Category Archives: Prose
Existential doubts are a fabrication of my mind. Life is beautiful. Love is perfect and absolute and tender and admits all the shades I value. There is no beginning and no end. How can that be. How were we born.
I wake up. Everything is quiet around me. I’m not used to such a quietness in the morning, I’m not used being alone in my own room. Plenty of light is already brightening the walls, making me eager to rise.
I take a breath. My first breath out of the steel cage where I had been enclosed for too long a time. The view that offers to my eyes is new. The air is refreshing, invigorating, nourishing for my lungs
Why not, why not try writing duly, forcing myself to do it if inspiration isn’t here. What’s stopping me after all? The wall I feel in my mind. But sometimes I start imagining the setting of a story. Until when
Let me try writing you, once more, like in the old times. Have you blocked me again, I wonder, and my heart aches at this thought. I’m writing you in a way I won’t dare to share with the world,
As a human being living on Earth, we are incomplete on four different levels, coming from this separation, this veil, between the heart and the mind, and between us and others. Family/Society Acceptance and Love: we are separated from
My mother, who’s a painter, tells me that watercolor painting should be fluid. The fluidity of my painting has much increased in the last few months, but there still are some rigid elements in them. For instance in “the watchtower”,