The idea was writing a poem in Greek and then translating it to English and Spanish. However, it appeared almost impossible to stick to my original poem. I realised that each translation was re-telling a different part of the story of the original poem. This is why the three resulting (almost identical) poems have different titles. Also, as I am not yet fluent in Spanish I apologise for any mistakes or awkward phrasing.
-p1
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This poem is to appear in a zine anthology called "Meu útero é uma bomba" a publication by the Centre of Comparative Studies of the University of Lisbon which will be edited by Vanessa Montesi and illustrated by Prisca Milanesi. You can also find this poem on Mouthing off Magazine! The link to the page can be found below. In IsolationMy house is now the ocean floor Serene, so silent; so left alone Some nights are dreams of noise and life Dark nights of phantom, starry skies Bright, blue waves; warm, grey gravel Salty, humid, sandy marvel My joined hands towards the surface but right before I make the move, a music. Loud, distorted, out of tune shatters the layers of the sea Voices. Ugly, rude, chaotic yelling, singing, laughing. What else is left apart from skies? Apart from warm, bright, salty sights? Violent howls, deceitful yearnings Dirty funds to buy more waste Walls with signs for sunny summers Built by bricks of blood and burgers Eyes toward the ocean floor. The greenest bed has turned to fire The pain has spilled The torment spoils Who am I? I float as air. I fly as water. As passing wind, as flowing stream, the cliffs, a tree What else is left for me to be?
This week's entry is a gallery that consists of examples of our quarantine menu. We have also included pictures from the process in some cases. The order is chronological from latest to earliest. This rather impromptu entry is not the result of a lazy week!!! Quite the opposite actually! In the next couple of weeks we will (most probably) have one of our works published in a feminist blog! When our work: ''Feminist Reflections; The concept of ‘The Genius’ and Mainstream Misogyny; A literary reflective exercise' is ready we will share it with you ! ! This is us bragging for our culinary achievements but it is also us telling our story through food. Through the tastes that bring us home, the recipes that excite us and keep us busy, the odours that bring back memories. Each dish tells a different story; its own story of either success or failure, our desire to create, our desire to remember, our multicultural influences; where we come from and where we live. We are creating a new type of gourmet or traditional depending on how you see it.
-p1and2 I want to say: ‘I miss you.’ You should always be honest about your feelings, I know that but, I guess you don’t have to say everything all the time. Like, you know, I said what I had to say. Just wait until tomorrow. Don't say anything yet because you will regret it. Don't say anything now because you are simply experiencing a moment of weakness. You are right. My fatal flaw is impatience. I need to know and I need to know right now. I don’t want to be pressuring. I don’t want to be annoying. A moment of weakness, I guess. I guess, I have to wait. ‘I guess waiting is part of it.’ But what if he moves on by then? What? We are on lockdown. Maybe something happened. I doubt it. I was in denial. I lashed out. It was a moment of weakness. *** Maybe I should relax. For like a day, or a week. Forever? I don’t know. I ordered bath bombs from Amazon. Five bath bombs with a rose soap in the middle. I chose the one that was scented like rose petals. That was more relaxing than I ever thought it could be. I’m doing it again. (A moment). This time I am also drinking rum. Bacardi with pineapple juice. Old habits die hard. Or maybe they don’t die at all. I don’t mind that. My weakness. Actually, that is all I want to do, all day. Maybe for some weeks, or maybe a month? I don’t know. Forever. Or, maybe for a moment. It’s just a moment of weakness after all. *** I was doing well you know. Studying and stuff. Until this moment. The moment that I couldn't keep it up anymore. A few months, maybe a year. I don't know. “If you are unable to work, either decide to sit down and do it or, accept that you are not doing it. Everything else is insanity.” I dreamt about you. I dreamt that you were cutting my hair. [when you dream that someone is cutting your hair, it might mean that you are putting a lot of trust in that person to guide you.] ‘You dreamt that because I’ve been giving you advice.’ I should. Maybe not now but, I will. In the end. I know I will. I need a moment. My supervisor really believed in me and helped me out so, I will do it. A moment and I'll show my appreciation by submitting something decent. No, not decent. Something great. But just a moment. I will stay here all summer if I have to. I will do it and it will be great and I’ll say; ‘Hey, look. I did it anyway.’ And I will just say: ‘Hey look, it was just a moment of weakness.’ -p2 NormalityConfinement is now normality. The days are passing by effortlessly. Time keeps moving on; Unbothered by our earthly, mortal affairs.
Confinement is now normality. Less cruel normality; There are no homeless people in the streets. Apparently there had always been a bed for everyone. What do we want back? “freedom” Voices keep finding their way through the doors and screens and windows. Screaming louder than I can take “please!” Distorted voices, inhuman “please” An eerie, steady chant “We need to disregard the needs of others Please let us disregard the needs of others We need death, decay, waste Please let us out to destroy” -p1
I am not exactly sure as to how to use it yet, I can’t feel this word. I am not sure which emotions could bring one to faint. Is it strictly emotions? Or could it be feelings as well? The google definition wasn’t very clear on the details. Happiness? Surprise? Disgust? Could you imagine being so disgusted that you faint…? Funny. How about jealousy? Nostalgia? An episode of jealousy could have left me unconscious. I can imagine that unfortunately. How about longing? I’d separate longing into two categories. There’s the type of longing where there’s no memory of having acquired the objects of desire. For example ‘I long to be the richest person on earth’. Since I don’t have a memory of being the richest person on earth, I wouldn’t know how that feels like and therefore I would have to imagine the feeling which I am longing for. On the other hand, there’s the type of longing which flourishes in quarantine: of re-acquiring, re-attaining. This latter type is somewhat comparable to nostalgia (except if one can feel nostalgic for something they have never had). At least for me, longing is some kind of nostalgia plus motivation. A wild drive to act, to do something about it, to move the memory from the sphere of remembering; longing occurs when remembrance is not enough. It is just as bittersweet as nostalgia but every drop of sweetness transforms to anxiety and torture instead of melancholy. For example, I usually think of you all day and night long. When I talk I want you to hear, when I am being stupid I want you to laugh at me, when I am trying to sleep, I want you to hug me. It always starts off with what I brand as nostalgia. I start recollecting, remembering. This brings me to a state of tranquillity, but I am greedy. Remembering you and me together won’t be enough. I will go on and envision a plane landing right on the shore (that word always gets to me, I hear the splash of waves. Shhooooreeee). Not only will I envision it but I will sink in the daydream until I believe it; just for a bit I will let the warm breeze throw salty drops of water on my face and I will even hide into your arms to avoid them. At this point I'll feel the first tear on my cheek (which ironically, is a salty drop of water) and I will remember that not so long ago I could do something about it. I was planning to work all spring, then get a fucking ticket and spend the summer there. Sometimes I imagine seeing you at the airport; after a whole year. In this case I can easily imagine myself fainting. But could I become as emotionally overwhelmed as to faint by the mere imagining of these happenings? At which point? When I imagine the pleasant bits of it? as if swooning because of affection? or when I start feeling sad? Swooning as a result of grief? Or when I come back to reality; because of anger and helplessness and anxiety? See? I still don’t know how to use this word; I have no idea. I just wanted you to know that I liked a new word today. -p1. A Stroll.The other day we went to Coventry city centre for a walk. It was completely empty and everything was shut down (as expected). Coventry is a famously ugly English city but, this stroll reminded me of all the memories I made here in the past 4 years and how much I grew to love this place. These are some pictures of pre-quarantine Coventry I took as part of an exercise for one of my uni modules. -p2.
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AuthorsTwo lazy papayas who want to share their thoughts with the world from the comfort of their armchair. Archives |