The green light
A man sat slackly in an armchair, enveloped in the darkness of his apartment. He was taking a swig of cheap rum for every name that was announced on tv. He was shaking his head in a tipsy haze, leading a quiet, incoherent argument with the tv announcer.
The raging bull
"Dance!" He threw his hand up at the crowd "Go on! Dance!" He bent his elbows by his sides and started swaying his fists side to side in a tense and edgy manner. A bewildering smile stretched his lips, not matching sharp focused look in his eyes: they were darting from guest to guest, looking at everyone, seeing no one. He jerked his face in the direction of a nervous chuckle, squinted his eyes and shouted approvingly with exaggerated theatrics:
The Long Thaw
It is 4 AM in Brooklyn. Time when the city is still enveloped in peace. I roll to my side, staring at the square neon numbers on my clock. It is the same every year, to the minute. On the dot. Every February - the sleep abandons me.
Blackbrows, Velveteens, and Imeretian Saffron:
Marigold as one of many National symbols of Ukraine How had it become one, not being a native flower? Many years ago, arriving in an oiled leather satchel, the seeds were thrown into unfamiliar, but welcoming Ukrainian soil. They grew strong and tall stalks, nourished by abundant rains and nutritious turf. Fringed leaves unfurled and spread, golden heads bloomed and filled out with velvety broad petals. Hence one of the names assigned to it in Ukraine- Velveteens. The accommodating flower bloomed early and stayed bright throughout the summer, it dried beautifully and filled the house with warm scent during the winter. Marigolds were added to wreaths and headdresses, embroidered on shirts and grown around the houses as a symbol of good fortune. The Ukrainians have grown to love the versatile flower so much they composed legends and sang songs about it, so the flower had become a part of Ukrainian culture, taking deep root in folklore.
You know what to do
What makes an experience real? A true happening, raw emotion not bound by the body- what proof can there be that it was real?
A cut, a slash and a carve
What do you see when you look at the blank sheet of paper? An origami to be made? A beautiful painting yet to manifest? Maybe you see the words of a thrilling adventure novel fall in lines, eager to be written. Me- I see a story. Stories have accompanied me through childhood into present day. I visualized them, drew them, wrote them and one day I started carving them into paper. I don't remember my "AHA" moment, the realization that the knife was needed or how I should do it. I remember that I was anxious, a swarm of thoughts and ideas buzzing restlessly in my mind, looking for a way out. I bought the tool - a small handle with interchangeable blade heads, each one perfect for a specific mission, I bought a stack of thick paper in array of colors. And as soon as my blade touched the paper- my thoughts have found their relief.
Show some love
A magical, sun drenched morning arrived after a long night of rain. The breeze wakes me, gently brushing my hair and blowing up the thin lace curtain. I lie in bed watching the birds jumping mindlessly from one branch to another- it is a marvelous morning, truly. The waft of coffee creeps into my room and a soft humming reaches my ears. He is in the kitchen, dancing to his own hum, bobbing his head full of hear, making an omelet. My hug startles him and slightly embarrassed he puts away the spatula to give me the softest hug and the most tender kiss.
The world post sharks
It started as everything in the US does- with a post on social media. A post that quickly gained the followers and opposers. A post that could have been a joke taken too seriously and photoshop done a little too well. Maybe it was real- I don't know, and frankly, none of it matters any longer. My two cents- had I the ability to go back in time and completely obliterate that post from existence- I would do so in a heartbeat.