Chimera #Glass Lovers

At that time, I began to understand how much Miriam suffered. I thought that the only thing I could do was to take myself out of any encounter with Jacques. And so, I did.


Looking back, that was the first mistake I made. I forced Jacques to transport me from the realm of the real into the realm of his imagination.

With my whole being out of his sight, I freed him to fall in love with me. More precisely to fall in love with a chimera resembling me; a chimera born from the richness and depths of his soul. I became his dream woman, precisely because I was not his woman.


I remember Angelo’s words, one warm autumn evening while we were walking through Place du Tertre watching the work of amateurish artists:

“My dear Clara, your cloistered behavior is ridiculous. It’s not helping at all.”


I retrospect I wish I would have listened to him.


Well, but later Miguel would say:

“Jacques fell in love with you the moment he saw you, Clara. Remember his words that winter evening…”


I remember the words that Jacques uttered that winter evening when we first met him. I always will.

I had a premonition


excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers 


Fires of the Mind #Flash Fiction

First, one’s mind catered to the other.


Then they started praying upon each other’s art: one’s imagination crawling on and playing with the other’s like two lion cubs frolicking on Africa’s grasslands.


By the time physical love came into play they were already burning like two pieces of glass in a Murano furnace.

It would have been much easier if they would have kept their art separate. Yet they did not.


Destinies # Glass Lovers

Our destinies caught into the deep lines of my left palm.


With my right index finger, I trace those lines again and again, until I cannot breathe anymore, until my left palm bleeds.


None of us can be judged outside endless flights between continents, outside of our profuse tears and of our love for art, outside of the slippery slope that runs from amitié amoureuse to deep impassioned love.


One day all of us will have to understand that the past should stay in the past. That day is inscribed in my left palm together with our pain, and our tendencies toward the kind of love that transcends any earthly boundaries.


Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers