“…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)
Tag: Waiting
(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
(No. 3 of the Romanian series) Sighișoara, a small city in Mureş County (Region of Transylvania) in Romania is two-fold, two-planed, two-layered. One is the flat city outside the Citadel, spread out on the plateau formed by the river Târnava Mare. The second is the Citadel itself that rises on a hill in the centre. … Continue reading Sighișoara – Tepeș, Petőfi, two tales…
"Waiting is also a place: it is wherever you wait." The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood Noise is inevitable on trains. Quiet Zones are only an invitation to lesser noise. On an unusually warm summer night in Scotland, I was on what I’d like to call the noisiest train. The Scotrail from Glasgow was filled with … Continue reading Waiting at Ardrossan South Beach
We're at Vaclav Havel Airport. He’s older than me. 25, to be specific. His green full sleeved shirt has become a part of him. He’s worn it so often that every time I think of him, I think of him with it. He returns from the toilet, sits next to me. I have to go … Continue reading Vaclav Havel Airport, Prague
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
Chidiya Tapu brought this back - One of the earliest memories that I have of being a child are those where my mother animatedly fed me. She’d bring a plate with my food, sit next to me and patiently ball the food, craftily hiding any elements that may at sight inconvenience this every day ritual … Continue reading Chidiya Tapu, South Andaman
~ Written after leaving the familiar Bakewell ~ Some say it is in the familiarity of everyday that our soul lies. And if somehow, by some means you are detached from this familiarity, you feel a longing, an ache you wish you weren’t feeling. Losing a long kept job, finishing three years at university, marrying … Continue reading Familiar Bakewell
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