Warfare

It still lingers around Sipping through my veins The revenge The retaliation The fury That comes with disrespect

When the body has spoken

There are certain planes you don’t board I don’t go back to Buenos Aires I don’t fly onwards to Mato … More

It grips my hips Captures my thoughts And holds my heart hostage

After all of the drama The leaving The anger The complete sense of helplessness After the escape routes The bags … More

“She’s a nomad, just like you and me Kris.” Summer. Autumn. The only two seasons I have known for the … More

How different, yet exactly the same life can be in Buenos Aires and Patagonia.

I turned to the words. It was a better way to cure it.

Sunny days. Grey days. Rainy days. Any days by the river are good. Sprite – the dog – who steels … More

Yesterday there was a power cut for a few hours, so I went outside and stood by the river. I … More

I adore words. Yet I have months where I avoid them for days.