My speech is faster in French than in other languages. My words are hit on a tapan* in Macedonian, half-munched in Spanish, careful in Dutch and round in English. I only speak in metaphors in French, English or Spanish. I am direct in Dutch and Macedonian. My many languages give me so many identities… or am I giving my many languages an identity? Continue reading La Vi has many voices
I was too sensitive, too chatty, too touchy, too serious, too complicated… I was too much to others because I was too little to myself. Continue reading La Vi is not too much
I was tired from the night bus trip from Sydney, heartbroken, lonely and scared. I sat next to a group of strangers on the hostel’s terrace and before I knew it, I was sobbing, telling my tale to a compassionate girl from the UK. Continue reading La Vi is grateful
I stepped into the coffee shop in a kind of daze. As I somehow managed to take my jacket off, my friend looked at me inquiringly.
– I just said ‘I love you’ for the first time. Continue reading La Vi says I love you
Our lives get imprinted with people. Some leave an everlasting mark, a wound that never completely heals, a scar that throbs at their mention and reopens in their presence. Others are remembered as a warm ray of sunlight on one’s face. Continue reading La Vi gives back
This is how I want to be remembered: In spite of everything, she really tried to be nice and believed other people did too. You can go ahead and put that on my gravestone. ― Mik Everett Continue reading “
– Maria is a writer.
All eyes were on me. Awe silenced the table and I quickly brushed it off:
– He’s exaggerating. I’m not a writer. I write. I’ve never been published. Continue reading I am a writer