HelluvaGirl

Photo: Vilma Bareikaite, post: mine

Photo: Vilma Bareikaite, post: mine

Photo: Vilma Bareikaite, post: mine

Would you like me to dominate you?

The question sunk into me lying face down on messy sheets, both as a threat and a promise. I had no idea what time of day it was by then. Read the rest of this entry »

I am discovering Iyeoka.

For as long as I remember myself, Mother Grandmother would pray for me: when I had an exam, went on a trip, got sick or gave birth. She did it the old-school way, with all the huge Christian prayer books and rosaries at hand. I’d turn in my bed in small hours and I’d hear her humming the repeated, unending, half-voiced mantras, filled up with faith and perseverance. Now they make the memory tissue my childhood is swaddled in. Read the rest of this entry »

Just took a peak at my old photos. Some of the memories are striking.

If I could choose one picture and call it Divorce, it would be this one.  Read the rest of this entry »

You fight your war passionately, as if your life depended on it – doesn’t it always?

You suffer casualties and carry on.

You methodically pursue your  aim, thinking up new strategies and acting undercover.

After years you realise there was never an enemy there, and no actual war per se, just you and your ever-intimate relationship with the Demon.

And as you embrace Him, and smile openly looking straight into His eyes, and put your hand on His, and you walk together for a while as one, your gut tells you that being a survivor is forever travelling the geography of your wounds.

I can’t say I have ever been teased this outrageously.