Emilio solía llegar cerca del mediodía, casi siempre con su hermano Héctor, a veces con otro ayudante y alguna vez con los dos. La semana anterior había avisado que vendría el lunes a primera hora pero pasaba el lunes entero sin que apareciera, llegaba la mañana del martes y, justo cuando estábamos por sentarnos a almorzar, tocaba el timbre y había que levantarse a abrir. Continue reading
Photo by Jonathan Eden-Drummond
desaparecerán un día,
disueltas en el aire del tiempo,
las altas torres
donde se mira
la luz crepuscular. Continue reading
We are storytellers. Not just we, the writers, but we, the humans. We put a story on and around everything and believe it to an astonishing degree. Stories also serve to simplify and understand a situation. It is overwhelming how different people would experience the same situation differently.
Often, people would have a distinct story ready for various listeners: One for the husband, one for the lover, and one for the stranger we want to impress. Like the Brussels plumber, he has a story of his life adapted to each client. Veronika will tell us, soon, about him.
There is also a time to go beyond any story. Continue reading
At the primary school, we learnt to write the number 2 visualizing the shape of a swan. I do not know why. To make the tedious repetitive task more appealing? A row of swans in my lined notebook, each one slightly different from another. The year 2022 has three swans in it. Swans are both graceful and menacing creatures; you do not want to swim too close to them. Even our Brittany Spaniard Maggie dog knew that, and she was an excellent swimmer and a water bird hunter by genes and reputation.
Continue reading
Plongée dans une douce pénombre
Ma chambre prend une couleur bleue
toute seule, je n’ai pas peur des ombres
même s’il fait sombre quand il pleut
click on pic
writingbrussels 