Writing fiction is the act of weaving a series of lies to arrive at a greater truth. ― Khaled Hosseini
It was one lazy Sunday afternoon. My husband decided to do cooking and laundry to give me a break from those mundane weekend activities. Alone in a corner, I was reading the first story from Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” and I was sobbing.
There was a part about mother-daughter relationship that made me speculate about a time in future when my mother won’t be around. Continue reading “Fictions and Feelings”
Once in a while, when people around me go to exotic locations or restaurants to celebrate holidays, I step into a library. The city library is heaven. I mean, if heaven exists, then it looks like a big library, with old books and well cushioned armchairs.
Once in a while I sit here and write out many things. I call them “word tears” from the eyes of the soul. Drop by drop. Word by word. Those words are solitude lovers, they hardly travel. They are hidden somewhere in a pretty peony printed diary. Continue reading “Library, The Quiet World Of Stories”
I always wanted to build a library. A library of my own.
I love collecting books, referring to my favorite lines, going back to read between the lines to connect missing dots. But I’m a traveler, I travel light. I don’t want to leave books in a trash, sell them to a stranger who won’t love them the way I want them to do. I’m a possessive lover of my favorite books. Continue reading “Love is a new book”
Words. I love them. They can be healing. They can be dreadful. They can speak up to fill all the voids. They can create silence too. They are powerful, for sure. Continue reading “Wordless Wednesday: What speaks to me”
The City by C.P. Cavafy
You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried as though it were something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I happen to look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.”
You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you. You will walk
the same streets, grow old in the same neighborhoods,
will turn gray in these same houses.
You will always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere else in the world.
Continue reading “The City”
When I am busy, my days rush like Olympic sprinters and I go with the flow: fast, faster, fastest. I love chasing time. Then just like all sprinters and marathon-achievers I feel tired after that long race. I slow down and seek peace.
Continue reading “That nobody told me yet..”
Happy Thanksgiving ! Thank you for the readership and support, for your inspiring articles , your witty comments , our funny moments. Continue reading “Happy Thanksgiving!!”