On the Art of Life
When in Budapest I walk around the city with confidence, like someone who knows the streets intimately. I order food and drinks in Hungarian, and I am no longer asked where I’m from.
Last January I was excited to launch a course that would combine two of my great passions: writing and yoga. “The Yoga of Creative Writing”
Ora che sei partito (forse già in Germania) sono rimasta qui a guardare i fuochi d’artificio in silenzio.
To educate, or to nurture? That is the (impossible) question.
The blow of her words felt like the greatest slap in the face. But boy, did I ever need that slap? Time stood still for a moment, before I turned to face her. “You are so right. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
The tightness in my chest was the pang of loneliness, not anxiety. It called my attention to something important I had been neglecting, not out of busyness, but out of fear.