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musings on a home in-between places, languages, ways of seeing
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Maria Clara Paulino
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Writing In The Margins

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http://clarapaulino.wordpress.com
Writing In The Margins · 9M ago

“Au revoir!”

I recently went back to the first post (well, almost the first) I wrote for this blog in April of last year. I was taken aback by the voice that comes through, so clearly mine, yet different, like that of a much younger me. I can hear the energy, curiosity, and eagerness that went along with [...]
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Writing In The Margins · 10M ago

A messenger

About a month ago (it feels like such a long time), when the sun reached high in the sky but did not yet warm the air, a sort of paralysis set into me. On the surface, nothing changed. I was there for my father and gave final grades; I continued the gargantuan tasks of indexing [...]
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Writing In The Margins · 11M ago

F. and C., finally … and the right box to tick

I have been thinking about a comment in reference to my mention of maids in Oh Mother. The comment struck a nerve, precisely because I have been tiptoeing around this subject. It is difficult to write about it without sounding over-righteous, snobbish, or something in-between. Yet I cannot change th
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Writing In The Margins · 11M ago

things happen. or not

While pondering what to do, what to say (Yes, No, Yes, No?) to The Professor (previous post), I came upon the first paragraph of  The Second Bakery Attack by Haruki Murakami: I’m still not sure I made the right choice when I told my wife about the bakery attack. But then, it might not have [...]
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Writing In The Margins · 11M ago

Oh, Mother

“Will you have a minute at the end?” whispered The Professor in my ear. He was sitting next to me in the auditorium where the third and final lecture in memory of my mother was about to start. The faces of her mentors and friends – Piaget, Inhelder, Klein, Trevarthan – were being projected on [...]
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Writing In The Margins · 12M ago

Blind space

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, soda?” he asked, getting up from the bench we’d been sharing in the hospital waiting room. He was there to see a friend, admitted the day before. I, as my readers will guess, was waiting for news of my father. “How about a cup of tea?” he [...]
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Writing In The Margins · 1Y ago

Now, the sea. Share this: Facebook

Now, the sea. Share this: Facebook Email Digg Reddit StumbleUpon Print
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Writing In The Margins · 1Y ago

Now, the sea

Now, the sea. Share this: Facebook Email Digg Reddit StumbleUpon Print
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Writing In The Margins · 1Y ago

Now, the sea

Waves bloom into white froth, then fall, thinning out onto the shore; they play hide and seek with the crabs, sprinkle salty droplets everywhere. I lean against the beige and blue cushions of a Modernist sofa; like many others, this one sits on a layered wooden platform on the sand. This is a Porto
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Writing In The Margins · 1Y ago

Oddest Words

When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it. When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no non-being can hold. The Three Oddest Words by Wislawa Szymborska Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh
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