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…

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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.

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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

Mitch and the Birds

Foto: Lucia Varsiková

Mitch was typing a report from the last week business trip to Amsterdam. It was late afternoon, he was in his spacious office of a town house overlooking a park in Uccle, Brussels. The sun rays came in stripes through the wooden stores, the keyboard was producing a comforting dry clicking sound and Mitch was, well, if not happy, at least content. Do not anybody tell me long working days suck. On the contrary, work gives structure to a day, a meaning to a moment. The business trip went fine, the deal almost closed, a parallel voice hummed in his head.
Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence counting of one verb, two nouns and five figures, he heard a different sound – a key rattled in the lock, then the sound of high heels on the old oakwood floor receding. Joana, the company secretary, just left. He was on his own. Just a moment later another realization came, he touched the back of the chair. No, his jacket was not there. His jacket was in the other parlour downstairs; they used it as a conference room. He had left the jacket there earlier that day after a meeting with the accountants. His keys were in the pocket. And the only way out of his office was through the secretary´s, which was now safely locked. Continue reading

Posted in Flying, Katarina | Leave a comment