Merry metropolis of ardour; artery of inflamed intensity; luminous lullabies, frolic fortitude ensembles eagerly the aesthetics we adore. From Plaça Reial to Casa Milla you stimulate the papilla; from Montjuïc to Montserrat the views you grant are never flat; from las playas to Las Ramblas perpetually catering to the…
How do I compare you, to all whom I once loved. It may seem strangely trivial, but it will make my heart soft. My Heathcliff you are, filled with passion and gravitational urges; my Severus you are, an elusive mystery – pure enigma to solve. My Darcy you are,…
It ended with a kiss, your arms still wrapped around me. I, too afraid of rejection – You, unsure of my intention. In your eyes I recognised my hurt; mine mirrored your desire. Three days of bliss under the scorching sun. Laughter, questions and a stolen touch. Your…
I love the ground upon which I rest, it holds my bones, it takes my breath. Solid earth and juicy leaves, cover me from empty grieves. Darkness keeps the night away; there will not be a brand new day. This bed is laid, I close my eyes -…
Sitting underneath a starless sky, Darkness creeping infinitely nigh, Upon this night so cold and so wry, The nothingness reaches farther than a single cry. In the far distance the eye does behold, An ovoid beauty of promise and gold, Posture and elegance in grand they uphold, An unexpected…
Rashid had to look twice to make sure his eyes did not deceive him. Was that really a sheep he saw crawling uphill towards him? Actually, the crawling wasn’t even the strangest part about the creature that was coming towards him in a vast pace; it had the legs of a turtle and the solid shell of one on its back as well.
The boy wiped his eyes fiercely, yet it proofed useless – that same weird mixture of a sheep and a turtle was still there. “A sheep and a turtle, it’s a shurtle!” thought Rashid in disbelieve.
It was a chilly afternoon in July, when two teenage boys walked into a small clearing in the thick Cornwall forest. Tommy and Bill, best friends since birth, were in deep conversation. They did not hear the birds singing. They did not realise that the sun was desperately trying to warm their surroundings. They did not notice the little bunny who had been following them curiously for the past fifteen minutes. They were consumed with their mutual adoration for one thing, and one thing only: Master Defender, the popular videogame.
It’s Summer and I haven’t written as much as I intended, so far. I did get a lot of inspiration for #PakispanishLover (as if I needed more of that!), after spending more time in Barcelona with the man himself. That project is going well, under circumstances – I have written a few more poems, written a few more pages and I have decided on the ending for the story.
At the moment I am working on two books. The first is my biographical political novel – which sounds much heavier than it actually is. The working title of this book is Man With Dog, so in these updates I’ll refer to it as #manwithdog. Since I started plotting this book in 2014 I have come up with an actual title but I keep that to myself.
In a world as fast and stressful as ours, it is pivotal to release yourself once in a while. In time, we all come up with different ways to do this, some more effective than others. One can exercise, go to the bar, dance, scream, or watch Netflix; all good choices which should lift you up. I’m advocating for a lesser known yet rather compelling…
Sitting on a bench in the local park, I am letting the sun warm my face. Around me are couples enjoying each other’s company, picnicking in the grass (in the area where dogs pee – but they don’t care! They are in love.); other dog owners chatting amongst each other; mothers proudly watching their children play and fathers teaching their daughters to ride a bike. I am happy. A little boy, not much older than four shuffles past me; one hand clenched…
Let’s start right away! You are a writer and director. That makes me curious: What is your favourite book and what is your favourite movie of all time?
Such a hard thing to answer. I don’t have a favorite of either, but I can certainly share a book and film that have held a place in my heart and echo in me. “A Woman Run Mad”…
Maggie Lawson has proven over and over again that she is an actress whose performances rise above mediocricy. Talent and natural charisma are only pocketchange though when one is up against chliche writing in a middle of the road tv show.
While I greatly admire Joel McHale and Stephen Fry, both men kings of intelligent comedy in respectively the US and the UK, they must have been misguided in their judgements…
There are certain things that can make or break an episode–them being different for every show of course–so when Suits brings in pop culture references (in this case even interwined with historical ones), fun banter between Harvey and Mike, sharp dialogue, and an empathic side to Louis, I’m already halfway there to proclaiming an outstanding episode.
To poach or not to poach, that is the question. There was more poaching going on in this episode, than in the combined works of Miss Julia Child. At some point I was confinced that ‘poach’ must have been the ‘Word of the Day’ on Modrovich’s calendar! This is how drinking games are created… Someone please give this otherwise great writer a Thesaurus
