestecă, la nivelul inimii, cu multă, multă iubire pentru viaţa ce mi-a intrat în sânge. Îi sunt teribil...
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Light
When I realised how much I loved his weaknesses, or better said, how much I loved him despite his weaknesses – even better, how much I loved him because of his weaknesses, I learned the three most...
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Esente tari
Mainile imi tremura fara incetare cand scriu. Nu-ndraznesc sa arunc un ochi peste text. Stiu ca e prost. Lipsit de coerenta, de consistenta. Scriu ca sa-mi recapat increderea, scriu si ma rusinez. El...
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Bruiaj
— De ce eu? mă-ntreabă și așteaptă să îl rețin, să îl conving. Mă frământ — nu știu de ce-i inspir fugă, ceață și furtuni. Să fie neliniștea mea de vină? Dar lângă el sunt cuminte ca o reptilă la...
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Tempo
“Ceilalți lupi m-ar sfâșia dacă ar știi că urletul meu e, în realitate, un plânset.” Nu mă zbat niciodată când ajung în ceasuri moarte, când timpul nu-mi mai trece prin vene, oase și piele, când îmi...
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Something Blue
‘What do you want?’ she asked. ‘The truth or a nice evening?’ I was tempted… so tempted. It’s 4 a.m., us, a pack of stray dogs and the cold night air. I don’t touch her yet. The feeling I’m...
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65daysofstatic ♫
— Imi placi, imi spune. Imi place cum te rafinezi. Ma rafinez pe dracu, gandesc si rad. N-am renuntat niciodata la lumini, clape, explozii. Sunt vie, nu ma vezi? Sunt vulcan mocnind pe dinauntru, sunt...
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Visare
“— Esti o arhiva de amintiri frumoase, iubito,” i-am spus bland, mangaindu-i parul si spinarea. In sinea mea, ma simteam nelinistit. Nu stiam cate amintiri ale altor barbati pastreaza de fapt. Cu cat...
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I Don’t Want to Talk About This
Ah, some call it luck, I call it curse. There’s a high price to pay for happiness — an overloaded memory bleeding over and poisoning my entire system with regret. Everywhere I turn, they tell me to...
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Episod de dimineata
“De la mine până la ea se întindea o legătură, alerga un curent, adia un secret.” – Hermann Hesse Cuvintele lui se loveau de mine și îmi cădeau la picioare. Nu le mai simțeam. Nu mai erau vii, nu le...
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Escapism
My mind is full of demons and they’re having a party of their own, spoon-feeding me from a safe distance with remnants of misery and suspended terror. I’m on the outside looking in, full of the guilt...
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Beauty and the Artist
He said that all real artists are able to turn their beast into beauty for a while. He was serious, tall, rugged, the kind of man I would share a snack with on an evening cruise on the Thames, holding...
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Daydream
I’ve had a crush on your mind since the moment I figured how to walk through your doors, all marked private. I knew we’d get along, we were one and the same. Next to you, I could always be both the...
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Waves and Vibrations
‘Such a one-sided friendship we’ve got,’ she smiled and took another sip of her drink. ‘So we’re friends now?’ ‘We could be.’ She leaned over to him. ‘But first, what do you know about me so far?’ He...
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Sketch
‘Tell me everything,’ he says. It’s getting darker outside, and his room feels colder. ‘Like what?’ ‘I don’t know. Everything, from the beginning.’ I smile and bury my head in his pillow, imagining the...
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Miez de noapte si un haos mai simplu, mai fluid
Lucrurile se schimba atunci cand intelegi ca esti liber sa alegi. Nu trebuie sa inghiti tot ce ti se da. Nu trebuie sa asculti romantisme daca nu ai chef sa fii sentimental, nu trebuie sa te duci la...
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Wilder Chapters
II There’s a certain beauty about being a mess too; painting outside the lines, outstretching your arms for things at top volume, at their most difficult, at their most needlessly complex, only to...
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Amaryllis
[link] ‘I don’t want to tell you who I am,’ she whispers just as I’m thinking how much I want her to keep talking. I want her to talk to me until I know enough to make her the main character of a novel...
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“There is another world, but it is in this one.” — William Butler Yeats
‘It’s 3 a.m.,’ I say. What I really mean is ‘I want to go.’ Someone once said I had a taste for running away, a superficial serenity of mind and a distributed intelligence that keeps me away from the...
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Car Parks at Midnight
‘Do you still believe in safety?’ I asked, slightly lost. Do you? Do you still believe in sleeping late every Sunday, anxiety growing on you like bacteria, killing time with TV series, everyone’s...
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Wonderwall
Our bodies brushed together. I was pushing myself closer and closer, not because I wanted him but because I didn’t want myself. For a couple of minutes I remembered what it’s like to be young and...
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Soulshine
We are all leaning on lamp posts, steps away from the spotlight. Who are you? — the child who is afraid of the dark, or the adult who is afraid of the light? Either way, you’re losing. The volcano and...
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Seasons in Full Speed
It was summer when, night after night, we fell asleep with fast hearts and hurried dreams of sunlight, heavy air and summer rain. You kneading my spine and pulsing through my veins, me promising myself...
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Lost for Words
How do you know you’ve stopped loving someone? It must be when you see them taking all of their masks off, shivering cold in front of you, and you take a hurried look at their cracks, then look away....
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Sharp Prose
Opinions welcome; let me rephrase – Opinions needed !!!11 (in a less desperate tone of voice) The following paragraphs belong to a story called Sharp prose, that will very soon be featured in...
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Mindscape
Another sketch of a story that will be featured in Strangers. Thank you forr all the comments on my last post, they’ve been very helpful! I suppose that I let a secret bit of myself slip out when I...
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Glimpses of Better
He’s been staring at me for a couple of minutes now and I’m getting uncomfortable. I tried to make a joke to show him that I’m fine, but he didn’t believe me. Of course he didn’t believe me. ‘What did...
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Deconstructing Life
There is a nice apartment over the bakery. It is inviting, relaxing, with an air of sophistication and maturity. It is where he first opened the door for her, and where she touched his face with new...
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Plot Twists
She’d been racing with the setting sun on the road, waiting for summer to begin. Summer is always promising, and she desperately wanted something to believe in, something to keep her warm, something...
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Piece of Mind
‘Now,’ she says, ‘get me out of my head. It’s much too quiet here.’ ‘Fine,’ I’d whisper, ‘where to?’ And she’d smile at me, with that smile of the kind of girl she is. That smile everyone must have...
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How to Sneak Out of Your Second Story’s Window, Intro
After Strangers, I thought I’d go back to just blogging while dealing with my third and final year at uni. But despite all the work and fun it brings, it doesn’t feel quite enough. I want to write some...
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Alegoria
Remember Strangers, the collection Cristian and I published a month ago thanks to you? I thought it would be a shame not to share parts of it on the blog, because I want people to read it, and I want...
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After Midnight Magic
After Midnight Magic is a short story featured in Strangers, and perhaps my favourite one of all. Read the rest here: Alegoria Sharp Prose “There is another world, but it is in this one.” It’s...
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Thoughts and Spaces
Summer During their first month of dating, he was so dazzled that he often had to ask ‘What are you made of?’, and his eyes were always wide and hungry. She would only smile and say ‘I have no idea!’,...
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The Girl Who Could Be Queen
The old wooden staircase, the black bricks in the wall and the large plants on the sides of the stairs, all gave Mel the chills when she first entered the building. Coming to see him for the first time...
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How to Sneak Out of Your Second Story’s Window
November rain is cutting through the stillness of the day, as a reminder for them to be present – a reminder that they are finally together, even without much to say, and that maybe they shouldn’t...
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Organic Writing from the Cynical Diary of a Dreamer
1AM, ripped jeans, black, fast cars, organic food, a cold beer, trip hop, grey areas, stubbornness, a puddle of mud, breezy weather, warm fingers up her thighs, street lights, dark curtains, milk...
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Sharp Prose
Sharp Prose is a short story featured in Strangers. He said he was going to write a story about us. I took it seriously. Later, I found out it was. I was excited to hear that we could inspire...
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No Matter How Many of My Cells are Replaced
I write because nobody listens was the first strange little thing I noticed about her. She had scribbled – perhaps in a hurry, with a fountain pen – this phrase on the first page of a notebook left...
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You Are the Idea of Intensity
“My mother taught me the distinct smell before the rain, the promise of cleansing. Didn’t anyone warn you I’m what natural disasters are named after? I am a river, good luck controlling me good luck...
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Introspection
Write hard and clear about what hurts. — Ernest Hemingway When nobody was looking, I buried my ring in the sand and left it for the waves to carry it far away. I didn’t want him and the symbols of his...
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My Mind, My Playground. Raw Writings for Winter
“I have fallen in love with the imagination. And if you fall in love with the imagination, you understand that it is a free spirit. It will go anywhere, and it can do anything.” (Alice Walker) His...
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Badland // Ascension
“The world is not made up of atoms; it’s made up of stories.” – Muriel Rukeyser ‘A week?’ she froze. That wasn’t what she had planned for. Then again, it wasn’t her who planned it in the first place....
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You Want to Talk About the Poems I Write About Us
Sometimes little things tip me into euphoria. Sitting at a bus stop at sunset, the warm wind rushing in every direction through my dark hair, over my bared golden skin. When I close my eyes I’m a...
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Waking Up With Stories on My Mind to Tell Nobody
‘You met me at a very bad time in my life,’ I wrote. ‘Perhaps I would have been different in the summer. Last summer was especially beautiful, with its own set of rules carved in stone, until the last...
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Nothing Is Ever the Same As They Said It Was
The street shines glossy black after the rain. Pavement cafés are crowded, and vehicles hiss by — their roars constantly approaching, breaking, receding. I watch them holding my breath, forgetting to...
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Badland II // Descension
I’ve decided not to leave my Badland business unfinished, so I’m dedicating lunch breaks are late nights to continuing the story. I haven’t written something this long in a while, so I’m blindly...
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Imaginarium
from Badland, the draft of a new chapter — the first ones here & here She was feeling for the knob when she saw the light of his cigarette at the other end of the corridor. His words were still...
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