Siranoush

The wooden floor had an almost velvety squeak, as it came from beneath her footsteps. Half-clothed, Siranoush sat down in the middle of the hall, breathed deeply and looked in silence through the semidarkness. There was nobody around. “Yet”, sighed inside her the young woman. The silence veiling her in such moments felt like a … Continue reading

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memoirs in bitter red (I)

[…] the first woman i ever loved had long hair and fractured dreams. her movements sounded like the turned pages of a book. there was something about her, something similar to the frailness of printed paper, and her smell, although so different than the one of ink, aroused me just the same. i never touched … Continue reading

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milky silence

i miss the freedom from the taste of a peach as it used to laugh at me in times gone by, ripped by my milk teeth –   sometimes the words i unearth from the memories still bear its juicy and flavored stigma, my hands smell again like cinder and butterfly wings and sun strips … Continue reading

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the girl who could see the wind

the girl who could see the wind hiding its seeds ’neath raven wings was just an ordinary girl – her gaze, like blackberry brambles, climbed around old mirrors striving to keep its wildness fresh – the girl who could see the wind was just like the salt between us, black and bearer of oblivions – cuddling … Continue reading

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Wednesday pondering – on endings and beginnings

It so happens that today is the 31st of December. Yeah, the last day of 2014 falls in a Wednesday, and as I saw it this morning, a voice inside me (yes, I hear voices inside me – calm down, I don’t listen to all of them :D) told me to make an attempt at … Continue reading

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haiku

mistletoe-decked hearth – a widow, over again, stirring the embers   © 2014 Liliana Negoi

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haiku

swift, a butterfly – in the corner of my eye a shadow fading © 2014 Liliana Negoi

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My writing process :)

A while ago (OK, a LONG while ago, to be more precise about half a year, on the 30th of July this year) I was nominated by Sorin Suciu to carry on a “blogging torch“. I said “yes” at that time, I prepared my answers, and then, due to some personal issues (such a good … Continue reading

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the apparent flow of things

the apparent flow of things is only the passing through the mirror without touching the silver on its back. between us there’s so much emptiness, and we wonder, as if that would be the ultimate test to resolve. sometimes though our ears shelter a cryogenic hissing of violins looking for a higher sense of pain … Continue reading

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Jacinta

Her name was Jacinta. Nobody knew why her mother had named her like that when she had brought her into the world – maybe she hoped that, by naming her after a flower, her gipsy origin would be easier ignored (although that one was fully betrayed by her dark features and her eyes like a … Continue reading

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