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The Spell of Silences, or Acknowledgements for a Bachelor’s Thesis
by Emel PeksözRead more: The Spell of Silences, or Acknowledgements for a Bachelor’s ThesisIt is half an hour before midnight, and I am staring at the screen of my corroding laptop, awaiting my cue to click the crimson button and end the inferno. Somehow, three years of studying, over two decades of living, have coalesced into a rectangle. My hands tremble above the keyboard, keeping time with the…
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Cre(AIt)ive Art and Literature
by Maia PopaRead more: Cre(AIt)ive Art and LiteratureFor centuries, art has been used as a form of expression of human passions and lived experiences, and that is precisely what made art art. The ability to transpose ideas into words, images into paintings and tunes into music was a definitive factor which separated humankind from all of the other species. Nonetheless, with the…
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Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby
by Jomma GrootRead more: Let’s Talk About Sex, BabySometimes the writing process can be a bit slow. The term “writer’s block” is all too well-known to all of us writing for this magazine. When I had to come up with a new topic for my article (yes, the one you are reading right now), I did not feel satisfied with the options I…
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Matcha Epidemic: History, Health and Status Symbol
by Pia JungRead more: Matcha Epidemic: History, Health and Status SymbolMatcha. That green powder mixed with milk to make the perfectly aesthetic matcha latte, the mochi, the ice cream, the chocolate, the cakes, the cookies, the face masks, the lip balms. Matcha, that vibrant green substance, has become a social signifier for a Pinterest aesthetic, a soft-pink-pilates-girl lifestyle. It is not only omnipresent, but it…
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On Strawberries or the Fleetingness of Time
by Júlia NevesRead more: On Strawberries or the Fleetingness of Time“Don’t forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.” (Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star) “Impostor syndrome” they say, empathetically inclining their heads to the right, lips in a downward motion, eyes a well of sorry. I return to myself. My hands on my lap, my gaze diving in, searching…
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Writer's Block Magazine 