Posts tagged alone

Can the elephant fly?

At magical Kenneys Bookshop & Art Gallery, I had no idea I was walking over to a bookshelf with poetry. I realized it when I pulled a thin publication from the shelf with the interesting title The Elephant in the Corner. The poems it contained reminded me of the taste of every morning coffee I drunk on a graphite sofa or in completely unfamiliar chairs. Aoife Mannix – an Irish poet born in Sweden knows the smell of rented furniture and she does not afraid to present emotions that I am sometimes scared to admit, although they live with me.

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Meeting with Contemporary Iranian Theatre

Your heart knows the way. Run in that direction.

Rumi

We scroll the reality like a Facebook wall, but the excess of stimuli kills our sensitivity to ordinary things. Sometimes, we smooth our faces in Photoshop because we do not like visible fears and naive dreams. Meanwhile, theatre reveals the truth about being who we really are and what we long for at the bottom of our hearts.

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The Work On My Book

A few years ago, I got an idea for a book about middle-aged women who consistently work with passion. In Ireland’s humid and changeable climate, I met many self-satisfied women, and they made me love my graying hair. I made interviews to find out how they keep fire in their hearts and shape into action. However, when I wrote seven chapters, I locked them in a file for four years. Not because I didn’t want to continue with this idea, but simply because I didn’t organize my time to work on the book.

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Flamenco Rhythm Of Everyday Life

Outside the window, I hear the sound of a hammer hitting the metal sheet. My cup of coffee is touching the saucer sonorously. A knife creaks on the glass board as I cut the bread, and the bottle of olive oil hits the worktop. Even though it is an ordinary Wednesday, I put on my blue flamenco shoes which I brought from Cadiz, and tap out my internal beat on the kitchen floor.

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My December Cards

There is a cobalt sky behind the window, and a well-known house with a red door. Colourful lights hung on a curtain rod shine with peace. Its glow is reflected in the chocolate cup saucer.

I take out a small table and blue chopping board on it. Next to it, on the sofa, there are old magazines, extraordinary papers, scraps, and a pencil case with liners, scissors, and glue.

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