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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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Poursuivant son obsession dans de superbes coins de nature, de la très chic Irlande jusqu'au plus lointain marigot africain, des Bahamas ensoleillés jusqu'au Grand Nord canadien, l'auteur relate avec verve l'exaltation, le découragement ou l'entêtement qui animent les parties de pêche. Ces vingt-trois récits, aventureux, pleins d'humour, raviront les initiés. Et aussi les malheureux non-pêcheurs, plongés pour un instant dans la folie douce....

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Vous connaissez vos classiques ? Pêcheur Jekyll et Mister Hyde ? Là, en pêcheur Jekyll, je suis parfaitement normal, loue une pêche dans les règles de l'art, acquitte le montant de mon permis, utilise un matériel éthique respectueux des usages locaux. Je socialise avec le garde, discute gestion du fonds piscicole, respecte les limites horaires, territoriales et matérielles. Mais que surviennent trois bredouilles, deux déconvenues ou une grosse tentation, et mes démons réapparaissent. Je subis alors d'étranges transformations. C'est horrible. Mes fils grossissent, mes cannes raccourcissent. Pire, mes hameçons s'allongent et se couvrent d'ardillons. Dans mes poches, les mouches se transforment en asticots. L'antimatière s'empare de mes permis, qui disparaissent. Comme la langue de l'endroit, dont je perds alors l'usage. Au plus fort de la crise ma peau devient terreuse et exhale une forte odeur de poisson. Je suis devenu Hyde !...

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Peau de pêche Jekyll Spectacles en solo Un Ballantyne's pur malt, 12 ans d'âge Un chat laid en Autriche L'appeau de l'ours Le mercredi des cendres Retour vers le futur Fantômes et fantasmes Il y a des tigres en Afrique Esprit d'équipe Pêche en eaux troubles Belize en mer Doubles tractions Complet moules et frites La bataille de Verdun La guerre de l'étoile Rognons à Madère Samba à Dakar Rififi à Bimini Steak pomfret Accidents bénins A marlin, marlin et demi ...

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10 récits ethnologiques à connotation sexuelle.

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La eunuque Ce soir j’avais rendez-vous avec une femme un peu spéciale, une femme d’un autre monde, une femme d’un autre temps… Accompagnée par celle qui m’avait contacté, elle avait l’air d’une femme dépouillée de tout, vidée de sa substance féminine, une femme totalement nue, en l’occurrence simplement couverte d’une sorte de linceul ; son guide ayant tout bonnement l’air d’une ethnologue. J’avais ouvert la porte de mon appartement et j’avais dirigé les visiteuses vers le salon. Après les avoir accueillies avec quelques civilités, mon contact lança la discussion : — Je vous présente Kéra. C’est le nom qu’elle m’a indiqué. Elle dit avoir oublié son prénom d’origine, mais elle reconnaît être originaire du pays décrit comme étant l’Australie. — Enchanté… Elle parle quelle langue ? — Le Langala ; c’est la langue de là-bas. C’est où, là-bas ? je ne le savais pas et il allait de soi que je n’étais pas censé le savoir ; j’étais même censé le découvrir. C’est quoi cette langue ? une des 3700 parlées sur terre, ou la 3701ème ? La femme mystère ne parlait pas. Elle évitait mon regard ; son regard m’évitait purement et simplement. To...

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Table des nouvelles L’origine (de l’espèce humaine) 1 La eunuque 16 Les codes de bonne conduite 43 L’Olympe du sexe 79 Le 8ème péché capital 99 Péripatéticiens 133 Terra Nebula, l’île du baiser phallique 178 Au nom des enfants 215 Un monde merveilleux 225 L’origine de la fin du monde 232...

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14 nouvelles courtes (7 à 18 pages), des nouvelles loufoques qui jouent de l'ironie et de la dérision. Thèmes: les espèces, la condition humaine...

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La condition humaine La dernière fois que je suis né, c'était dans une fort ingrate condition ; j'avais deux bras et deux jambes reliés entre eux par un buste surmonté d'une tête et doté dans sa partie inférieure d'un appareillage excréteur correspondant à la tête. Après ma naissance, de longs mois durant je suis resté couché sur le dos, totalement impuissant, entièrement livré à ceux qui s'affairaient autour de moi pour me maintenir en vie. Le plus effrayant, c’est qu'ils n'avaient pas l'air de savoir comment faire ! ils avaient l'air aussi désemparés que moi. En ce temps-là, je ne sais pas pourquoi, mon corps portait tout à sa bouche : ses mains, ses pieds, et puis surtout cet espèce de renflement brunâtre qui pointait fermement et tendrement au bout d'une baudruche blanchâtre de laquelle sourdait un jus animal sous le regard — complice ou détaché — et le sourire — enjoué ou fatigué — de la tête perchée au-dessus. Plusieurs fois par jour, je m'entendais crier de peur, de faim, de frustration, comme de joie, de douleur, de chagrin. Cela pouvait durer longtemps : ceux qui s'occupaient de moi ne s'occupaient pas toujours de moi...

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Genèse 2 La condition humaine 10 La révélation 26 Le monde d'aujourd'hui demain 34 Homo erectus 73 Le plus grand cinéma du monde 89 Virus ethnique 102 L'espèce supérieure 117 Un amour d’humanité 136 Les cadeaux maudits 154 Le genre humain : type 2 167 Confection 180 A.O.C. 192 Ultimatum 199...

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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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We are living in exciting times: Hawaiian- language immersion schools from pre-school through high school have been established on all the main islands of Hawaii; more and more high schools—both public and private—are adding Hawaiian-language classes to their curriculum; enrollment is up in Hawaiian-language classes at the college and university level across the state. Despite the increased interest in and aware- ness of matter of mere whim, but are seriously considered choices arising from different philosophies regarding language—its place in our lives; its power and its inadequacies in representing the oral; its ability and its limitations in capturing thought and feeling and in translating that thought and feeling into another, sometimes very foreign language....

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Short fiction about bizarre mental health disorders.

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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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LiveCareer wants to help make this the year you land the job you want. Our eBook is packed with helpful hints and expert tips that can give you the edge you need to succeed in 2015!...

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How to impress employers, get hired faster and make more money

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How to Win the Job in 2015 3 The Worst Jobs of 2014, The Best Jobs of ‘15 & Cities that Are Ready to Take Off 4 Clean Up Your Act! Social Networks & Your Personal Brand 7 Get Hired Faster! Tap Into Your Network 9 Stand Out from the Crowd: How to Optimize Your Resume for Search Engines 11 Are You Qualified? The Skills You MUST Include in Your Resume 13 Volunteer Work Is More Important than Ever 15 Your Resume is #1 in 2015: How to Make It Great 17 The New Rules: Writing Your Cover Letter 19 Five Interview Tips You've Never Heard Before 21 Your Job Apps Are Done! What’s Next? 23...

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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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No ka hoike ana i ko kakou manao ma o ka palapala, aole ana paha e nele ke kE mai o kekahi kanaka me ke koikoi ana mai e malama ia kekahi kulekele kEmau ma ka pela ana i na huaolelo Hawaii me ka okina a me ke kahako. E olelo mai paha kela e o ia ka mea e akaka ai ka manao o ia mau huaolelo ke heluhelu aku. A he manao maikai no paha kela. Eia nae, e kEe mai paha auanei ka manao o kekahi kanaka e he mea kela e paa ai kela manao a ike ole ia ai hoi kona naauao ma ke ano laula a hohonu paha. A no laila, ma kahi o ka hookaawale ana i keia mau manao e like me ko kakou manao he pololei a he hewa, e huli hou aku kakou i ka olelo a ko kakou poe kEpuna i hooili maila ma luna o kakou, a no ka mea, o ia ana ko kakou ike a mahalo hoi i ka naauao o ua mau halau la a elua....

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From the moment I was born. kuualoha: Genealogically, we're all at least 2,000 years old. Kaimipono: How many ancestors does it take to make you Hawaiian One. But we forget. We think, You're Hawaiian because you do this and this. kuualoha: Or because you look a certain way. Kaimipono: What do we do to our people when we make those kinds of judgments We disin- herit them. And then we give it to people who don't have the blood at all....

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In over 30 short stories, Jim Bowers explores with courage and honesty the nature of the human heart. He plunges deep into the psyche, confronts the beast within, and emerges with redemption, hope, and a bittersweet understanding of the meaning of life. His stories touch on human frailties and anguish, the complexities of relationships, the power of faith and the spirit, on good and evil itself. They are disturbing or uplifting--sometimes together--and they challenge us to be as daring in subjecting our own innermost thoughts and fears to the crucible of honest attention. Expressing a profound mastery of language, Jim writes with beauty and elegance, sincerity and passion. These stories "speak to the soul." Gaydell Collier, author and editor...

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Prologue I am sitting in my chair in the cabin built by my own hands, looking at the stream flowing through my property, with my feet elevated, piles of newspapers and my dog at my side. It is not that I am lazy. I'm retired, and retirement means not doing whatever I do not care to do, not talking with people I do not find interesting, not being anything other than what I want to be. It is the ultimate in freedom, just to be myself: no more games to play, no role to tell me how I ought to act, only silence and intuition. But that also involves getting to know who I really am. Memories from the past float to the surface, long-forgotten, painful, surprising. I am changing in unexpected ways: death and rebirth in my late sixties, as if one can start over again at that age. I am becoming more reclusive, more observant, delighted by the vast panorama of inward experience. Room after room I wander through the mansion of my soul, ascending stairs toward ecstasy, descending into a murky cellar of horror and evil, desperately trying to find some stability within the synergy between polar opposites. There are many faces populating m...

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Prologue The Loner Becoming Civilized The Springtime of Love Nightfall Insensitive Snow The Power and the Blood Friendship The Funeral Bad Boy Flesh Made Word A Failure of Heart A Beautiful Woman A Chalice of Daffodils An Honest Neighbor Fear Alone in the Woods The Jogger Embracing the Unacceptable The True Believer A Difficult Friend The Eternal Moment The Storm The Christ Child The Child Molester The Rapist Heart Attack Free at Last Love in Christ Betrayal Why Go to College? The Commencement Speech Poverty Wealth Vision Quest Arachnephilia: The Love of Spiders The Pianist Epilogue ...

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In January of 1895, a nationalist rebellion broke out against the Republic of Hawaii. The rebellion was crushed in two days by Republican forces who outgunned the nationalist forces. The Queen was arrested and brought before a military tribunal. The Republic found her guilty of “misprision of treason” (branding her a traitor) and fined her $5,000 and five years of hard labor (Liliuokalani 1990 [1898]:289). Instead of hard labor though, they decided to imprison her in a corner room of Iolani Palace for eight months. The Queen later said, “My crime was that I knew my people were conspiring...to throw off the yoke of the stranger and oppressor” (278). Not being able to correspond with the outside world, the musically gifted Queen Liliuokalani sought solace during her imprisonment through music. She composed “The Queen's Prayer,” one of her most famous hymns, and dedicated it to her niece, Princess Kaiulani. In it, she asked God to forgive those who imprisoned her and let her nation be pure. But Princess Kaiulani would not get to see this hymn until after Liliu was released....

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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...

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'The Virgin Mary had more lines but I had the better costume.' After the Christmas play was announced, I had been dreaming all autumn of the Virgin Mary and the essence of femininity that I knew the role possessed if I could only get it. No longer would I have to pull on pants, hide my hair, swagger around with plastic swords or sit in a chair uttering the mild regrets of middle age. No, for once I would be the centre of delight and attention, with a husband, a donkey and various deferential well-wishers from all walks of life to support my soft and vulnerable womanhood while at the same time getting the lion’s share of lines and scenes. Tender, frail, passive and beautiful, I would be the chosen one. The star. But since I had the wrong religion, this was not to be.' For everyone who has ever been in a school play, or whose daughter is in one right now. At the age of nine, Nyla runs into the hard facts of life. Her school nativity play turns out to be a pretty ugly affair. It opens up the cracks in the social divides, religious discrimination and dark family secrets. Told with wry humour and compassion for the pain of ch...

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At first I had been upset. I was the best actress in class, not just by my own assessment but also as overheard several times in comments from my teacher. So when the roles were handed out, I was stunned. The lead went to a class mate who had never shown a special interest in the theatre. I looked at her. She smiled and acknowledged the privilege, her blonde hair shimmering in the late morning winter sunlight that fell through the class room windows. Was it my hair? Then I looked around in the room and at all the other girls who had been cast in background parts. Why her? The boys, of course, had plenty of parts to share amongst them. Joseph, shepherds, inn keepers, Romans, kings... At least I had been cast in the second best female part – I was the archangel Gabriel. But right then I have to admit I felt nothing but contempt for the archangel Gabriel. A consolation prize, appearing in only one scene. Why? The answer was a lot more complex than I knew. In fact I had fallen afoul of religious discrimination. It was a late aftertaste of the persecution that had made my ancestors walk all the way across Europe in search of a sa...