What if I fall?

fly

“What if I fall?” 
“Oh my darling, what if you fly?”

Do you ever ask yourself if you like the person you are? If you are who you’ve always wanted to be? Do you know who you want to be?

To be honest, it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I realized who I really wanted to be. I want to be that guy who tells people they can fly. I want to see the magic they have stored up in their hearts for so long. And I want to make them see it, I want to make them use it. Because, truth be told, falling is just another way to fly. Continue reading

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An artist’s artist

“Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground.”Theodore Rosevelt

I think this one should be my motto, because I’m a strange mix between a realist and a dreamer. I’ve always wanted an extraordinary life, I’ve always felt that I was born to be great at something. I dream big, okay? I want to be the hero of my own life’s story, and I want it all: the good and the bad, and the great, and I never, ever give up. But I also try to keep my feet on the ground, to take it easy… step by step. To figure out exactly what foot I should place first.

To me, there are only two things worth fighting for in this life: art and love. And there are no rules of engagement. It’s all about hope, about passion, about the fight that resides inside our souls, about the spaces that rest between people… about the million different ways those spaces magically disappear. Continue reading

No More Time

Originally posted on story-a-week:

Here we are, holding hands, staring down at the dark, endless abyss. Here we are, standing at the edge of forever. Time does not exist here.

It’s just now. No future, no past. Just now. A singular moment, an infinite stretch of emotions and words left unsaid.

“I could conquer the world with one hand,” I tell her. “If only you’d hold the other.”

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How to become an artist

writerIt seems to me that we spend our childhood building our initial vision of the world. We do our best trying to answer as many questions as possible, and in our eagerness to understand everything around us, we name things and label them and we think that we’re absolutely certain that things are exactly how we see them.

And I also feel that we always return to this initial vision. Continue reading

Art is the new black

Originally posted on irevuo:

art_blackAs promised, here it is, another article about art. In my opinion, art isn’t something to be discussed in a few lines, so I feel like I didn’t make it any justice. The reason I believe so, is because the other day I only managed to establish one of the rules, today I feel like covering another aspect.

We are surrounded by many forms of art ; movies, music, poetry, novels, paintings, whatever floats your boat. Everyone is free to embrace it as they wish but things aren’t going exactly like they used to and I am aware that sounds like a cliche. Unfortunately, it’s true.

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Arting out loud

Cristian Mihai:

Indeed. Irevuo is making a comeback. Or at least trying to. Check this out.

Originally posted on irevuo:

artArt. A simple word, covering all the beautiful aspects in life. Three letters, used to sum up hours of crying, unrecognized feelings and emotions, loneliness or substance abuse. If you are not falling apart, you can’t have the word. Art is not meant to describe your happiness, but to make others happy. One’s misery can easily turn into someone’s rock, if you know how to polish it.

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Good Morning, Paris

Cristian Mihai:

In case you’re wondering what those “projects” I’m working on really are. I’m excited to introduce “story-a-week.” Each Tuesday I’ll be posting a short story. For your entertainment. And stuff. Hopefully you’ll enjoy.

Originally posted on story-a-week:

Everything she did carried with it the solemn grace of a ritual. Her mornings were alike, but never the same.

She’d walk out on the balcony of her small flat to stretch her arms and legs and breathe in the new day. Her lungs filled with something more than just air, something exhilarating and fresh, wearing a pair of black shorts and a white undershirt, her naked feet caressing the marbled floor, she’d smile at the lethargic city.

“Good morning, Paris,” she’d whisper, staring at the Eiffel Tower cutting through an angry sea of buildings, cars, and noises.

As the new day rushed through her veins, her smile would grow bigger and bigger. Her smile screamed of life and passion and love. Her smile was life.

She’d spend a few moments of quiet contemplation, thinking about what was old and what was new, about what could be, what had been…

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Fifty nine hours… and new perks

To celebrate us reaching the campaign goal I’m offering cool new perks, which will allow you to gain a bit more exposure for your blogs/websites. A win-win situation, I might say.

There’s also a Monster perk, which is quite impressive considering how much are being offered. Might want to check it out here.

Once again, thank you all for your continued support, and while there’s still time, why not help me out with a small donation. Any contribution matters. A lot.

You can help me keep this blog alive and finance my future book projects here.