Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
As promised, Bogdan opens fire with a short storie -j re crivello (Editor) Something wasn’t quite right in this small, barren room. The man sitting across the square table, dressed in a white coat, seemed a little to calm for someone in reaching distance. ‘I could just reach for that bald head and snap the […]
At 22:00 she would come out looking for him Would call out his name and eventually find him by the sandbox or the slide and would dust him off a bit and take him home and feed him As she’d put him to bed she’d kiss his face, sometimes his mouth and he’d ask, “Why did you do that?” and she’d reply, “I don’t know. But did you like it?” And he’d either nod or say yes, knowing that it’ll make her smile and then she’d cuddle with him until he’d fall asleep and whisper in his ear that she always wanted to have a little boy just like him and that he was making her unbelievably happy just by existing in the same room with her She was the best neighbor he could have dreamed of She gave him all the attention his mother gave to her bottles and her guy friends and everyone was very happy
When you see someone for long enough you get used to them and then you start noticing patterns in their behavior he was their teacher in creative writing weird guy in his late thirties going bald bespectacled pedo mustache scrawny body always wearing dark suits, a bit oversized He sat at his desk and watched the students and the students watched him Why does he always do that? they eventually asked. Why does he always tap his foot when talking to some girl but never when he talks to boys? He would appoint a female student to present her homework or some project or something and stand her up and while she spoke he would stare at her and tap his foot and the tapping would begin light and would grow in intensity strange guy tap-tap-tap ta-rap-tap-tap went his foot as the girls talked "I heard he's divorced," said one…
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the old lady didn’t mind being called crazy or being laughed at for spending her days alone in her small cottage facing the dark corner of the room and talking to her dead daughter encouraging her to eat up and grow up and complimenting her on the good looks she’d gained “Oh, I bet the boys are all dropping dead in your wake, hehe. Look at those legs. So slim and long and deadly. You’re a beauty among beauties, my dear. Here, have another one. Eat up to grow up. You’re gonna have hundreds of strong, beautiful children, hehe.” The neighbors and the world could keep calling her crazy, she knew she was just very happy She grabbed another grasshopper from a jar and ripped its hind legs and placed it on the spider’s web “Here’s another one, dear. Eat up and grow up, hehe.”
He had a big belly but he wasn’t a fat man he wished he was a fat man his daughter was four and she told him that he looked like a turtle born on the wrong side of its shell and mother laughed. He didn’t. Surely he would have if the swelling […]
a turtle born on the wrong side of its shell by Bogdan Dragos
Daydreaming as a profession 