Lettre à l’écrivain

Posted on 07/05/2026 by writingbrussels

Photo by Filip Kubík

Cher auteur jamais publié,

Je ne peux absolument pas dire que tu es mon auteur préféré puisque je ne t’ai pas lu. D’ailleurs, personne ne t’a lu puisque tu n’as jamais été publié.
Vous allez me dire : « Comment est-il possible d’admirer quelqu’un pour ce qu’il a écrit alors qu’on ne connaît pas une seule ligne de lui ? »
Je vais vous expliquer : je n’admire pas mon auteur pour ce qu’il a FAIT, mais pour ce qu’il EST. Il est… comment pourrais-je l’imaginer ? Pas du tout comme un héros de roman. Il n’est ni d’une beauté éclatante, ni d’une laideur repoussante. Il passerait plutôt inaperçu si on le croisait dans la rue. Continue reading →

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Dear Ursula,

Posted on 30/04/2026 by Katarina

This is a letter from I Know you to You Do Not Know Me.

Did you also write such letters in your lifetime? Those conceived in mind and never sent to your heroic models? Is a celestial pen lighter than the ink one? Be sure that you are very much present here, in this time-space reality. With your books, and, also on your social platform accounts. What shall be done with the accounts when we pass into a different dimension? Are they supposed to be maintained by loved ones or closed? Any thoughts?

Continue reading →
Posted in Dear author..., Katarina | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

One night in Boitsfort — Running with foxes

Posted on 20/04/2026 by writingbrussels

I woke up at half past one in the morning, got up and went downstairs to the living room. I saw an orange star through the southwest window. Or was it a planet? Was it Mars? Yes, Mars attacks! It attacks my feelings.

I put on my jacket and went for a walk around Boitsfort, a Brussels neighbourhood to which I had recently moved. As soon as I closed the lemon yellow garden gate behind me, I saw a beautiful fox. She stepped silently, her tail casting a large shadow on the cobble stones in my street. Continue reading →

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Michael´s Part

Posted on 26/12/2025 by Katarina

PARTS OF MICHAEL

It was dark when Michael left the building of the bank where he worked. A huge Xmas tree in the lobby was glowing, competing with many other seasonal decorations in shops and institutions along the Brussels Inner Ring. It was mid-November, a day after his birthday and an evening of his therapy session. 

‘Now, who would voluntarily come to the world in the middle of a war winter 1944?’ The therapist did not answer the question, she knew it was a rhetoric, and the best was to let Michael keep talking. He was half lying in a comfortable chair, his eyes moving behind closed lids.

Continue reading →
Posted in Body parts, Christmas stories, Katarina, Observing Brussels | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

La historia de mi diente

Posted on 19/12/2025 by Yves

Ya va siendo hora de que les cuente la historia de mi diente.

Sabrán ustedes perdonarme la rima pero de diente, ni falta hace que lo diga, no hay sinónimo y no estoy dispuesta a renunciar a ‘contar’, que no es lo mismo ni tiene el mismo sabor de oralidad que referir, explicar, narrar o relatar. Ninguno de ellos expresa el placer de la anécdota o el chisme que se deleita en el pormenor en apariencia, solo en apariencia, trivial.

Motif sans couture avec des bouches et des lèvres humaines

Crédits :paseven, istockphoto.com

Como decía, ya va siendo hora de que les cuente, que explicite con lujo de detalle, la historia de mi diente. A más de uno le parecerá banal. ¿Qué importancia puede tener un diente, uno solo, en la vida de una persona? Y quizá tenga razón quien así piense. Creo, sin embargo, que al concatenar los hechos relacionados con mi diente, que son muchos y se extienden a lo largo de toda mi vida, surgirán coincidencias o se abrirán pistas que tal vez arrojarán luz sobre algunos misterios. Continue reading →

Posted in Body parts, Dulce | 1 Comment