Autumn 2018


Love has no frame it just flows reaching the darkest corners of long kept secrets yet unexplored edges it opens at a touch and shines light on them and you stand bare facing this solid power feeling relieved so free in this bold moment of nothing else but all

author unknown

author unknown


New Normal

‘We argue often’ I tell a friend about my new man.

He wants to know what about like.

‘Various things. About me being needy, according to him, too affectionate in public places or things like dill in salad - should it be there or not.’

‘Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re like one of those American couples’ says my friend.

I don’t understand.

‘‘Every nation has the cultures of their own, even when comes it to being in love. Take the Irish. When the two discover they have things in common, mutual interest in conversation and feel pretty comfortable in silence besides woman’s grand ability to cook - off they go settle together, for comfort and peace. No deep feelings, no exploring beyond. Emotions are dangerous territory, everybody knows it and no one wants to go there, and so they don’t. Occasionally, the question ‘What’s wrong with ya?’ might pop up after an hour of one’s silence, but there always be one same answer: ‘Nothing.’ Even when little voice inside one would like to strangle another, they won’t talk about it. They just ‘put up with each other’ and move on through the day’’ says my friend.

‘You’ll be grand’ attitude - a very common approach to many things in Ireland.

‘Have you ever wondered why so many Irish couples are at the garden centre on a Sunday afternoon?’ For they’d kill each other at home otherwise!’ laughs my friend.

‘Kill’, meaning they might say more to each other than necessary.

‘English couples would be even more formal in love. Most of them - smashing characters: charming, extremely polite, politically correct, close to perfect. They get on well, have cool things in common. Emotions? Like a bowl of soup - none!
And the Americans - all over the place: my space, your space, mutual space; how do you make me feel, do you make me stronger, how much have we grown as couple and so on. OH MY GOD’, clearly dislikes the American way my friend and now I have a great laugh thinking yes, we’d be this type with my man. I recall us having an argument on the very first day we met.

‘It’s very uncommon for an Irish man’ points out my friend.

‘I agree. I’d say it’s pretty uncommon for any man, no? Desperate.’

‘Let me tell you something, girl’ adds my friend. ‘I’ve known you for almost two decades now. You do like contemplating your space and how others impact you, but you are not needy’ he says
and the red alert rings in my mind…

All sorts of things in this world behave like mirrors.

-Jacques Lacan

author unknown

author unknown


if you’re always trying to be normal, you’ll never know how amazing you can be.

-Maya Angelou

author unknown

author unknown


Letters at dusk

On the eve of All Souls he dreams of the young lady who rambled city streets, the young lady whom he came to worship but then carelessly crushed her ambition. He dreams also of Albert, who looms up to confront him, repeating that was said that quiet evening at the corner of Drawbridge Street. But, knowing that words will haunt him more frequently than ghosts, he needs no reminder.

As he awakes, he wonders whether the young lady is still in the city, or even in the country, but wherever she may be he wish is that she is well, and happy, and that something wonder-full is happening.

Later, he watches a recorded documentary about quantum physics, and is reminded that everything possible happens somewhere.

(by A.E., 2018)

The young lady is well indeed, still wandering the streets of this strange city. Life keeps amusing, challenging and inspiring her.

She knows the old man is well, too. She hopes he doesn’t think about the past too often, as she knows it’s not healthy. She especially hopes he doesn’t live with regrets, what ifs, or some other silly things humans tends to attach themselves to. She wants him to know that he owes her nothing, and that he didn’t crush her ambitions. She believes he understands the lovely story gifted to him was about him… And vice versa, of course. She wants him to know that she doesn’t have any negative feelings towards him, and that every memory of him still brings a smile to her face. She appreciates the past, for because of it she grows taller each day…

With deepest gratitude she kneels and kisses the old man’s hand.

He awakes to the thought of Love being perennial, like the grass.

Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.

-Maya Angelou

author unknown

author unknown