http://slow.writerscafe.org/armana The original writings of author Armana D'Uscaret en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776033861 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 There’s only one park benchwhen you turn that corner from that train station, reading ROMA OSTIA LIDO,announcing  first where you are--                     .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/1339977/ Doli agreedwith me about the pleasure,though twisted, to be found in action-less love,through theact of loving, not taking measure,not caringwhy or how it came to be, of not knowingwhen or where it will go, lovingsimply becausethere is no other choice butto.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/1339220/ That beaten-down sound ofthat bird outside my window,that one just outside my door,that one that sounds half alive, but just barely, that I think of  that moment when I knewthat everything would change except that sound; that moment.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/1338906/ The girl withthe light eyes said,“I would neverhave the courage to marry anotherwoman.”She’s staring atme in awe,though I don’tknow why;her light eyeseven lighter after she speaksand then waits, enduring thespace of silence betw.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/1338790/ Ispend a lot of time walking.I’vegot no particular place to go,butstill I walk passthe people who looknothinglike me,passthe ones who speaklanguagesforeign to me,passthe crippled homeless man onthat bridge, Ponte Sisto; th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/1338786/ The hook, suspended from the ceilingjust behind the front door, was where they found-- http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/998047/ My pain sometimes scares meand then I am numb.My numbness sometimes scaresmeand then I feel pain. It is a cycle I wantdesperately to break http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/998042/ It's sunny again.The rain that had beenfalling for daysfinally gave up and left.It realized that it could notgo onkeeping the sky grey and theclouds darkened. It's sunny in such a way thatit conjures an image ofspringin the midst of the latterpart o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/998038/ Think no more of tomorrow,or of the day after it.The sun can only move asquickly as the moon will come. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/998036/ Do not make it worse,whatever the "it"is,whether situation or feeling.Simply stand still,say nothing,and breathe deeply. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/998033/ We sit.Empty coffee cup and magazinepages flip.I want to move beyond myself.The coffee house is like anyother,filled with bustle andurgency,filled with our silence, drawing pads on table, bookof poetry,and cd player to block outunwanted co.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997998/ By 6:59I reachthe subway,heart pounding,buy token,down escalator.7:04?  No, 7:05.And then it comes. Wisps whisperingsmoke ringsinto the airand I am feeling fine as raindrops fall on poorly sheltered head.Is this tranquility.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997989/ write because nothing elsesootheswrite because nothing elsemakes sensewhat is lacking in spokenwordswhat is lacking inexpressed emotions http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997983/ How is it that I can love youas much as I do?So much so that it breaks myheartwhen the sound of your voicedies away from my ear.So much so that I catch mybreathupon seeing a message fromyou. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997976/ Do not look for itin cobblestoned roads, nor in the beautyof the decay that even stonestructures must face, nor in the grandeurof palace gardens, nor in the coolof the ever-flowing water offountains, nor in the heatof pa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997975/ Lost--do not find me.I am searching already,enjoying myself. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997971/ Have you yet countedthe raindrops; numerous, wild;pushing forth new life? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997969/ Leaves must turn towardsthe colour of rust- Find joybeginning the end. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997965/ Lightning struck the tree!I stared at it- blackened withsoot. Fine summer storm. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997963/ Theconversation had started long before the solitary lamp-post began to cast thefamiliar amber light, prompting both shadows and people to emerge from darkerand less playful places. The appeal of tossing the cigarette on the ground hadbeen lost upon arrival at the bus stop, which seemed .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997924/ Rain falls unheard, caw of bird, cold, beyond window--Garbatellawakes Mussolini’s war,still echoing in winter’straffic, damaged walls. How different now,Rome, with the change of season,fallen leaves, people, Locked stor.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997923/ Midday, a short walk across the Ponte Sistoto the place known as Field ofFlowers. Couples mill about, point atthings, then purchasepseudo-happiness and I wonder howsoon they will breakand what will be said when theydo--Rome breeds new stories.  The flat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997922/ She tries not to wonderanymore whether or not the color of the water will ever change.  For today it is decidedly a murky green.  Murky, she thinks because it reminds her ofthat layer of fluid found on the top of yogurt left out for too long--anotherreason why she never eats or d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/armana/997921/ You, like falling leaves upon alotus pond.  I, a heart entombed in winter’s frost,fading circles of love circuitousas my fingertips create rippleslost.  Then crystal-iced, sunlit,dew-touched, loved. 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