• The dress, friend of the wind

    Sitting by the back window of the car, music in my ears, icy air on my face, mind blank, eyes wide and watching. I notice that next to me, a few inches away, a white dress is hanging from a hook.

  • My head is an eight-year-old girl and she’s gone on vacation

    My head is an eight-year-old girl and she’s gone on vacation

    My cheeks smile, turn into two pieces of chocolates, and a grimace crosses my face. It tells my fingers to follow its rhythm. Head that usually goes many (several) kilometers per hour, now stealthily descends.