She don't care about time ( Read more... )

" Stephanie says that she wants to know ( Read more... )

I used to do this a lot to clear my mind back in the day. Find a line, any line, and start writing. Start from that line, then write about anything, let your mind jump from one thing to another, a free flow of thoughts. It's a strange thing, because often it does not make sense, at least not to the reader. To the writer, it makes perfect sense. She ( Read more... )

Wars in the Middle East, droughts in western Europe, floods and fires in eastern Europe, melting ice at the poles. What a mad, fluid world we live in. Worlds change, people die, cities fade. There is a funny thing about it, about me. When dozens of people die in a fire somewhere far away, that does not matter to me. But when a landmark is destroyed ( Read more... )

Why is it so much easier for me to confide in people I barely know than in my old friends? Is it fear of what friends might do with that knowledge, who they may reveal it to? Perhaps years down the line they might come to me and remind me of the troubles I used to have, and I would be embarrassed. These days I need someone to talk to, so I seek out ( Read more... )

It's not mine (although I wish I could write like that), but it's beautiful:

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me ( Read more... )

Choices can be a terrible thing. I have never been good at making them; I prefer to fuss and contemplate and wonder, delaying the inevitable decision as long as possible. When presented with a new opportunity, there is the terrible siren's call of waiting, waiting and hoping that the opportunity will disappear, that I will not have to think about ( Read more... )

With my inevitable graduation from university, a terror approaches. Too soon, I will be thrown out of a comfortable academic environment into the real world, a harsh and frightening place. When I was in grammar school, I did not look forward to university. That was a place for older people, people who had had to grow up. As a grammar school kid, I ( Read more... )

I stand on my balcony and close my eyes, and a cool wind swirls around me, gently caressing me with its invisible hands. There is a scent on that wind; no, not just one scent, but a dozen, a thousand. There is the mouth-watering smell of fresh pies from the nearby bakery, the intoxicating perfume of a young girl awaiting her lover. There are other ( Read more... )

Sitting on the beach of the sea of dreams, one foot tests the water. It is cool, inviting. Come to us, the waves whisper. Swim and be merry. That sea is never silent, never still. Gaze into it, and you will see a reflection. Not that everyday face, the confused one with the sad eyes and the little lines that laughter had traced into the skin around ( Read more... )