What. A. Quote! Now, here we have the a monolith in name, diction, style, form, class, you name it who’s greatest achievement is rekindling the fire of what makes a novel a novel, or bending, no, rewriting the rules of literature and yet despite all that here he is claiming that all he’s written isContinue reading “The Grandeur of Ordinary Life: James Joyce on Literature About You, Me, And Everyone In Between”
All of these things are true… I had been in Jordan for several weeks and my love affair with Arabian sweets had reached a lofty peak. In fact, I would begin and end each day with a platter of pastries, smothered in honeys and syrups that would flood through heaps of pistachios on my plate. Then it happened… I…Continue reading “On Arabic Sweets and the Middle East: Kunafa – NICHOLAS ANDRIANI”
Get to know Nicholas over this discussion on travel, literature, writing, life, love and losing oneself in the beautiful madness of modern life.
Writing a novel is a complicated equation involving a lot of variables and moving parts — not the least of which are the authors themselves. In fact, the process of writing a novel is so arduous and soaked in magical thinking that many writers struggle to explain the process coherently,
Our story is never-ending.
That to say, I will always love you.
Aware of this dream state which is my tendency to romanticize the past.
A strange thing happens when you begin to contemplate the end. It’s as if setting such a definitive goal opens the world to endless possibilities: a phone is buzzing,
“My sudden love of these two women came into existance upon two separate planes of thought
Like a split in the multiverse that is the self.
Shay. Shay is stability. Comfort. Success.
Whereas Ingrid. Ingrid claims the part of me which belongs to the world. A manifestation of my desire to roam freely and simply be.
But, I know in my heart of hearts these two worlds can not coexist.
For they, separately, are everything. Yet together, in the folds of life, they cancel each other out.”
–In Another Country
I mean, it’s not cheating if nothing happens. Oh, but emotions run deep. Which begs the question: What’s worse, an emotional or a physical affair?
The sky out my window is that fiery red which makes the heart swell with life and there it is again: that sensational expanding within my chest, rising to my throat, gripping and stinging my eyes. Oh, no. Not again. I bury face into the scarf. Traces of fig leaf and sandalwood bring her rushingContinue reading “The Outsider”
“I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. Feel the sun beating over my brow, speckled and damp and her brow wet like honey. The blood rushing and wet like honey. The blood rushing. The beating heart in Kansas City. The honeyed skin, the beating hearts, the beating suns. Wet like honey. A triangleContinue reading “A Triangle Under a Spotlight Sun”