Articles, essays, poems, short stories and tips on writing

  And I thought it would be the same. I thought it would all be just like before, but one matter is to lean on old memories in which everything was covered in tolerance, protection and joy and even a sense of unity, and another matter, utterly different, is to witness decay. Many years had passed, and in those old days the morning sun would cast its light through the windows as if it was announcing a jolly "good morning" and the birds would perch onto the mango tree right outside, all singing like a morning choir. The rattle in the spacious kitchen was certainly not noise, but a sound that would wake you up alongside the aroma of recently brewed coffee, and just the thought of waking up to that scene would make, even the laziest soul, wake up in a rush just to experience the events that would take place right outside the bedroom.   The kitchen was the heart of that house - just like many others, I'd presume - in which early morning visits would bring along a "good mo...

  COFFEE SHOP “A cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cheesecake, please” – Just another day, although this time he simply decided to go out since he felt like relaxing in a café and dedicate some time to his writing. The place wasn’t bustling with customers and the atmosphere offered a much-needed peace and quiet… just a little out of the ordinary place for writing since mostly he’d do it at home. The place felt warm and cozy, with dimmed lights and a comfortable, green-velveted chair and a nice sturdy table to sit at. A sip of warm coffee with a touch of cinnamon felt great in his palate as he proceeded to take out his laptop. “What should I write about?” – What does it take to write if not a simple word or a sentence and see it how it flourishes like a flower in spring. The magic is there, and it doesn’t matter the topic because our minds are so creative by nature that one would just start with a word and take it from there. He pondered his own experiences, bad and good… he...

  FREEDOM There comes the time again. With its tight grip around the neck reminding you that the clock is ticking, and that monotony is wearing you away. Everyday seems endless and ultimately: aimless. Getting up everyday almost at the same usual time, have your regular breakfast and almost robotically, you carry on with the rest of your day just to repeat it over an dover again, day after day. What seems to be ordinary, slowly wastes you away, gets you away from your essence, the nature of your true self. As he was getting things ready for breakfast, these and many more thoughts cascaded in his mind, powerfully and in torrents, to the point that he began to feel helpless and rather annoyed. While looking away thoughtfully at the view from his kitchen window, the frying pan with a couple of eggs in it, let him know that if he didn’t remove them from the pan, they would get awfully burnt. And it was in that moment, like a flash of thoughts, that he sprang up from the chair, pu...

  MORNING    The rain was tapping softly at the window of her room, as if it was gently waiting for her to wake up from her slumber. Slowly the piano music coming from her digital alarm clock started playing, softly and soothingly. It was as if the music was playing its tune to accompany the gentle rain outside. So peaceful. So ideal perhaps. She slowly started opening her eyes to the soft sounds around her and she noticed that feeling of waking up in peace, in such an ideally atmospheric moment. She stretched out while gazing at the window, at the world outside. The white curtains pulled to the sides would let her see the crystal of her window, with trickles of water running down, resembling little rivers of peace. The pine trees outside being showered and refreshed by the water, were slowly swaying rhythmically to the sides. They looked as if they were greeting her that morning. She smirked at this thought, at the marvelous simplicity and beauty of the rain, of thos...

  How long does it take to forget? I wish I knew the answer to this one, I wish I had more than just a handful of broken answers that most of the time I must put together to make sense and yet, I end up with more questions than before. I wish it was easier to forget names and places so that even a fleeting remembrance won’t hurt so much, but to no avail I try and try, just to find myself where I started. Should I have to stick to the saying: “time cures everything”? I am not sure that’d work, for the memory is still there. It’s like being tied up and not being able to escape. I am not talking about an unpleasant memory, but just some, which are painful to remember because the one I should be sharing those memories with is no longer by my side and it is hard to come to terms with that idea, to make a logical sense of it. Doesn’t mater how much I try. They always come back: a lovely smile, waiting for the bus to go back home, or just simply a good night kiss before going to bed...

CAPPUCCINO “A cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cheesecake, please” – Just another day, although this time he simply decided to go out since he felt like relaxing in a café and dedicate some time to his writing. The place wasn’t bustling with customers and the atmosphere offered a much-needed peace and quiet for his writing and perhaps a little out of the ordinary place for writing since mostly he’d do it at home. The place felt warm and cozy, with dimmed lights and a comfortable, green-velveted chair and a nice sturdy table to sit at. A sip of warm coffee with a touch of cinnamon felt great in his palate as he proceeded to take out his laptop in order to write. “What should I write about?” – A simple question yet charged up with uncertainty. But what does it take to write if not a simple word or a sentence and see it how it flourishes like a flower in spring. The magic is there, and it doesn’t matter the topic because our minds are so creative by nature that one would just start...

  I – memory I saw myself wandering aimlessly through the streets of my mind, to the point where I got lost within myself. Being aware of such a situation is overwhelming and exhausting, just that I do not feel it in my body but rather in my soul which helplessly decays and squirms in pain. I still seem to be unable to fathom the existence of this cagey feeling of loss which envelops everything around, like an ivy trying to extend its reach to everything it can touch, perhaps with the aim of smothering anything around. I extend my arm as if trying to reach you, to sense you or even feel the touch of your silky skin, yet all I can find is emptiness, as if I have been taken away into the void. So, I return to my mind and once again I get lost. Perhaps that reality is much more merciful and forgiving than being broken into pieces just by not knowing where you are. I am barely able to remember the last time my eyes contemplated your extraordinary self with that rainy auburn hair ...