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The story Amme Avar Nammude Akaasam Katteduthu is about women laborers, who over the past few decades were being phased out of work, mainly by automation, and then by influx of cheap labor from neighboring states. In this story the houses where women from the colony across the road works as household help, are being razed to the ground to give way to four colossal multistory buildings. The women lose their job and find life hard going, especially when their drunkard husbands do not help them, instead try to fleece them. They are pinned to the wall, and naturally finds way for a living, which is not very desirable, but unavoidable....

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Making sure that Arun doesn’t hear her, Jyothi asked Mathu. ‘Your husband does not come any more, eh?’ ‘No,....’ She said with visible comfort. ‘I wish he does not turn up any more. What about your husband?’ ‘He came last month, and then I said I am jobless and that I need money. He went back immediately and never again turned up. I never said I got a job in the building work.' (Amme, Avar Nammude Akasam Katteduthu)...

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Stories: Vellithirayilennapole Lavanya Kelan Oru Chocolate Viplavam Kalathinte Adayatha Vathilukal Stree, Avasanarangathil Mathram.... Oru Santhushta Kudumbam Sreeparvathi Iniyum Maduthittillatha Oru Samakalika Katha Daivathinte Swapnangal Amme Avar Nammude Akasam Katteduthu Kurey Chithrangalulla Oru Rathri, Athil Oru...... Ee Nirathil Thavalangalilla Oru Nalu Vayassukarante Prasnangal...

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This anthology of short stories won the Nalappadan Award (instituted after the famous poet Nalappat Narayana Menon) in 1998. The story Alakkuyanthram is about the plight of child labor in India. A ten year old girl is forced to do menial job in a wealthy house because her mother falls ill. It is about her interaction with the 4 year old daughter of her mistress. One day she takes the little girl to her shabby looking hut much to the chagrin of the little girl. She faces reality hereto unimaginable in her wealthy surroundings....

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‘How come you didn’t get even a single order?’ John Mathew could not get it. ‘You say you have visited 10 - 15 houses, and yet no order. You have gone to a wealthy area. Venu closed his eyes without having to utter a word. And slowly he drifted into a slumber. In sleep, he saw dark skinny children with small chests and big unhealthy belly. In front of them poverty was strewn around like dirt in carpet of affluence, and he with his machine with unlimited capabilities sweeps the poverty and the children become handsome and pretty. Watching the smile on his sleeping friend, John Mathew became thoughtful. (Aparasadhyathakalulla Oru Yanthram)...

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Stories: Pazhayoru Bheeshanikkari Sookshichuvacha Mayilpeeli Sultante Makal Aaro Oraal Pinnil Alakkuyanthram Oru Tapdancer Amma Valeduthavan Bhagyathinte Vazhikal Theeppettikkollithumbile Jeevitham Oditta Oru Cheriya Veedu Oru Urula choru Nair Magnanimity Aparasadhyathakalulla Oru Yanthram Kallichedi...

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Dr. Gourami’s Hospital is a delivery ward for fishes. The story deals with a motherless child of five and his sorrowing father, both of whom finds solace in the aquarium. The new born babies that swim in the tank give cue to Biju about his own mother who left him couple of years ago. The Sunflowers is the story of a boy who was destined to toil at the age of 17 in a far away city, i.e. Calcutta. He supports his mother as well as the family of her brother too. Though unwilling Dasan finally finds his sacrifice most rewarding, as he finds a garden of sunflowers in a mountain valley he saw on his way home....

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After taking bath he got dressed up fast. Renu announced breakfast. He went to call his son Viju. He was standing in front of the aquarium, the same way he left him when he went to the bathroom. ‘What happened Viju?’ He asked. He didn’t say anything. He was just watching the newborn fish babies. He was thoughtful. Finally he asked: ‘Dad do these fish babies really get the smell of their mother in the water?’ ‘Yes dear, all living beings are like that. Children can recognize the smell of their mother.’ Suddenly he stopped. He saw Viju’s face darkening and his eyes becoming watery. He was incapable of wiping those tears or soothing the boy with words of solace; he just hugged him. His eyes were also filling. Then in between sobs, Viju said. ‘Dad, let’s not change this house. We will continue here only.’ (Dr. Gouramiyude Asupathri)...

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Stories: Gouramiyude Asupathri Sooryakantipookkal Kattikombu Cheppadikkaranum Njanum Canadayilninnoru Rajakumari Oru Viswasi Puthiyoru Velipadinuvendi Muzhumikkatha Yathra Nagaram...

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This is the story of a true miracle. Read how Boris the cat got lost for over a year and how he was finally reunited with his family who were living 400 km away. Guaranteed to make you smile!...

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Preface Enter The Cat Burglar Target is Cat Corleone The Cat Who Came To Stay Amazing Reunion About The Author

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The stories portray human relations, especially between man and woman, children and their parents, the poor and the rich.

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Suchitra is writing a story. Sitting in her room with doors closed, creating a world of her own, she is getting ready to write a story. A sheet of paper that she pulled out in haste from her Social Science notebook lies in front of her with a sentence, “Mother is an evil character”. Writing the first sentence was easy for her. In fact all her stories begin by portraying somebody as an evil character. That first sentence, for her, flows out from the tip of her pencil to be imprinted between the blue lines of her notebook. It is done with the ease of a little bird landing on the window-sill, tucking its feathers closer to itself and turning its head to look straight at her. Now, what is the next sentence? It is here that Suchitra is in real trouble. It is easy to imagine somebody as an evil character, but it has to be authenticated with valid evidences. It should be given a halo of truth, capable of standing on its own legs. Not enough being just a sentence, it should stand tall in the arena of literature and above all, the story starting with that sentence should immortalize its creator....

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Stories: The Dinosaur’s Baby Anitha’s House The Net Of Darkness To Catch A Grasshopper The Cockroaches The Greatest Show Music Of The Mountains The Shroedinger’s Cat Stories With Evil Characters A KungFu Fighter...

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Have you ever been caught up in a warped space-time situation ? If you have, this will wake up forgotten memories. If you have not, you will be better armed to handle the experience. But if you try to deal with irrational situations using your rational thinking, you may go through a hard time....

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When he reached the building, there was no one yet waiting. The afternoon sun was blazing the street, but fortunately the entrance was on the shady side. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat on the cool stone steps. He knew he was meeting someone here but the heat and his walk through the busy dusty streets had muddled up his mind and memory. He hoped that some rest in the shade would bring him back to his full senses. He was still daydreaming about his condition when he heard her voice close to him. - Hi, my name is Deborah Highbridge, glad you could make it. - Hi, no problem. Pleased to meet you, Miss Highbridge. - You can call me Deborah. - OK, then you can call me Anthony. He got up to shake her hand. He was startled but pleased to see a young energetic woman, when he had expected to meet some typically dull fat elderly real estate dealer. Yet he disliked the touch of her hand on his. It was cold and rough, such a contrast with her appearance, as if it belonged to another person. Especially in the midst of summer. She was elegant but not flashy, with hazelnut eyes and auburn hair. A very m...

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**Contemporary Flash Fictions; not suitable for preteens & below.** A broken relationship; a hopeful lady; a full-of-rage heart of a man; a sound of a gun; a floor of blood and other scenarios. If your soul sides death; if your heart follows crumbling scenes; if your mind adores sorrow; if your eyes love blood, this anthology will fill your needs with different stories that end up tragically....

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Acknowledgement Author’s Note Let the Water Rise Like I Said He is the King Do You? Elites What You Once Gave Me Let Us Play Will Not Let It I Still Remember Underwater I Never Thought I Can Ever Have Perfect Ceremony Sister Aida Along with What We Found Mystery Purity Days Hope in Hell Wide, Blue Sea Ashes Knife and Hell Will You? Rivers Payback Owned Words Prayers Guitar Tunes Marathon Memories Saving Maeve The Way We Fall One Day Lies Gone Eternal Lives Goodbye I Love You Element Wooden Chair Dear Layla Blame Aviss Windowsill What We Are Two Hours Falling Thunders Burned Waiting Butterfly MaryAnne Under Finally The End About the Author...

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The "naive" chart below, executed in straight lines only, trying to make texts in space (space poems). It writing with images in a vision clean, architectural feelings. (It belongs to the author). La graphique "naive" qui suit, execéutée en lignes droites seulement, essaie de rendre les textes en espace(poèmes spatiaux).C'est une écriture avec des images dans une vision propre, de l'architecture des sentiments. (Elle appartient à l'auteur)....

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Nathalie demeure bouche bée quand on plombe sa molaire. Elle a une dent contre une autre dent cariée. Le médecin stérilise ses instruments qui deviennent la proie des flammes. La radiographie lui parle en termes voilés. Il fait bouillir le sang de la gencive souffrante dans l'éprouvette. Puis le toubib extrait de la gorge de sa patiente des gros mots. Nathalie remains speechless when on his leaden molar. She has a grudge against a another decayed tooth. The doctor sterilizes its instruments which become engulfed in flames. Radiography talks to him in veiled terms. It makes the blood boil the suffering gum in the specimen. Then the doctor extracts from his patient's throat bad words....

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The stories are presented in a novel way. They are rich with the original illustrations as appeared in the leading periodicals when publishing these stories. These sketches have been drawn by creative, talented artists, and this book is an attempt to preserve those rich sketches, which otherwise would be lost from readers’ memory in course of time....

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‘Where are my stories?’ Her mother asked ’Oh that?..... Are they stories?’ ‘Yes, where are they?’ ‘What type of stories are they?’ Mother asked with a smile on her face. That question sounded silly like asking what kids are they to a mother. ‘What all have you written. I tore them off.’ ‘Tore them?...... My stories?’ Suchitra could not control her agony. The estrangement and insensitivity of the postmodern writers are confined to their stories alone. In personal life, they are full of emotions and senses like any other human being made of flesh and blood. Or else why mix up the creations and the personal life of the creator. Crying aloud she ran to her room bolted the door and lay down crying. She did not open the door even though her mother kept knocking at it repeatedly. After a while she got up, pulled a sheet of paper from her Social Science notebook and started writing under the banner ‘Female butcher’ and her very first sentence was naturally ‘Mother is an evil character’. (Stories with Evil Characters) ...

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Dinosarinte Kutti (The Dinosaur’s Baby) Vishu (The Malayalam New Year) Oru Kung Fu Fighter (A Kung Fu Fighter) Canadayilninnoru Rajakumari (A Princess from Canada) Doctor Gouramiyude Asupathri (Dr. Gourami’s Hospital) Pazhayoru Bheeshanikkari (An Old Female Blackmailer) Alakkuyanthram (Washing Machine) Ammu Paranja Katha (The Story Told by Ammu) Puzhakkakkare Kochuswapnangal (Teeny Weeny Dreams Across The River) Dushtakathapathrangalulla Kathakal (Stories with Evil Characters) Kalikkalam (The Play Season) Oru Onathinte Katha (An Onam Story) Chuchiyum Inampichiyum (Chuchi and Inampichi) Aa Paattu Nirthu (Stop That Song) Roopam Nashtappetta Mrigangal (The Animals that Lost Contour) Oru Nalu Vayassukarante Prasnangal (Problems of a 4 Year Old Boy) Arunthathiyude Paikkilikavithakal (The Silly Poems of Arunthathi) Nagaravasiyaya Oru Kutti (A City Dwelling Boy) Daivathinte Swapnangal (Dreams of God) Enthokkeyo Nashtappetta Oral (A Man Who Lost A Lot) Thullikkoru Kudam (Raining Cats and Dogs) Odikkappedunna Balyam (The Childhood On The Run) Pachhappayyine Pidikkan (To Catch a Grasshopper) Ettavum Mahathaya Kazhcha (T...

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The story Pachhappayyine Pidikkan (To Catch a Grasshopper) won the Padmarajan Award in 1997. Padmarajan was a well-known film director and film maker. The story is about a five year old girl who goes out to catch a grasshopper on her elder sister’s wedding day. The situation in the family is so desperate that the girl thinks she should do something to have more money. There is a belief that if a grasshopper enters your house, it brings wealth also....

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The impatient horn of the car was heard outside. She said, ‘Raju I never expected all these.’ She took her suitcase and walked to the door. She kept the suitcase on the floor and turned to Rajasekharan. He was standing motionless. She went to him. ‘Are you sad ?’ Again the car horn was heard and he did not say anything. ‘They’re calling, shall I go?’ She went through the door, and stood for a moment holding the door; then taking out a key from her hand bag said. ‘This key........’ She stopped abruptly. That key for her was a private property. She has never felt it that way before. The quarters allotted to her in the hotels never gave her this intimate feeling. There is intimacy, privacy and solace in this key. ‘This key.......’ she asked, ‘shall I keep this with me? Whenever I feel extremely unhappy and sad I might need this.’ (Santhwanathinte Thakkol)...

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Stories: Nishaadam Ammu Paranja Katha Ettavum Mahathaya Kazhcha Asramam Urangukayanu Moolode Urappikkunnathile Vishamangal Desatanakkilipole Aval Oru Thanutha Kattayi Avan Pachhappayyine Pidikkan Veruthe Vanna Oral Santhwanathinte Thakkol Arunthathiyude Painikili Kavithakal...

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The story Koorakal is about a middle class family. A wife, husband and two children. The unwilling wife is forced to terminate her third pregnancy much to her wishes, since their financial background does not allow them to have one more child. She is in a dilemma, and finally had to give in....

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It’s the conscience that troubles me, she thought. I now have a guilty conscience. But it has got to be done. There is no other go. These days you have to live, and live happily too, for which, at least, you have to pay a deaf ear to this beat of the wings. You will be happy tomorrow when memory of this nightmare ceases to haunt you. We should bring our children back, she thought. I am missing them very much. Fifteen days seemed longer, and I can’t stand this solitude any more. I should have them around me. .........She overslept, and when woke up sunray crept into the room. On the floor she saw the dead cockroaches, hundreds of them lying on their back. She thought of the crumbled leaves which fall dry in the cold winter mornings from trees in her native home, and of her mother who passed away years back, and of her children, and of the tiny particle of life brewing in her womb, which was deprived of its right to exist, and she was sad. (Koorakal)...

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Stories: Koorakal Unakkamarangal Parunthukal Vattomchuttumbol Sisiram Iruttilude Mazhayulla Oru Rathriyil Kariyaduppu Iruttinte Makal Madhuvidhu Njan Ninnil Ninakkuvendi Vellakkuthirayude Rajakumaran Daivam Jnjaniyavunnu...

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Story of an orphanage for girls, their miserable life under a warden. Finally the Church realize their folly and appoints a new warden, who is young and energetic. The reforms he made changed the atmosphere so drastically that the countenance of the inmates changes. The Church is happy with him, but then the new warden has his share of problems and the priest helps him solve it....

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Sir, it is Jisy’s turn tonight. I came because she’s not well.’ ‘Turn?’ She nodded. ‘Turn for what?’ ‘Today is Tuesday, and it is her turn to come to you, Sir. The old Warden Sir had made it like that. Tuesday it is Jisy, Thursday me, Saturday Deepa and if in between he wants somebody he will tell it. ‘What for?’ The moment it was blurted out he understood the absurdity of his question. In a moment a lot of things rushed into his mind, like standing in front of a bursting dam and being swept away with the torrent. He was tired. He was thinking of the hapless animals that are forced to go to the animal king one a day as his prey. Today is the turn of this fawn, or she is substituting for a fellow being....

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Nepal has been blessed with heavenly natural beauty. However, the plate tectonics that gave birth to this natural beauty will one day cause massive loss of life and property. A majority of people living in Nepal are largely unaware of their vulnerability to a massive earthquake. Ironically, foreign diplomats seem to be more active in preparing Nepal for this imminent and unpredictable natural disaster: recently the US embassy funded the construction of a blood bank that can survive the impact of an earthquake, Nepal government and some UN agencies are collaborating to prepare critical infrastructures (like airport, emergency shelter, etc.) for a massive earthquake that is bound to hit this beautiful Himalayan kingdom that has already been cursed with a bloody past and a youth-less present. This short story (fiction, 2200 words) describes the home coming of a youth after a massive earthquake in Nepal. It also tries to emphasize the importance of letter writing in current age of instant communication (email, telephone, etc)....

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The dead bodies recovered from the rubble lay all along the road side like a victory medal of the God. Pulverised concrete had turned the whole city into a dark and grey place. As Alok entered inner parts of the city, roads turned into small mountain of rubble; motionless hands, legs and expressionless faces peeked from these rubble. All the human remains were completely washed with powdered concrete dust and they silently recited the violent tale of furious Mother nature. Bricks had broken free from the tyranny of cement and lay scattered everywhere while naked concrete pillars shamelessly displayed their steel skeletons. A mist created by pulverised concrete floated everywhere like a recently freed spirit and, without any remorse, it flirted with strong smell of decaying human flesh. Stains of dried blood splatted over broken concrete spoke of the bloody feast organised by the Gods. Amid this aftermath of the festival of death, some hope emanated from the light of the pyre of some fortunate dead bodies whose relatives had survived to offer them the last Hindu rites....

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Who you believe in and what you believe is the most important matter in life. In a morally troubled world, how powerful a hold does religion have? Are you confused about religious ambiguity, love of money, love of power, sexual immorality, art? Reading The Brass Bed and other Stories may help, then again it may just raise more questions....

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The Salesman Alabaster Easter The Albatross Cafe She wore clover . . . Tabula Rasa The Two Men The Dancer

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This book contains a collection of short stories about "Lazar" and different aspects of his life which includes a certain morning, a day on the beach, morning french toast, etc. Dusan Gojkov is a known Serbian poet/writer who has published several pieces of his work....

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--Afternoon Talks-- A year already, maybe even two, Lazar is sleeping only with other men's women. Not all of them are married but they are always tied to other men. Very quickly, they meet their boyfriends, fiances or husbands with Lazar. They approve of him and characterize him as harmless. "With Lazar, nothing could happen to a woman". Not a ray of jealousy. One girl who was very attached to her fiance, told him once: "When I sleep with you, I don't cheat on him. With somebody else, I would be cheating on him, but with you-no." Her fiance like to come over to Lazar for a glass of vine. Then they talk about politics, literature, music. There's some perverse pleasure in it, sometimes. ...

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In the post-Civil War period, our hero Matthew Wilson, during a trip to see his partner in New Orleans, finds himself stranded in the deadly uncharted swamp with no tools or help. On his journey back to civilization, he encounters a deranged domestic prisoner and his wife, deadly wildlife, and many other threats....

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The driver cleared his throat. “They take fifteen minutes to get there us half the time. J.S Peterson Carriage has a commitment to quality that never ends.” Although he had just commenced his job, he already had the tired, repetitive tone of someone who had repeated that phrase innumerable times. To the couple's surprise, the horses quickly lurched into a dark underworld of a street. Untamed mosses and vines swallowed up the dilapidated, vacant houses, which bore signs of antiquated engineering and design. They were slowly sinking into the soft ground, as Nature took them back from Man....

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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Vă mulţumesc că m-aţi dispreţuit, umilit, că m-aţi împins spre emigrare unde nu mai sunt dispreţuit, nu mai sunt umilit, mi se respectă creaţiile şi persoana. Şi pentru toate acestea, mă simt mai patriot ca niciodată....

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Bere cu cântec În restaurant, bând bere cu prietenii de clasă, și fredonând toți cântece pentru… copii de grădiniță: Înfloresc grădinile, Ceru-i ca oglinda, Fluturii cu miile Au pornit colinda!... Și consumatorii de la mesele din jur — uitându-se surprinși la noi, neștiind ce să creadă! Beer song The restaurant, drinking beer with friends and class humming all songs ... kindergarten children: Blooming gardens, He asked her the mirror, Butterflies by the thousands They started wandering! ... And consumers from surrounding tables - looking surprised us, not knowing what to believe!...

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Cioburi de oglindă ........................................................ 9 Amintiri răzleţe ........................................................... 15 Melancolii ............................................................... 16 Îmi strălucea scăfârlia ............................................. 16 Smarandache, Smărăndoiu .................................... 16 Şah pe ascunselea .................................................. 17 Fireştenia matematicii ............................................ 17 Se închide cantina! ................................................. 17 Bere cu cântec ........................................................ 18 Croitorul nostru ...................................................... 18 Ceauşescu — P.C.R. ................................................ 19 Clasa a treisprezecea .............................................. 19 Ghiduşii ................................................................... 19 Maimuţoii ............................................................... 20 Cu Naşu’ .................................................................. 20 Probleme cu Obect...

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Martin is a 50-something Yorkshireman with a penchant for swearing and making model aircraft in his shed. He also likes football and many years ago when a small, longhaired Argentinian started to play for Napoli FC, Martin became aware of this corner of Italy famous for Pompeii, pizza and the mafia. While a later incident meant that Maradona fell seriously out of Martin's favour, his love for Naples and the Amalfi Coast grew and grew. But with a family to provide for and his redundancy to deal with, Martin never made the journey to this part of the world he loves so much. Until now… Readers have described See the Amalfi Coast as "funny, evocative and moving", "witty, clever and so honest" and "a wonderful read". Enjoy finding out why Martin and his loyal, loving wife have finally made the journey to see the Amalfi Coast and how a number of twists and turns give new meaning to their "holiday of a lifetime"....

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Our plane leaves in five hours and he hasn’t packed yet. Instead, he sits in his shed and tinkers with his toys. “They’re not toys. They’re models. Works of bloody art,” We booked the tickets a few months ago. Cheap flights from one website, a last minute hotel from another. Martin clicked the mouse, taking us from one page to the next. I read out our credit card details. It all happened so quickly. “It’s only bloody money. You can’t spend money when you’re dead,” The last time we went abroad was fifteen years ago. Ten days in Disney World, one final family holiday. Steven was spotty and grumpy, bored by us all. Stacie was the opposite, hyperactive and clingy. Martin was relentless, reminding me that this was his “very idea of hell” each time we joined a queue. And yet there was a moment of magic. On our last hot evening in Florida as the four of us hugged Mickey Mouse, a photographer captured a happy moment that didn’t exist. I always smile to myself when I move that photo frame to dust the mantlepiece. This time it will be just the two of us; the children don’t even know. “You mustn’t tell them. It’s o...

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"This collection of stories is like a blanket woven from 100% wanderlust under which you can hide as Frances M. Thompson tucks you in with her words and keeps you warm with her descriptions of characters you'll love and places you can tell she knows by heart." Gesa Neitzel, www.bedouinwriter.com Shy Feet: Short Stories Inspired by Travel is a collection of twelve quirky, charismatic and touching tales of travel. The inquisitive Ruth tells the story of The Lost Children of Gatwick Airport and in Max's Holiday we learn what a seven-year-old boy considers a "proper holiday" to be. In The Flowers Sleep Tonight, we meet Thomas and Carly, two solo travellers whose paths keep crossing... because that's exactly what Thomas wants. A spontaneous plan to elope is revealed in The Runaways and Homes from Homes is about the lessons Patricia learns from the hotel bellboy she has a fling with. Oh, Henry is the story of how a dream holiday can mean two different things to two lovers and Katie's Maps is an offbeat love letter to a vast collection of maps. Extracts from a travel journal tell one woman's life story in All the Beaches are Made of ...

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SHY FEET Part One Thirty-seven years ago, I was born into debt. I arrived two weeks early, surprising both my mother and the woman whose hair she was cutting. Before I’d even entered the world, I owed my mother the price of her customer’s leather loafers. Thirty years ago, a teacher told my mother to keep an eye on me. I was “frighteningly astute" and “abnormally self-aware” for my age. In other words, I was going places. Twenty-eight years ago, I paid my mother back for those leather loafers with money I made from selling jars of jam to our neighbours. Every Sunday evening I would stand on a stool in front of our gas stove and stir a viscose pink liquid around a giant saucepan. Behind me, my mother would hold her breath as I poured the hot mixture into jars, never spilling a drop. Twenty-six years ago, I began secondary school. Within weeks I learnt that with very little effort I could get top marks in most subjects. I rarely studied more than I had to and I blitzed through my homework on the school bus home. While Mum finished work in the front room, I cooked dinner for us both, listening to her scissors snip through ...

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Shy Feet - Part One The Flowers Sleep Tonight The Lost Children Homes from Homes The Runaways Oh, Henry Katie's Maps Scorpion The Road is Long Max's Holiday See the Amalfi Coast All the Beaches are made of Pebbles Shy Feet - Part Two...

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Creaţia este un risc Prefaţă Cei care construiesc şi cei care se căsătoresc nu sunt niciodată în siguranţă, sună un proverb suedez. Deci creaţia, care este o c-o-n-s-t-r-u-c-ţ-i-e, presupune un risc, atrăgând prieteni dar şi duşmani, şi lăsând o a treia categorie de oameni indiferenţi (ca-n logica neutrosofică). În a doua jumătate a vieţii producţia-mi literară s-a redus în cantitate, eu fiind absorbit în (şi sponsorizat pentru) creaţia ştiinţifică aplicată (matematică folosită în inginerie, robotică, medicină, aeronautică, sau încercări sporadice de fizică teoretică). În afara unor autotraduceri, şi-acelea înaintând greu din lipsă de timp, iar în domeniul plastic al ‘artei electronice’ (pe computer), mai scriu ca “literatură” doar memoriile despre diversele conferinţe ştiinţifice internaţionale la care sunt invitat să prezint lucrări de cercetare ori seminarii. Memorii care, de fapt, sunt nişte reportaje, îmbinate cu expunerea de idei şi teorii ştiinţifice, documentarii istorice, geografice, filozofice, antropologice, religioase, artistice, etc. de la diversele muzee, galerii de artă, monumente şi locuri culturale ...

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Cifrele au început să vibreze mi-am încărcat buzunarele cu cifre şi pătrate şi am vâslit hoinar pe drumuri la fiecare colţ al liniei curbe a vieţii aruncam cu cercuri şi triunghiuri în mulţime şi ele rezonau cu cifre am pavat şoseaua iar sub paşii mei au început să vibreze când mi-am umplut plămânii de ele s-au convertit în litere şi am descins pe drumul poeziei...

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Prefaţă: Creaţia este un risc: 5 INTERVIURI: 6 Legătura dintre paradoxism şi Teoria Dezert-Smarandache (Interviu cu Flavia Teoc): 7 Exil sau diasporă? (Interviu cu Silvia Constantinescu): 11 God does play dice! (Interview with Ovidiu Bufnilă): 21 “Totul este posibil, chiar şi imposibilul!” (Interviu cu Tudor Negoescu): 22 Literatura şi ştiinţa experimentală (Interviu cu Adrian Lesenciuc): 28 Gândirea pozitivistă (Interviu cu Gabriel Stănescu): 33 "Rămân emigranţii fideli valorilor culturii de origine?” (Chestionar de Gabriel Stănescu): 36 O luptă permanentă cu viaţa (Interviu cu Crenguţa Ţolea): 38 A fi sau a nu fi paradoxist (Taifas electronic cu Mircea Monu): 47 Nichita versus Florentin (Dialog cu M. N. Rusu): 55 Paradoxism şi (Aut-)Artă: o nouă (dez)ordine culturală? (Interviu cu Mugur Grosu şi Mircea Ţuglea): 56 SCURTE ESEURI: 86 Aut-Artă: 87 Ab ovo: 89 Un Om şi-o Operă (Aurel M. Buricea la 65 de ani): 91 Pasiunea de Dascăl şi Creator: 92 Prolificitatea Profesorului Bencze: 94 Aniversare Alpha: 95 Nuvele serioase în neseriozitatea lor: 96 La frontiera onirismului: 99 Un nou gen literar: 100 Vorbe de duh: 1...