When I am sad and I've lost hope that the night would turn into daylight, I string a couple of words on a piece of paper, the way you thread colored little stones that you plan to wear around your neck during a carefree tropical vacation. The effect stones me. It is like rubbing my skin with a loess rock: writing has the power to rip off each layer of dead skin, leaving me red marks but also a shiny new epidermis that I need for the next dramatic event in my life.
And I will use the stone again and again. I cannot be myself again without the stone. I have to rub and to scrub my skin to stay in power and detach from my past.
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A blog about synapses, axons, dendrites, nerve impulses that occur in my brain when I see, hear, touch, smell, taste. It's about things I remember and things I want to happen.
The backbone
The belief
- Malina
- I think that soup is a noodle ivy that climbs on your throat and chokes hunger. I believe that the air can tell you what is happening far away at this very moment.
The time
The tracks
The short list
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