Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Life

Quote of the day

“(…) a human being should never become a means to an end. But already in the economic system of the last few decades, most working people had been turned into mere means, degraded to become mere tools for economic life. It was no longer work that was the means to an end, a means for…
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In love

with our bodies we prayed in their mutual giving, and our souls we laid bare in hope-laden heaving – our hearts, back then, a warm, welcome den, irresistible to each other, like water, like fodder, our chests throbbing magnets with manifold facets, now trifling clocks counting down the roadblocks to fame and to glory, our…
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Quote of the day

“Technique conferred a sense of power: man is now much less at the mercy of his environment than he was in former times. But the power conferred by technique is social, not individual; an average individual wrecked on a desert island could have achieved more in the seventeenth century than he could now. Scientific technique…
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Blinding

blinding the sun in the autumn leaves after yesterday’s rain the smile on a child’s face when she’s healthy again headed to school to meet friends trying on a new outfit her and the planet both like plugging back the missing link in the circle of life. I need to go back to sleep but…
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People call it October (III)

the air is crisp and cool the leaves are crisp and dying your walk on the levee, now, a brisk jog home. the horizon, burgundy, ashen, like a once raging fire put out by the night. from the river banks, a spectral mist, rising – reeking of sweet rot, all-engulfing – makes everything forgotten: the…
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People call it October (II)

it’s always best when you don’t know where you’re going. let the path take you where you need to be. if your feet hurt, sit on the bristling grass, straddle the shoulder of that hill, whisper a loving prayer, or maybe even weep a little. put one foot forward – doesn’t matter which, but don’t…
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People call it October (I)

I walk. I think nothing of it. I walk. I hear nothing but the raspy sound my boots make on pebbles the wheezing past of dragonflies in their autumnal attire the leaves – still green, crackling dry, floating in silence without aim. people jogging, imagining they’re going places. dust. hearts beating, heaving, panting, the trunks…
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Quote of the day

“To pit oneself against the mountain is necessary for every climber; to pit oneself merely against other players, and make a race of it, is to reduce to the level of a game what is essentially an experience. (…) What he values is a task that, demanding of him all he has and is, absorbs…
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I don’t

I don’t have the right face for my feelings. I’m not beautiful. My features aren’t exquisite – soft, elegant, dainty – no, they are quite banal. I have a mean frown and people suspect coarseness inside indeed my core is hard and rough and uneven – like scars, dry and drying, like crackling scales. I…
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On the outside, looking in

This, this, I tell myself, this see-through envelope of blueness that contains us, this fluid in which we move, this shallow film of sunlight collecting into magnanimous pools, rippling, cascading, eroding, building its deep dark wells of forgetfulness, turning our chunky limbs of flesh into ethereal shadows that precede us slanting, hovering, levitating, always one…
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In search of lost time…

… my most recent contribution to the FB flash fiction group “Ficțiuni Reale” (Romanian only) can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/366117403460275/posts/9154969441241650/?comment_id=9154978477907413&notif_id=1682955213803360&notif_t=group_comment&ref=notif
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Easter itineraries – or in search of inspiration

Nowhere else is the sweet stillness of spring and the cheerful chirruping of songbirds as soothing as in the Romanian countryside in those last quiet hours before Easter, at the foot of a mountain dotted with caves and age-old monasteries. We spent three days around the northern parts of Gorj and Valcea counties in southern…
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