Category Prose

(Real) Estate

I sometimes go off to my country home, where the pace is slow and every moment deep. There, the world becomes small and vivid, in which one follows birds in their rustle or hears crickets list their griefs. Without looking, you could feel the sun slant upon your toes, or the air hold your face. […]

Vignettes

i. So, you sit watching a silent film of your unborn past, as you watch the unfolding drama by an anonymous writer. And there you are, walking down a path in the old country, weaving through thickets into the woods, where you step inside a shrine built two thousand years ago, not knowing what it […]