M-am nascut vorbind o alta limbacu cerul, cu marea si cu muntii;ne adunam in cercuri cand se lasa noapteaeu le tineam pe genunchi si ele ma tineau pe brate cand imi oboseau rasuflarile.Vorbesc limba adancurilor mariia oceanelor nestrabatutea pustiului deserturilora coapselor dezgolite in miez de noaptein miez de ziin miez de mineVorbesc limba trairilor pe…
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– Am uitat cum se traieste, i-am spus, incurcandu-ma in impletirea sireturilor. Ma priveste surazand, de parca i-ar fi venit greu sa ma creada. – Tu?, ma intreaba, confirmandu-mi gandul. – Da, eu, i-am spus, si ma ridic gafaind. Am stat atat de mult blocata in frici, ca au trecut anii pe langa mine ca…
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When my child cried I used to take her hands into my own to “shhh shhh” her ‘cause that’s what I knew best “Please don‘t cry I can’t deal with your pain I have my own pain, bigger than yours, ‘cause I lost everything, I just don’t know it yet.” When my child got beaten…
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Sunt o explozie de sensuri unele intelese, altele cu circuit inchis le insir pe franghia timpului le las la uscat le pun intre paginile cartilor pe care le scriu sa-mi aminteasca de mine mai tarziu Sunt o explozie de veacuri adunate intr-o inima stangace, fashionista, care si-a croit o umbra noua veche de 12 ani…
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Acum 24 de ani, am pierdut una dintre cele mai importante persoane din viata mea. Era duminica, undeva in jurul orei 13, cand am primit un telefon de la medicul de garda de la Spitalul Universitar din Bucuresti, care ne anunta ca sora mea a facut un preinfarct. Nu-mi amintesc decat panica din ochii alor…
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Pentru ca sambetele sunt zilele mele preferate, desi m-am nascut vinerea si apoi miercurea Pentru ca toamna e anotimpul meu preferat, desi m-am nascut vara si apoi iarna Pentru ca curcubeul este culoarea mea preferata, desi dintotdeauna port cel mai des negru Pentru ca tenesii, blugii largi si hainele cu 3 numere mai mari sunt…
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There are stories written on my skin that only children can read There are sparks in my eyes that only children can see glow There are heartbeats in my chest that only children can recognize- Our hearts beat at the same pace, same rhythm, the same celebration, same love, same kindness, the same light spread…
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there are days when the wind takes over and I doubt my roots there are days when the peaks I once climbed now seem out of reach and I doubt I’ve ever felt their height under my feet there are days when I don’t recognize the blue of the sky it seems so foreign to…
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Part 1. I grew up not knowing who I was I was taught to dim my light and keep it locked in the corner of my heart I was taught to stay quiet and shape me according to their patterns I was taught that I was weak and helpless sometimes not enough, other times too…
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I could call it “enthusiasm” but it fills the breaks between my heartbeats So it’s more than that I could call it “joy” but it tastes like non-vegan Nutella topped with regular-milk Nespresso coffee and cigarettes flavor So it’s more than that I could call it “excitement” but it makes my skin ticklish and it…
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