Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

“Brussels is not as beautiful as Paris in the autumn” Samuel always says. You need old steel and stone to bring out autumn’s magic with its brown leaves and particular light.

“Samuel always has the perfect words to describe how he feels doesn’t he…” Jane thought. She was walking along one of the Cinquantenaire Park’s alleyways. By her side, her daughter Pauline was trotting as fast as her little legs would allow her. Further ahead, the Great Mosque of Brussels emerged from the trees and the growing sight of it got the child more and more excited with each step they took.

“And he always makes me feel like such a dumb mute when we go out with friends” she concluded silently. Barely paying attention to Pauline‘s incessant babbling, she was mentally going over last evening’s outing. She felt ashamed as always and tired of being constantly conscious of her intellectual limits.

— “Come on Mummy, I can see it from here” Continue reading

Posted in Flying, Gaelle | Leave a comment

Vida y Verdad se escriben con uve

Vida y Verdad se escriben con uve… (V) de Volar

Vida y Verdad
Se escriben con uve de Volar
Inseguridad o ingenuidad

Se escriben con uve de Volar
Valentina, Victoria y Virginia
Falsedad o profesionalidad

Se escriben con uve de volar
Valentina, que quería ser ella misma
Victoria, que quería ser libre
Virginia, que quería volar

Y ellas son las protagonistas de estos tres relatos…

Continue reading

Posted in Flying, Raquel | Leave a comment

Histoire d’une fleur

Bon, tout ça c’est bien beau, ces concours, mais moi je ne peux pas.
Pourquoi ? Parce que je n’ai pas de balcon, pardi.

Attention : je reconnais que l’idée est excellente. Notre capitale est si triste qu’on y encourage désormais les habitants à fleurir leur balcon. Des fonctionnaires de la Ville patrouilleront dans toutes les rues et ceux qui auront le plus beau balcon fleuri gagneront un prix.
Mais moi, en guise de fenêtre sur le monde, je n’ai qu’un soupirail. Et si j’y place la moindre fleur, cela réduira la lumière qui entrera chez moi, dans ce pauvre sous-sol. Continue reading

Posted in Flying, Yves | Leave a comment

I much prefer take-offs over landings


I am on a plain, I can’t complain. Or as a matter of fact I could, because I am afraid of flying, some kind of diffuse phobia I assume, as flying is so save, isn’t it? When things happen, they happen though.

Continue reading

Posted in Flying, Miguel | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Fly with Writingbrussels – Our next reading at Librebook

Friday 12 October at 6:30 p.m.
Writingbrussels is back with more flying stories.

Posted in Events, Flying, Observing Brussels | Leave a comment