Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu
Tag

thoughts

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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 343 – Insight

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I believe in the power of perspective. You never know what you may change about yourself if you don’t experience a situation and see it from all sides possible. Sometimes the change you want to make about yourself after experiencing something new, may surprise you much more than you would expect. I surprised myself today. After one horrible morning I have reached a decision that took even...

Day 340 – Waiting

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Shhh…the phone might ring…shhh…nobody move because my phone might ring… shhh nobody make a sound…all of you just stop, my phone might ring. Oh wait, right! My phone sucks so it doesn’t make any sounds any more. No problem, I will hold it in my hand and not let it down, not even for a second until it rings. The last twenty five days of this project will be...

Day 316 – Some motherly thoughts

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My daughter is a cute midget who is growing up too fast. I sometimes am amazed of her progress and the choices she makes for herself. For instance her language choice is at least weird when you hear about our situation. For almost half a year now, she only wants to speak English; maybe because all of our friends are English speaking people or because she hears me speaking English a lot throughout...

Day 297 – Rainy day, Florence, work session

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Just when you start bragging to people that spring is here, that the winter coats are gone, that the sun remembered to show up in the morning, clouds gather all over the city and it’s raining, and raining, and when it stops… well, it didn’t stop all day. Usually bad weather agrees with me, although everyone keeps saying that you supposedly are moody on a cloudy/rainy day. I am...

Day 295 – Too early…too late

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5 am. Still awake. The silent house feels empty, deserted. I feel more rested than I’ve been in weeks. 5 am and it’s too early to start my day, yet too late to get some rest. This is my favorite hour of the day, not morning nor night, but somewhere in between, just like I am, always. Florence’s sky is raining and the sound gives me the chills, or maybe the guy who is standing in...

Day 291 – The beauty of a sleepless night

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I have always been kind of an owl. When I was a kid, I used to do my homework in the middle of the night and than write reports for other kids for money, so I can buy more books to read. That was my job, so I guess I can say I have been on a night shift ever since I was about thirteen years old. I never thought that you can still enjoy a nice sleepless night with a kid in the house. The kid is...

Day 287 – Sunday again

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Great coffee in the morning at our favorite pastry shop with a brioche in our hands. Being lazy in front of a nice animation, preferably with penguins or cats, then after a nice lunch, fun, games and rolling in bed. That’s how most of our Sundays look like and that’s exactly how this Sunday looks like. The moody weather doesn’t help me much with my plans of taking a nice stroll...

Day 254 – Blank

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My mind is blank. It’s like a blank page waiting to be filled, or emptied of nothingness. I can see some dots, even a comma here and there, some words nicely rounded by the pen, but no real content, no meaning. It’s just empty. Sometimes I wish human kind would have thought of inventing a better word for nothingness. It’s too plain, it’s too boring, it’s unpleasant...

Day 248 – No words

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Sometimes, when days feel a bit weirder than usual, when the stars don’t align the way they should, when I am disconnected from the world by mistake, I lose my words. It’s like they run away to another planet and despite me trying to find them, it feels like they are forever gone. What’s even weirder is that they still appear in writing, they just fail to come out of my mind or...

Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu