Saying Goodbye without Leaving – Our next outdoor reading

Sunday 23 June on 3:00 p.m.
Writingbrussels is back with more stories: Saying Goodbye without Leaving.

Join us on Parc d’Egmont near Porte de Namur (you will find us close to the park entrance along boulevard de Waterloo) (map)

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Carrying Within

I knew, I always knew there was more to life than what meets the eye. My eye mostly met a tiny two-and half bedroom flat where nobody can avoid anybody and only on rare occasions of being home alone one can feel there is some space to breathe. On the western side of the flat the view was rather open: I saw a hill with a TV tower, a town skyline in the distance and the sky itself and there was a promise of a large world. From the eastern side of the flat I saw a long apartment building painted in brick-red. The Chinese wall, as I named the structure, blocked all the view. The sky was just a sliver of blue or grey. In the flat I spent many hours of my childhood, faintly knowing:

I gotta-get-out-of-here-one-day.

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Vivre avec son ennemi

Illustration : Klára Valentová

« Il faut abattre cet arbre, déclare Sylvia avec conviction en observant le cerisier depuis la fenêtre de la cuisine.
– Il nous gâche la vue et il fait sombre dans la maison », rajoute-t-elle.
Son mari, allongé sur le canapé du salon avec le journal, feint de ne pas l’entendre. Il ne veut pas gâcher cette paisible atmosphère dominicale, magnifiée par la délicieuse odeur de poulet qui émane de la cuisine.
« Je vais chez Luc ! » crie Jean, leur fils, en sortant de la maison. Continue reading

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I will be with you again

« All is quiet on New Year’s Day

A world in white gets underway

I want to be with you

Be with you night and day

Nothing changes on New Year’s Day

…On New Year’s Day »

Danny was singing while he walked along the countryside road that led to the farmhouse of Alicia’s parents. In his earphones, Bono from U2 sang to him that “he would be with her again ♪”. He smiled and repeated the words softly. The picket fence encircling the property appeared against the ghostly winter sky; soon it would be snowing. He slid his hand on the wood of the fence and followed it until he came to an old rusty gate. On a branch above him, a crow let out a low croak, looking at him curiously. Danny turned off his music and hoisted himself over the gate. As if she was expecting him, Molly, the family’s sheepdog, trotted towards him and wagged her tail happily. Danny kneeled down and patted her back: “hello girl, take me to Alicia will you?

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Fe, historia de una cicatriz

Esta historia me gustaría dedicársela a mi amiga Pepa, y a todas aquellas personas que luchan por los demás, para que sus vidas tengan una línea de luz.

A veces, y en función del tipo de crisis por la que estaba atravesando después de 7 años viviendo en Bruselas, lo que más le gustaba a Ruth era salir de Bruselas. Ruth era traductora e intérprete autónoma en diferentes instituciones europeas, y su trabajo le gustaba, aunque siempre supo que su vacación frustrada era la de periodista. No obstante, había llegado a tener un estilo de vida parecido al de muchas periodistas, o al menos eso pensaba ella, porque tenía amigos en todo el mundo. Tenía ya alrededor de los 50 años y un amplio bagaje viajero, gente conocida y aventuras vividas.

El aeropuerto estaba cerca, y tenía muy buenas conexiones con otros aeropuertos. Los vuelos eran muy baratos gracias a la competencia entre las aerolíneas creadas en una época de capitalismo ferviente.

En uno de esos viajes de fin de semana, se plantó en Madrid y pudo reencontrarse con buenos amigos con los que había compartido cuatro años de vida en Bruselas. Continue reading

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