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For the last couple of months, I felt like an entire world was crashing down on me. All the lights went off at once and I’m left feeling utterly lost for direction.

I felt like every single person turned their back on me, let me down, gave up on me, at the moment when I needed them the most.

I’ve been existing- yes, but I didn’t live. I felt scared most of the time. All the time actually. 

Everything was falling apart. I was falling apart.

But as Albert Camus once said - “Créer, c'est vivre deux fois” - To create is to live twice.

So I decided to live rather than exist. I chose art. And I know that it saved me. It really did

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Don't forget the songs that made you cry and the ones that saved your life. 

Song of the day, of the month, of the year and probably of my life.

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Just another day with my friend aka twisted sister Olivia!

Featuring the cutest pup in all the land- Luna the dog.

Ironically the loneliest people live in the big cities, and sometimes the better thing to do is to embrace it!

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There is beauty in semplicity.

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In love with this pink series! Enjoy!

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Children are the best people!

They never pose, never fake smile, never lie

 They are honest and real and they are not trying to be something they are not. 

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Transcience of Life Series

Beginning and the end, life, and death, new and old.

I did this project in order to show the fleetingness of the moment. I think it is really important to appreciate the moment, because the beauty experienced in it will never be the same. It will pass. It will end. And that is okay because as life changes, new beauty, perhaps of a different kind, will arrive. Every season the cherry blossoms die. But every year, they come back to, once again, coat the streets in their ethereal and incomparable demise.

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Excerpt from the story I’m working on

Anjelina Jankins came back to her hometown Pittsburgh after 30 years spent in England, feeling that her life broke down and last good kiss she had was years ago. She was here for redemption, trying to find the pieces of her shattered heart, looking for the answers. She was walking these familiar streets laid out by insane, past hotels that didn’t last, bars that she went to with Larry her first boyfriend. They had always felt that they were meant to be together but their goals were too different. She felt nostalgic. She was able to recognize some of the old buildings. Mostly churches.

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Haiku poems

1.

Waves are splashing underneath

The water sweeps over my feet

Soft summer breeze touches skin

2.

In the winter dawn

I look at the  running clouds

Welcoming the sun

3.

The moon is shining

Dancing with the midnight sky

Night is here at last

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Sunny Days

When sunny days are few,

when it's a bit too cold,

my thoughts return to you,

who used to be my world.

A world that was so kind

and made me feel so warm.

A world I left behind --

so now I face the storm.

Lost in a faceless crowd,

I'm learning to be strong.

I'm learning to be proud.

I just can't right the wrong.

I know I let you down.

When sunny days are few,

the city wears a frown,

my thoughts return to you.

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Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.

Carl Sandburg

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My kind of exhibition. now

Highly recommended to everyone who happens to be in NYC now

Items: Is Fashion Modern? Trailer

On October 1, Items: Is Fashion Modern? explores the present, past—and sometimes the future—of fashion design through 111 items of clothing and accessories that have impacted the way we live in modern world. Among them are iconic staples ranging from the Little Black Dress and the hijab, to the hoodie and the sari. Join us as we explore the many relationships between fashion and functionality, culture, aesthetics, politics, labor, identity, economy, and technology.

Learn more at mo.ma/items. Member previews begin September 27.

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Furrowed motherland, I swear that in your ashes you will be born like a flower of eternal water I swear that from your mouth of thirst will come to the air the petals of bread, the spilt inaugurated flower. Cursed, cursed, cursed be those who with an ax and serpent came to your earthly arena, cursed those who waited for this day to open the door of the dwelling to the moor and the bandit: What have you achieved? Bring, bring the lamp, see the soaked earth, see the blackened little bone eaten by the flames, the garment of murdered Spain.

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Her

I kept on saying no one loved me like you did, no one loved me like you did and no one ever will. Ever. Those were the thoughts that were running through my head as I was looking down at the grave. A grave where my grandmother was buried. It looked so small and lonely I couldn’t even imagine leaving Tata there on her own, in this tiny little coffin, among all those dead people, at this creepy cemetery. This place is no fun. She is not supposed to be here…

         Her death wasn’t sudden but it was definitely unexpected. Well duh, you never expect someone to die. Especially when this is someone you love. You never prepared, it always takes you off guard, no matter how old and sick they were.

I was looking at that tiny metal sign with the date of her death carved in it and began to wonder why she decided to move to another country, why left me when I needed her the most. How many wonderful  years we could have spent together, how much more I could have learned from her, what a different person I might have been right now

              She has been working on the railroad for the most part of her life, which I think explains her constant urge to always travel, ride, fly or move somewhere. The further the destination was, the better. She left our house when I was 6, so I have only the vaguest memory of our life together. The only thing I’m able to recollect as when she would set up a scene from my favorite cartoon, would fix me a lunch box,( as I was always sailing off to a long trip) and then would accompany me on the road, playing anyone from Captain Hook to Prince Charming.

I was growing up without a father, I had no siblings and my mom had to work late nights as a reporter on national television. Which is why Tata substituted me a father, siblings that I never had and the working mum. In fact, from age 1-6 she was my entire universe and I’ve never felt more loved, cherished and protected than I have with her.

No matter what happened I always knew that I had my Tata who would always be there for me, who’d destroy my enemies and chop off their heads for betrayal. In our little world, I was the king and she was my hand. Not to mention the fact that I was the only grandchild who actually had the honor to be raised by her. Every single person in our family was aware that out of all the offsprings from her three kids I was her favorite. Everybody was jealous (obviously). I was proud. Tata chose me.

But then she left. I don’t quite remember how I took it. They probably told me that she will be coming back. And she did eventually but not in a way I expected it to be.

Ever since she left, my only B-day wish was for her to come back. I missed our time together, I missed our trips to the edge of the earth, our set up home plays’, I had no hand now and there was no one to protect me anymore.

As years have gone by the memory of her was starting to fade away but I never forgot about her. I was still waiting for her patiently, just more occupied with my teenage girl problems.

For the course of 10 years, she never forgot to call me on my birthday. Most kids were excited about the new gifts and huge parties but me… I was expecting an important call from Tata.

       Little, yellow butterfly appeared out of nowhere and started flying around me and mom as we were standing next to Tata’s grave. Mom and I looked at each other without saying anything.

We knew for sure it was her.

I was 15 when she came back. I remember how we got a call from a distant relative saying that she will be coming next week, we wondered why wouldn't she call herself and would ask us to meet her at the train station.

I think it’s needless to say how thrilled and nervous I was on the day of her arrival.

We saw her walking from the distance, with the same determined look she always had. I would have never confused that confident walk with anyone else’s, she always marched as if she was leading an army.

Despite her 5’3 height, Tata was a tough cookie. I never ceased to amaze how so much strength, determination, and perseverance could fit into such tiny little creature.

I was ready to jump into her arms at any minute and to feel safe again and to catch up with her on all that what we’ve missed.  However, as soon as she approached us, we’ve noticed some confusion on her face, she seemed lost and disoriented as if she did not recognize any of us as if we were not here family.  She probably just needs more time - I figured

After a little while, we found out that she had an Alzheimer.

At first, I  was frustrated that Tata acts weird but I couldn’t really understand what was actually going on, never in my life, I had to deal with a person who had Alzheimer and at that point, I felt like it was just going to go away one day, like the flu.

And then the nightmare has started. Tata, mama and I had to share a 1 bedroom apartment for 3 years. She was agitated, aggressive, irritable and paranoid all the time. She used to wake up at 5 am, knock on my door and would start demanding to give her clothes back, which she was sure we’d stolen from her. She was yelling and fighting and was absolutely positive that everybody was plotting a murder against her. And I used to fight and yell back. I started hating the person that used to love the most and I’ll never forgive myself for that. Why did I hate her for being sick, why couldn't I understand?  I felt like that wasn’t my Tata, I felt like it was some grumpy, annoying old lady, who for some reason had to stay with us.

I said a lot of terrible things to her, and only today I realize what a selfish little brat I was.

As we were about to leave the cemetery I suddenly burst into tears, I could not look at my mom or my aunt, I could not speak, I could not move either. God, I’m going to miss her.

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The Woods

It was at the end of November.

The woodland seems ominously quiet, even the birds ceased to sing. The beginning of winter was quite clear from the bare trees and a screaming silence of the woods. It felt like there was no creature alive within thousands of miles and only nature would be the one to witness all the harshness of upcoming cold.

The trees were so giant that the sunlight hardly ever penetrated the leaves which is why it seemed like the entire woods was melting in the darkness.

Yet here, amongst these giant trees and the wilderness,  so far away from civilization was a little house.

The two-story wooden house, with a red, clay tile roof seemed quite tiny from a distance, almost invisible, sort of lost in the wilderness. However, as you get closer, you can see a warm yellowish light in the window and even hear crackling sounds of the bonfire in the backyard as well as the smell of the burning sage. It was so incredibly comforting looking at this island of hope and warmth, sort of the light at the end of the  tunnel.

If you get even closer you can hear women talking in a high-pitched voice and a bunch of kids laughing.

My heart was pounding as I was approaching the house. I didn’t know if the inhabitants of this house were my saviors or my murderers, was it my last day on earth or the first day of my new life.

So many thoughts were going through my head and I could only think about the smell of the burning sage and how my grandfather used to burn it in our backyard in Maine, to keep bad spirits away from our house.

Another five minutes passed by and I indecisively knocked on the door. The women kept on talking even louder so I turned back towards the empty road, ready to leave, completely discouraged but then I heard a creaking sound. The man with the flashlight on stood on the porch.

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The Weekend

The Weeknd’s “Starboy” - went mainstream or innovative?

My blog wouldn’t be my blog without a review on my favorite album of all time

While RnB musicians copying each other’s styles, the Weeknd avoids the usual cliches by creating some brand-new genuine RnB type of music. The artist formerly known as Abel Tesfaye dropped his new album called ‘Starboy’ on Nov. 26, 2016. This album includes collaborations with such artists as Kendrick Lamar, Lana Del Ray, Daft Punk and Future, which made this album even more long-expected. If you want “Starboy: to be good, it can be certainly that. It may only require some personal editing and also some time to start ignoring some songs’ lyrics.There are no Trilogy-like songs in “Starboy”, which can be disappointing for some of us. He mainly started gaining popularity after dropping the album “Kiss Land” in 2013. At the time of releasing it, he also presented himself as a solo RnB artist for the very first time. In less than 6 years The Weeknd happened to turn his druggy and extremely new to those days music to some classic RnB. As can be seen, this transition is what made The weekend who he is now. There is also no point in waiting for The Weeknd to switch back to his “Trilogy” days. Again, going back to something “less commercial and less popular” is definitely neither his nor his managers’ primary goal. This “brand new classic RnB Abel” is not what we all are yet ready for. It makes us also wonder If he himself likes this transition. There is still a feeling that Toronto native artist is going through the stage of embracing and liking his own new ‘pop style’ type of music. At the same time, there are other things worth hearing on “Starboy”, don’t get us wrong. “Secrets”, “Rockin”, Talking is your sleep” - you are going to catch their tune anyway. “Starboy’ is one of the best pop/RnB albums released in a pretty long time. When it comes to such songs as “Reminder”, “All I know’, and let’s say Sidewalks” we have a strong feeling that he is still inventing something interesting and unexpected. We may not feel comfortable listening to his new ideas sometimes but what if the reason is us? what if our ears so actually need this change? It doesn’t really matter either we like it right now or not this is where Abel is now standing at. Peace and blessings everyone

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Fear not

Truly an amazing read by an extraordinary young writer, producers, director and actress Lena Dunham.

I think we all love Lena because she is quite hm...relatable

In “Difficult Girl article”, she describes how does it feel growing up in therapy, putting up with all sorts of phobias,  at the age of 8 and just being a difficult kid for parents to deal with.

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/09/01/difficult-girl