Improper Expression Acts Like a Denture

Improper Expression Acts Like a Denture

Writing capabilites unfold in the language. It is not important what you write about. What is important is how you write it. The approach, the subtle language skills, the surface, the softness and hardness of this surface. These are the things that make your literary work unique.

Lives of Mayhem

Lives of Mayhem

His jaw was dislocated but he didn’t care. The other one couldn’t be hurt with his right uppercut, because he tightened his abs just in time, but the following left hook caught the bastard’s ear. Now, it was the other one’s turn, who stepped to the side, spinned...
The Rhythm of Language

The Rhythm of Language

When you listen to music, what is it that wakes a certain mood or feeling in you? With what tools does it achieve its particular atmosphere? Music and writing is the same from a lot of aspects. What in music is a period, in writing it’s a sentence. A cadency in...
Trance

Trance

I bow down to pray. The whole space of the church appears in my thoughts, the fourteen columns around the altar, the eleven four-petalled flowers on the gallery’s parapet, pictures which tell the story of Jesus, the organ whose right central cross is missing and the...
Coffee

Coffee

Five in the morning, chilly, cold morning, everything is blue or grey, the roads fill up with cars, the traffic lights are on, the rest of the city lights are turned off, the people cautiously creep out on the streets, the first sunshine gleams. The bartender sweeps,...
A Pile of Memories: the Body

A Pile of Memories: the Body

Anarchy. That was his first thought. The pen pattered loudly as it touched the paper, releasing its tint which was spilled out on the paper in its irregular dimples. The writer sat in the middle of a family conflict, while animals were running back and forth, tiger,...
Missa Bestialis

Missa Bestialis

Decus ferocitatis bestialis Quaseo, cum tui molis, cudate, dei, adversarium, vos cudate, dei, adversarium. They put a hood on my head and take me away. I’m humming the sacred mass. “I call forth the sinner”, I hear the nearing sound. I climb some stairs, the wood...
Plop

Plop

The gate opened and Culmo was pushed in by the wind. In the protected hall lights were sitting in a circle, lights much bigger and purer than him, watching him with surly faces. The wind was ominously blowing a Gregorian chant. Suddenly, everything lit up and the gate...