Writer In Florence

Ela Vasilescu

About me

ev_webI’m a story hunter based in Florence, Italy.

Human nature inspires me, different cultures, traditions, folk stories, and the differences which make us unique. Documenting stories is a privilege, a glimpse into humanity, an unforgettable experience, one which I embrace and honor every day.

If you have a story twitching in the back of your pocket, one that is ready to be told, shared, and heard, chances are I will be ready to listen; so don’t hesitate to send me an email.

You can read some of my words on Medium, follow me on Facebook, and Instagram or check out my Linkedin profile.

Latest stories

Becoming a grown-up


It’s hard to be a grown-up, they say. It’s not as easy as you’d think, they say. Like any child, I wanted to grow up faster, to be able to do more, to not be conditioned. The grown-ups always looked at me and smiled, telling me that they are conditioned more than children. ‘There are more rules than you think, and all you have is responsibility and no joy,’ a family member once told me. I...

What would you like to hear?


We face things. We set goals. We strive for more. What would we like to hear from the people close to us? There comes a time when even the most solitary human needs to be encouraged or know that he is being thought of by others. Depending on the moment and the set goal, each of us has different things we would like or need to hear. Those words often don’t match the words that come from the mouths...

Beginnings are exciting. Beginnings suck.


“I hate hiking.” I stood by this statement no more than three years ago. Despite my active background, despite years dedicated to a professional sport, I believed a picture of a mountain top could be admired just the same without making an effort to walk up that mountain. I was the laziest person I knew. “I hate mornings. I hate new people. I hate moving.” I had a lot of...



The ‘100 words stories’ project is now on exhibit at Pop Art Gallery in Florence, Piazza Santo Spirito for the entire month of December. Six photos, together with six ‘ 100-word stories’ were carefully selected to be displayed in one of the cafes close to my heart. Gathering my old experimental photos and putting them together with my words felt so right it scared me. It...

Walk into my story


A writer’s life is a constant carousel of emotions. We place our soul and thoughts on a silver platter and offer it to be dissected, judged, enjoyed, shared. A writer’s life is also a solitary life; most writers I talk to tend to lock themselves in a room and spend their time with their characters, building a new world. I, for one, surround myself by people, sit in a square and watch...

After a while, things settle down


I’ve been thinking a lot about this post lately. I abandoned the online environment for more than two months; two months during which I experienced emotions for almost a lifetime (at times more than I bargained for). I wrote less, and I worked on existing projects more. I planned my next steps. All done in silence and far away from the ‘social’ of nowadays. I disappeared, yet I...

Today in sentences


Today my eyelids cursed the morning sun rays who managed to sneak in and rest on my face. I took my daughter to school and hugged her, already missing her presence for the rest of the day. I had coffee with my husband and chatted about meaningless things because our brains were still not fully awake. I wrote a story about a loved one I had lost and took a stroll in the center to have coffee with...

Stop. Walk. Shout. Feel. Heal. Talk.


We never hope for the best. That’s just a saying that screws up our entire emotional, co-dependent system. Hope for the best even when you desperately want to die. Hope for the best even when the world implodes. Hope for the best even when your whole being is just a piece of paper, all used up, written on and ready to be thrown into the trash. Why hope? Why not do? Do the best, be the best or at...



Romania is my country. I was born there. I grew up, laughed, cried, suffered, experienced true happiness there. Then I left it, tears in my eyes, my spirit crushed. I’ve hidden it deep in the corner of my soul and refused to share it with the world. I escaped it, alienated myself from its people, put my memories in a drawer and firmly locked it. I found a new country to call home, build a...



I kept you in my womb, and you terrified my being. I held you in my arms, and you were everything. When you began to speak, you filled me with joy. When you cried, you provoked my anger and tickled my insecurities. I knew no other life when you came into this world, yet I was human and longed for freedom. As I was holding your hand one day, you asked me to let go. I felt alone, empty and...

Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu