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Showing posts from June, 2012

Aphrodite Rising

In the audience,
the eyes of the astonished shells.
My body is water, voluminous, untamed.
My body is light, craved, dazzling, an enigma.
My body is sand, flowing upwards through the hourglass, filling me, pushing me into lucid air, bathing me with transparence, gushing me into perfection, sculpting me free.
I am becoming a goddess. I am rising.

 © Nora Nadjarian

From  "Cleft in Twain"

Cheque Republic

The Czech girl talks non-stop, in Czech. I have no idea what she’s saying but I’m nodding my head from time to time, just so she doesn’t think I’m a fake. On the train, we’re crossing borders. Austria, Czech Republic. On the way to Břeclav. She’s saying she’s a single mother of twins. Or that her boyfriend is sixteen years older than she is. And that she sells hand-made jewellery by day and sings by night. Or that she hates what she sees in the mirror every morning. And that she spends what she earns on make-up and clothes and hides a tiny diary in the pocket of her leather jacket. And, Or. Neither, Nor.

Czech is one hell of a language. If only I knew what she were talking about. Maybe giving directions to Babylon. Straight ahead, turn right, then left, then join the dots around the park opposite the castle… You’ll see it. You can’t miss it. Maybe she thinks in Czech, dreams in German, pretends in English. Babylon is a beautiful place after all. Like that hall where a Da…

Cherries

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sometimes in my dreams i am naked picking cherries my body undressed of you were we really two or one-
the leftover pips say two too hard pips they are dead but the memory of cherry flesh is raw it bleeds my mouth sweetly wakes my body with each bite-
months years later my lips are still red moist


© Nora Nadjarian
from "25 Ways to Kiss a Man"




The Truth Is...

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... I don't do much to promote myself. And so, I've decided that starting from today and throughout the month of June, I will be posting snippets from my own work published in books and online.

I start off with a small excerpt from my micronovel "The Republic of Love", published by BluePrintPress in 2010.




In the beginning. It is the fifth of July, exactly six days before I once met Danny. I live in a house with pale blue walls, the colour of sky. The house has many windows, each of which is a different gilt-framed painting, through which I can see beauty if I look hard enough.             I am reading a letter:
            Tomorrow will be the beginning of your life. Tomorrow you will cross a bridge and embark on an authentic journey. Soon, a man will take you 2356 kilometres away from your old life, in a boat smelling of oil and fish and salt. You will wonder when you will ever step out onto the quay of another port, how long it will take before you can put down th…