“Dipingere la Sopravvivenza,” an Italian memoir, captures the artistic journey of a “post-industrial shaman,” Art. Embracing creativity amidst personal struggles, the book chronicles her transformation from a narrowboat life in London to artistic rebirth in Bath. It’s a celebration of resilience and expression, now available on Amazon.
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The Vixen and the Feast of Shadows
In the Kingdom of Rats, a Vixen navigates through a web of deceit, contrasting with creatures like the cunning Weasel and the heavy Boar. While the Weasel subtly disrupts order, the Vixen remains largely unaffected, ultimately choosing silence. Her absence, marked by a soft light, signifies her detachment from a hollow existence, unsettling the others profoundly.
The Keeper
by Laura Bernardeschi Nelson In the Grey Clearing, the fog was not made of mist but of unfinished thoughts and swallowed words. It lingered low, heavy and unmoving, as if the place itself had forgotten how to breathe. At the centre of this stillness lived the Weasel. She was small, precise, and always slightly damp,ContinueContinue reading “The Keeper”
The Mud Dance
In Laura Bernardeschi Nelson’s short story, “The Vixen,” a cunning fox observes chaotic interactions among various characters across a muddy riverbank. The Sheep, Crow, Hippopotamus, Rats, Pug, and Badger each embody futile efforts to gain control, while the Vixen remains unaffected, ultimately leaping into the trees as the cycle of chaos continues.
Madame Bulk and the Office of Absurdity
Inside the Great Stone Den, Madame Bulk and her peculiar team engage in bizarre antics amidst an oppressive atmosphere. With characters like the narcissistic Badger and the frantic Pug, they grapple with trivialities while the mysterious Vixen symbolizes a longing for liberation. The Den’s stale environment mirrors the characters’ stagnant lives.
The Race of the Ridiculous: A Tale of the Garden’s Shadow
by Laura Bernardeschi Nelson By Laura Bernardeschi Nelson The afternoon sun hung low over the Garden, casting long, skeletal shadows across the gravel paths. The air held that peculiar stillness that comes just before dusk, when even the breeze seems to hesitate. High above the grit, perched on a weathered stone plinth worn smooth byContinueContinue reading “The Race of the Ridiculous: A Tale of the Garden’s Shadow”