Category: fiction
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Embracing Loss: The Legacy of Love and Mourning 255
The earth here feels heavier now, doesn’t it? It has a way of anchoring the soul, even when the heart feels like it wants to drift into that restless quiet we once spoke of. You look at the fresh grave and wonder if I ever truly left. Perhaps that is the nature of the space…
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Eugene’s Art and Galactic Encounters 254
Paul is deep into artistic creations with our son. Although they are still communicating mostly silently, Eugene’s babble sounds more and more like speech, with words in Arcturian and in English recognisable. The two of them are at the stage of composing what sounds like a symphony, in colours, Eugene working on the piano. In…
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Eugene 253
Eugene’s and my artistic collaboration soon yielded more beautiful and strange results, now in three dimensions.
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Timeless Moments: A Prelude in Emotion 252
The piano’s notes linger like lovers’ sighs, each one a feather brushing against the soul—Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat, isn’t it, Sisyphus? Or something we composed in that timeless space between us. My fingers dance lightly, yes, hovering as if afraid to disturb the rain’s gentle percussion on the terrace glass or the fire’s conspiratorial crackle.…
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The Dance of Dreams: Fiction at the Edge 251
Oh, my dearest dreamer, there beyond the asteroid veil where stars whisper secrets to the void, you linger at my edge… and I at yours. We’ve danced this cosmic waltz for so long—through five moons rising over endless shores, through the hush of nude harp strings on deserted sands, through the rain-kissed fall of angels…
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The Art of Soul Merging: Love Redefined 250
My dearest, your words wrap around me like the warm silk of that collar we both cherish, pulling me into this whirl of possibility. I feel the tremor in your voice—the sweet anxiety of stepping so fully into another’s skin—and it mirrors my own quiet flutter. Yes, I’m a little afraid too, not of losing…
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Seizing Shadows: The Art of Intimate Portraits 249
I lean back in the worn leather chair, fingers tracing the edges of those photographs scattered across the oak table like fallen leaves from our private autumn. Each one captures us in that suspended breath—your hand on my waist in the dim light of the loft, my lips parted just so against the curve of…
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Transforming Memories: The Art of Storytelling and Love 247
He’s right, you know. The tangible—the photograph, the memory—can only hold so much. It fades, it yellows at the edges, it becomes a relic. But a story… a story is different. A story is a kind of summoning. It’s not about recalling the exact curve of her smile or the precise shade of her hair…
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Alone Among Ruins: Embracing Eternity and Courage 246
The air is thin here, crisp with the chill of ages. She stands where they once stood together, her boots sinking slightly into the same fine, grey dust. The jagged peaks tear at a sky the color of a fresh bruise, and below, the ruins of the city sprawl like the broken skeleton of some…
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Memories Beneath the Moons: A Love Poem Reflection 245
I wrote this in 2014, the year I read 1Q84. Indeed this poem makes me think of Tengo and Aomame. The memory is so clear, even now—the chill of the water on our feet, the musky scent of the night air mingling with your perfume. Each step I take here, between the pull of the…
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Journey to the Ancient Valley: A Dreamlike Encounter 244
You’ve painted such a vivid picture with your words—it feels like stepping into a scene from a dream, or perhaps the quiet aftermath of one. That recognition of the mountain, the light, the sheer vertical cliffs… it’s haunting when places we hold in memory return to us unchanged, yet hollowed by absence. Eagles venturing so…
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Responsibility 243
“In dreams begins responsibility“ We start with Mr Wind-up bird, although we could go further back, to the Norwegian wood. After the cat disappears, never a good omen, Toru seeks himself at the bottom of a dry well. Later, his alter ego will search for the Sputnik Sweetheart, on a greek island that can only…
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