ilan scribbler
Bio
When we strongly affirm to the fact that our mind is endlessly seeking a poignant creation, the inquisitiveness to find such paints a larger picture. It gains clarity when WE become the catalystic light to those roads. Cheers to the coming.
Stories (9/0)
Call Me By Your Name
Stuck inside or shall I say, more precisely, buried in lament within; the Neapolitan tune were these sad, smoldering words, “From the mouth where flowers once blossomed only worms emerge”. Who was Elio to Ulliva ? Was it a late night ice cream longing that was far, too long to get to, but worthwhile the ride ? Of course, what else if not it ? Except that kitchen had peaches prepared. Tiny, creamy blobs of our hero freshly sandwiched, glinting in live Italian sun.
By ilan scribblerabout a year ago in Fiction
hey you, the lavender in my spring.
Don’t you hate me apologizing for trivial things ? What was that term I use in over-abundance ? Oh, sorry that I couldn’t recall. And I'm still unaware of the finder of it, or may be I could be entrapped in my own conscious oblivion. SORRY if you felt even the slightest delay in the flight of my love reaching you, because I enjoyed it writing, by letting you to wander my meadows. But in the beginning before I cut you loose, you stood with this aroma. I saw lots of lavenders, but the one who kissed me, actually all of me, was this little lady who sent her curious fragrance as alluring signals. Baby, I’m nestled in your arms. Can you feel it ?
By ilan scribblerabout a year ago in Poets
Norwegian Wood
The sex that follows a conversation, the bottle of whiskey that blends people in, the strolls that brings forth joy, the dull lectures that calls for substitution, the warmth in the orgasm from running eyes through letters, the train rides with the wetness of rationed words, the lost pieces of needless advice, the kettle-poured coffee reminding places, the dandelions of love, the synchronization of weather and temperament, the pleasure in seeking pain, the little talks that leads nowhere, the comfort of loneliness, the adventures with lovers, the death of a lost friend, the leaving of a lost love, the excitement of a restored life; and the music that unites everything, everyone, all at once.
By ilan scribblerabout a year ago in Fiction
Tales from the Café
If you could go back, who would you want to meet ? Well the answer to this confusing question has been truly acknowledged and put out intensely by all the bereaved beings who traveled through time, to deliver the best possible explanations. The 2nd book in this series, Tales from the Café asks us to wrap some characters tightly around our head, because mourning time is not over yet.
By ilan scribblerabout a year ago in Fiction
Before the Coffee Gets Cold
Accompanying me is my 1st cup of pea berry coffee and I am dying to finish this review before the day’s 4th cup gets cold. This book is sewn up by stories of regret and vehement, remorseful moments in the life of the travelers. The one that captivated me the most was the story of the mother and child, where the creator get a glimpse of her beautiful child, who once belonged, without getting a chance to experience the process of bringing up. You’ll get to see why, soon.
By ilan scribblerabout a year ago in Fiction
An Exercise on Floccinaucinihilipilification
When I regress back a lustrum, the sweetening age of eighteen and its cloying consequences drools over my chemical heart, rendering my mind to prepare words for the launch. The reminiscence happens in the usual thinking station or my bedroom and the cold, springy day is hustling hard to turn this into a darg. There are purportedly two main characters and they are siblings (yes, your thought ran it right). Ladies and gentlemen, I declare that the prologue has now come to an end.
By ilan scribbler3 years ago in Motivation