It’s my first time. Half of my motionless body rests inside the white, clinical, cylindrical machine, in my head resembling an intergalactic coffin. I feel an itch, but I have to resist moving. I want to cough, to sneeze, to yawn, ugh, of course, at the most inopportune moments, and I have to keep itContinue reading “Motionless”
As a fan of Marcel Proust who loves the way he perceives the world as depicted in À la recherche du temps perdu, I thought I should write down my answers to the most popular version of his iconic questionnaire in my first unequivocally personal blog post, even though my answers may very well changeContinue reading “The adapted version of The Proust Questionnaire”
Clinical, surreal emptiness. Chocolate-scented wood. Smell of new and non-alcoholic intoxication. Life as art for art’s sake. Neon light flickers as you blink infected by dizziness. No longer tone-deaf to the harmonies of your own soul, you don’t shrink for someone else to grow. An invisible corpse in the plastic bag winks at you fromContinue reading “A poem: Unfiltered”
She was standing by the window, her face seemingly puzzled by the familiar noise of trains rushing incessantly and birds making harpy-like sounds. It was really taking her back. Back to the days when she made connections between the number of the floor she was living on and the corresponding circle from Inferno, in hopesContinue reading “Dantesque”
On the other side, I see your face distorted among plants and fish; you smile and I’m happy because I know you know how I love rivers, lakes, and the sea from afar, and how I used to take swimming lessons when I was little, yet was never eventually able to swim for long distances as IContinue reading “Aquarium”
That memory of snowdrops, fountain pens, and spring dew made my world shiver this morning once again.
The universal shift of focus from being to seeming permeates our age of confusion.
My happiness is sometimes derived from: The scents of acacia flowers, honeysuckle and snowdrops; the taste of greengages. Moments when I feel I love what I am doing: when I get excited while reading research or creative writing – and, consequently, when I feel like I can contribute to the research or I can createContinue reading “Pleasures in life”
The pleasure of feeling beams of light piercing through tired, stained windows and caressing the air impregnated by particles of dust. The pleasure of being inside, away from the unbearable, threatening sunlight. Expressionistic shapes are formed on old grey walls holding Pre-Raphaelite portraits of mythical women. A shuttering of a window, a shuttering of aContinue reading “Diary entry: library”