A toast
“He hated tomatoes back then.”
How trivial a sentence. How little does it say about you, a man of the Arts, someone with an actual body of work. Why does my memory reduce you to that? Continue reading A toast
Tag: writer
They hear me
There are no more boundaries between private and professional life; everything blends together and, when spiralling down, sucks the entire backdrop into the black hole. Continue reading They hear me
The Closed Shutter House
For the last few days, every night at 8, we go to our windows or doorstep and we applaud people working in healthcare. They don’t hear us, we’re not facing a hospital, but it makes us feel we are actually doing something. Continue reading The Closed Shutter House
The Vanishing
A few months ago, I was telling my friends about something I had been through half a year prior. Something felt off. It seemed too close, yet further away. It is only the next day that it hit me: it had happened a year and a half before that. I had missed an entire year in my story. Where had it gone?
Continue reading The Vanishing
La Vi got inked
You know I’d rather trust my instincts. You know I look for goodness in people. You know that I do that with life.
You all know that and still I sometimes forget.
Continue reading La Vi got inked
La Vi has many voices
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
La Vi is grateful
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 am a writer
– 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
La Vi 