Villa Popov & Balchik (Балчик)

“…Your life, little fireling, little warlike starling, flickering indignantly, all erotic umbrage. Broken wing in my hand. Pathological, shy flame, I will care for you. Little shape of my fate, my certain failure. What is desire, if not this burden. Dearth and glut cupped in your hands: wild, deadheaded, and blue.” The Sunlight, Miguel Murphy. … Continue reading Villa Popov & Balchik (Балчик)

Acolo & a slanted ferris wheel – Vama Veche

(No.4 of the Romanian series) Vama Veche. I saw it on the map first. A tiny dot before the Romanian coastal border. The images lining google maps showed a shopping street, people dancing on the shore, a fire, pubs, a hostel and a stretch of sea. Reading more, the common strain in most opinions was … Continue reading Acolo & a slanted ferris wheel – Vama Veche

Stevenston Sea – A Sea of the Absurd

Stevenston Sea, between Largs and Glasgow. When I decided to get off the train midway, he was reluctant to follow. I promised to get him back in time, in time for the nothing he had planned for himself. For the something of mine. But before I could note the name of the sudden town, Stevenston, … Continue reading Stevenston Sea – A Sea of the Absurd

Porto Antico

Ports are places of many comings and goings. But there is a stillness and silence in them. Porto Antico, the old port of Genova in Italy did not smell like the sea. It smelled like a culmination of journeys. “There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is … Continue reading Porto Antico

Genova Voltri – An Italian beach

Genova Voltri, 8th June. I have mixed feelings about the sea. I forget it sometimes – that somewhere beyond this city I live in is an end of land and an immense of water. When I remember it, there is an urge to go to it. As much as I like the word ‘eternal’, there … Continue reading Genova Voltri – An Italian beach

Abbey Fields

It is a purple night. The coniferous trees are tapering to the sky in dangerous sharpening of tools. The canopied ones look like fleshy scythes. Kenilworth Castle is a mound of black. We walk down to Abbey Fields Park. Two parapet walls on either side mark the entry to the parking lot. There are other … Continue reading Abbey Fields