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.
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”,
Oh beloved, why are you so afraid of not being unique, of not being entirely loved for who you truly are, of being lonely. Even if we all are but droplets of water in an infinite ocean, you will always
Beloved princess of the Sunken Realms, captor of the Steelregel. Rest assured that I already know of your sad loneliness and your impatience. But this is a process that cannot be sped up. The potion has already been set to