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Musings on a Sunny Day

  I write for a fairly successful blog. Not in term of numbers or followers, but in terms of content: a well-written and balanced page of writing. The blog is composed of 2 fiction writers and a poet, it has a good variety of topics that might interest fellow writers and readers in equal measure. But lately I’ve felt the need to go solo. I cannot emphasize enough the feeling of freedom that writing anonymously gives you. Not knowing who is going to read you, not being judged by the people you know.  A desire for invisibility, or just freedom. Not expecting anything back. The list goes on, not to mention other unpleasant side effects of working with others.    In the middle of the lockdown I feel that the solitude I have been confined to is not enough, and I am trying to disengage from those few people I am still in touch with. Odd as it might seem I feel like breaking free from those few relationships I still have. As Sartre put it so well, ‘Hell is Other People...

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

  I received my last Valentine day’s present eons ago but it was definitely the best I’ve ever had in all of my life. The doorbell that sounded like a broken carillon rung at around 2pm. He was standing at the door with his left hand hidden behind his back. What was he hiding from me? Was it a bunch of flowers? Maybe they were the plastic variety that grows in DIY stores, like the ones he had given me a couple of years earlier and had made me lough so much, or was it a pot of yellow miniature roses, like the ones still timidly growing on my window sill? Not it was it the Japanese cake from Piccadilly Circus. I was trying to guess when suddenly an unnatural looking green stem with some red lacy petals on top materialized in front of me. I took the rose and jokingly put it under my nose, it had a strong and tacky smell, and thanked him. He smiled. I knew there was something else I wasn’t getting.  What was the joke? ‘Thank you’ I said ‘ I didn’t expect a pres...

WHERE NO WIND BLOWS...

I LOVE WORDS I like words so much that I had to learn a new language to double them up, so that I could write each one not once but twice. Hundreds of words,  like  people reflected in a distorted mirror, where a big man sees himself thin and a skinny woman sees herself fat. With words it was just the same, some became very long in the other language, others became shorter. It was good to have such an infinite variety. I imagined them all locked up in shining little boxes. Each word with its reflexed image. One in gold and the other one in silver. One long and the other one short. One all curled up in the shape of a half moon, the other one sitting flat in the middle. Always happy to be together. It didn't matter how big or small they were. They would always fit in the little box together, forming different shapes in a long DNA chain as strong as steel, climbing up all the way to the moon whenever I opened the little box. I could see myself walking each step till I reached t...