Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu
Tag

feelings

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Why do I write?

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Sometimes I feel dead inside. A feeling of nothingness lurks me from around the corner, grabs my senses and throws me into a void. I write the feeling away. The keyboard becomes my best friend and every word pulls me back into this crowded world. Many people ask me when do I write? Why do I write? Do I have a schedule? Do I have a plan? I never know how to answer that question. I...

Day 332 – No feelings left to give

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I could give up tomorrow. I could just pack my bags and leave everything behind if I would be given the choice. And there is always a choice. I would abandon this beautiful city that changed my life, the amazing people I have met, the house where my daughter took her first steps, myself. I have no feelings left to give. I would do that starting now, but…I choose not to. Everyday I choose to...

Day 325 – Panic

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Forty more days to go. Forty more days and I will have finished putting my life on the screen for everyone to read about daily. Just forty more days. As the days pass I think about my final post. I have so many ideas on how to write it that sometimes it feels like my head is going to explode; but there is one thing that needs to be said: this project has taught me well and made me grow. When I...

Day 324 – Road trip

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The train took me a little outside of Florence today. I had almost five hours all to myself today, to spend as I wish, so because I love riding the train, and also the person who was waiting for me at the end of the road, I said why not? I spend a beautiful morning and afternoon, chatting and unloading a tone of feelings that have been invading me for months. By the time I got back to Florence I...

Day 323 – Human beings are works of art

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I always feel inspired when I walk the streets of Florence. Artists that live and create here inspire me the most. This morning was a source of incredible inspiration for me. After meeting three artists and talking to them about different projects we can work on together, I arrived home with a big, dumb smile on my face. Ever since The human behind the artist was born I have met incredible human...

Day 315 – No pain

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Sunday morning, happiness, straying in bed until midday, laziness… no pain. Having fun, cruising along among dreams, loving feelings…no pain. Conversations, thoughts, writing…no pain. A play, actors, friends…no pain. Proudness,  feelings, fun… no pain. Coffee,  bragging, planning, no pain. Food, chocolate, smoking… no pain. The way home, phone call...

Day 272 – Exhaustion, writing, eagerness

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As the days go by, I feel compelled doing more things I don’t necessarily enjoy doing in order to get to the ones I love. By the time I get there I am exhausted and all I want to do is sleep or just watch a lame movie until… I fall asleep with popcorn in between my fingers. Another day goes by and I haven’t worked on anything I would have wanted to; and then another day and...

Day 269 – Childless mother (part IV)

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Holding her daughter’s hand. Paralyzed with fear, invaded by memories. Seventeen years ago she was standing in a waiting room, similar to the one they were in now. Or maybe the tiles were just a little bit cleaner. She too was judging the women around her, she too was afraid of death and compromise. But she had to do it, her career was depending on her and also… also she didn’t...

Day 268 – Childless mother (part III)

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Stomach pains, vulnerability, headaches, inability to smoke, depression… peeing on a stick. Doctors, visits, wrong diagnosis, fury, collapse… peeing on a stick. Happiness, fear, pain, smoking, denial… peeing on a stick. ” I am better than this. I should have been better than this. This can’t be happening to me. Not to me, the girl who always advises other stupid...

Day 266 – Childless mother (first story)

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She could still remember that day, twenty years ago, too well. The sun was so bright, his rays somehow trying to penetrate her soul and burn her feelings. That hot, sweaty sensation, that sense of faint, that petrifying fear; they all whispered only one thing: not to do it. She could still feel the pressure on her left arm, while being dragged up the hospital’s stairs. It was the other...

Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu