Ellen Schoenaerts is a Belgian musician that sings in Flemish, a language I can barely speak or understand, especially when it comes to listening to songs. Thus, my lineup of…
Read More
*** They sat next to each other on the piano bench. The night, without candles. They played ‘Le Sacre du printemps’, for four hands – The native – Stravinsky’s –…
*** Slow it was. Its Excellency – The snow! The snow was waltzing Into the sea, It was. Unable to hide its passion. Was it Madame Karenina? Yes, Anna! Was…
*** The alarm of seagulls Wakes me up every morning. They screech and they squawk, While I am swimming and turning Under the blanket, Trying to note down what they…
*** The tissue of ancient trees, delicate laces of limbs, imprints of leaves and seeds are left on the sand of the beach And on the palm of your hand….
*** One day the sun will become just another cold star In someone else’s night sky. One night your eye will turn to just another coffee plant In someone else’s…
*** The dusk came suddenly, in purple. Worth my entire library, All greatest symphonies, World’s best cinematography, Each marvellous museum. It’s sunset! The sunset I have read, Articulated, I have…
*** My daily trek with gentle rises and falls In tiger-coloured peaks of sand, Along a dune belt. I stop to catch my breath And sunset. The rose pinks and…
*** This is a strange winter: A nymph is chased by lavender tea smells. Fleur de Sel dawns. Sands laid with flowers. Swirls of chicory leaves in the mouth. Lady…
*** One step away from lips, The wax – a liquid kiss – Gets spilled right on the floor Under four feet In all its gentleness. A glimmer in the…
