Tag: creative writing

  • Reflections: Regrets. Past. Experience

    Reflections: Regrets. Past. Experience

    “Don’t have any regrets. You couldn’t have done anything different back then. You would have had to be a different person.” Bernhard Schlink, The Woman on the Stairs Photo: Muhmed Alaa El-Bank

  • Directions: Choices. Uncertainty. Experience

    Directions: Choices. Uncertainty. Experience

    “Whenever I’m in a foreign country, I ask myself if I’d be happier there. When I walk down a street and see people standing on a corner, talking and laughing, I imagine that if I lived there, I might stand happily on that corner, talking and laughing. When I walk past an outdoor café and…

  • Directions: Past. Meaning

    Directions: Past. Meaning

    „I do not rue my age. I don’t envy the young for the lives they have ahead of them; I do not want mine before me again. But I do envy them their short past. When we’re young, we can survey our past. We can give it meaning, even if that meaning constantly changes. Now,…

  • Żałoba

    Żałoba

    “Pająki to istoty żałoby. W wierzeniach Igbo stworzenia te ściągają do domów znękanych rozpaczą, przędąc ogrom pajęczyn i tkając bezszelestnie, gorliwie, dopóty ta skłębiona przędza nie zaleje ogromnych przestrzeni.” Chigozie Obioma “Rybacy” – na Wielki Piątek Przekł: A. Brownstein

  • “Game of Chess”:  An excerpt from “Warrior King” by James W. Williams. All rights reserved.

    “Game of Chess”:  An excerpt from “Warrior King” by James W. Williams. All rights reserved.

    I should have learned to play chess, replacing my need for combat and strategic affairs for sport with little life-less objects that would invariably crush my ego in defeat with no human blood letting in the theater of battle. And if by chance I was victorious in this game of life – I’d dream of…

  • A Lesson of a Desert

    A Lesson of a Desert

    There is a church on the outskirts of the desert. I went there once, led by the unknown. I passed a checkpoint and entered the gates. I walked to a fountain in a courtyard, washed my hands, and touched my forehead and my lips with water drawn with a rusted mug. I left my shoes…

  • Rzeka

    “Było już ciemno, kiedy się obudziłam. Zrzuciłam suknie, a moje ciało lśniło w świetle księżyca i ogniska, przy którym spali Johann i Magdalena. Naga, zawołałam Magdalenę. Przyszła, dotknęła mego policzka i piersi i okadziła mnie kiściami szałwii i piołunu. Weszłam do rzeki i położyłam się na plecach. Nurt uniósł mnie ze sobą. […] Modliłam się,…