I lived in New York and something stayed there…

Virag, why don’t you write?  A ticking bomb in my soul. Something that wants to happen but I hold it back. So, really. Why don’t I write? ‘I used to cry but I don’t have time…’ – this is the only answer I get while asking my question aloud under the shower. I am in tears. The warm…

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why I wish I would be a guy

I would be Paul. Yes, my name would be Paul and I know it for sure, as a matter of fact. I was fourteen when on a rainy day nothing seemed more interesting than climbing up to our dim lit attic and play Sherlock Holmes without actually being asked to act as one. Opening boxes…

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My story …

This essay was written for the contest of Writer’s Digest asking for  a short story, of 750 words or fewer, that begins with the following line of dialogue: “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.” My story is a true story…reads as follows: “If you can guess what I have in…

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