It is some hour past midnight. You are nudged to the edge of the bed. There is no clock in the room, but you can hear the silent minutes slow down to louder seconds as you tell yourself to keep the peace in your people by remaining still on the edge. Each present tik soundsContinue reading “Align Yourself with the Mountains”
Tag Archives: writing
Corduroy
A story about an 11 year old boy’s small thoughts spurred by the feeling of corduroy fabric on his skin. A feeling that kept strangely and interestingly coming back in the form of memories and dreams at the age of twenty, the almost-age of fifty and his final year of nintey-two. A story that remainedContinue reading “Corduroy”
An Insomniac’s Morning Hours
When the call to prayer soundsand the sun’s about to rise,my thoughts restlessly dissectthis sorrow, that guilt, old lies. “I can’t keep up”, I say,“slow down and stop the mumbling!”But they answer with obtuse eloquence,lingering, rolling, and tumbling. How lucky I find those people,who are right now asleep.Their heartbeats slow and steady,their dreaming calm andContinue reading “An Insomniac’s Morning Hours”
so ist es.
so it is. I met him accidentally. A chance was presented to me. Like a single thread that wove in and out of itself, he turned into a net that both tripped me and caught me from falling. He carried me with a single thread spun into a web. And with the loose end ofContinue reading “so ist es.”
Excerpts from my unfinished novel
Excerpt 1: It is inevitable that mistakes occur in life. My people had taught me that this is what makes life intriguing. I know stories about how their mistakes turned out to be favorable, to the point where they’d laugh with delight at the vigor and vitality in taking downs up to ups, turning sadnessContinue reading “Excerpts from my unfinished novel”
The Sunken Forest
August 25th, 2014 – “That Day” / “Today” Fire Island, New York Dear H, My sentences will be long. If you are in quarantine like I am, only read this letter when you want to plunge into the abyss like we used to, where sentences are made for pure feelings, and where they lack structureContinue reading “The Sunken Forest”
Helpfulness
The best quality in a human being is Helpfulness. There is a corner in my heart filled with nametags, uniforms, hairstyles, voices, eye colors, and smiles of strangers who have helped me as if their life depended on it. They don’t know me and if they once did, they surely forgot me now. But IContinue reading “Helpfulness”
Fire Island Scribbles -3-
A super weird piece I don’t remember writing. I hesitated in posting a piece I did not like at all, but I felt it spoke for a day or two in my life in which I had such an urge to be a girl with an Albanian name and no Albanian background fixated on signs.Continue reading “Fire Island Scribbles -3-“
Why Kombucha
Who’ll tell you why Why we hope and dream Why we tell ourselves first, And each other later, Lies that are half-truths: Half in knowing, And half in not knowing That we are never going to fully Be in the knowing. (Guess which half Is more submerged in the self than the other. Guess, then,Continue reading “Why Kombucha”
A Prism of Possibilities
This, today. I wish you could carve it along the walls of your home. One of the most remarkable ordinary days is occurring unreasonably. Today had no incentive to start so kindly, but it did. Something tells me that the magic of your growth is the actual source of this prismatic primitive feeling. This letterContinue reading “A Prism of Possibilities”
Beisan's Burble 