
Katerina Petrou
Bio
Combining my passions of travelling, food, poetry and photography, I welcome you to read my stories.
Stories (117)
Filter by community
The Grief Of Losing A Happy Place
Woke up that morning desperate to see him. Listened to jazz while I made myself look pretty. The anticipation excited me as I pondered which book to take with me, what I would write, eat, feel. Before stepping out of the door, I checked my phone for the route. Trains cancelled. Why, why would they stand in our way? Though, my thrill would not be dampened by this delay, so I took another route in his direction. Three times the duration and more the effort, the only thing getting me through was knowing it would lead me to him. Perhaps the sun would be dimmer and my eyes a little wearier but I would spark to life the moment I walked through his doors and into his beating heart. Finally, I arrived. Walked past the bookstores and galleries with a skip in my step. All of the surrounding chaos would dissipate the moment we would meet. I turned the corner and there he was, lifeless. My feet stopped for a moment, then slowly edged towards him. Standing before a locked door, frozen, in shock. It felt surreal, and I was not so sure my strength could carry me much further. I lowered my body to the cold step, and I weeped.
By Katerina Petrou12 months ago in Wander
Amsterdam's Addiction To Lust
It will either make me mad or proud. Anticipating my upcoming trip to Amsterdam, I knew what made it most famous. Although this was not the reason for my flight to the city, it was something I was curious to see with my own eyes. I have always thought I was quite a progressive person - happily able to speak about sex with ease and interest. I adore lingerie and feeling sexy, fascinated with sexual identities and the portrayal of sex in art. Amsterdam being unashamed in its sexual nature, I believed I might actually enjoy the red-tinted side of the city. That walking up and down the streets with women free to work in an industry mostly illegal - that this act of legalisation would ensure their safety and ethical treatment.
By Katerina Petrou12 months ago in Wander
Finding Beauty In Seville When The Agenda Falls Through
It was a simple question. How was Seville? Colleagues, family, seemingly everybody asked me this question upon my return - as is expected. Though, I could not answer it so simply. The city was gorgeous - familiar yet otherworldly with its warm bulbs that differed from the stark and harsh light of London. Why could I not say that? Instead, I stuttered and stumbled over my words. It would appear I had been disappointed by my visit. I was not, not at all. When somebody embarks outside of their home, there is a societal expectation to return with feedback - with stories and opinions. The landmarks that we see in magazines and on social media, how were they up close? Yes, I saw many of these famous locations. Though, it was not those experiences that imprinted on my memory. It was the space in between the steps I took towards those points on the map that I treasure. The gaps in between words of a beautiful sentence that make your mind wander and think about life a bit more. Seville was gorgeous, yes. But our mind controls our eyes. As well as our heart and soul. Our grief, hope, pain and love. It is my poetry that saw Seville in a way that others may not understand. The way I see life, it is not so easy to explain. This is why I write. So, I will write.
By Katerina Petrou12 months ago in Wander
Carousel
She took herself to the beach for the day. Though, she is not entirely sure why. Seemingly, her recent days are spent searching for something - but she cannot remember what she lost. Walking through the streets with an empty backpack on her hunched shoulders and a plead in her hollow eyes, she sees the way they look at her. A helpless animal on the side of the street. A potentially dangerous person. Unpredictable, a little bit laughable. As she emerges through crowds of pitying strangers with slight smiles in the corners of their curious mouths, she spots a bookstore. While the sky above her head colours gloomy and dim, the store bursts with warm bulbs and welcome. Timidly stepping through the door, she makes her way to the poetry.
By Katerina Petrouabout a year ago in Photography
Birthing Anima, Where Could She Go?
Anima: female soul existing in the intimate part of every man. I had envisaged her for a while. Glimpses of a white face with big eyes and lips. It was not clear where she came from, what decade or planet. But, she was there - in my mind. Proud and beautiful. The night I birthed her was a night like many, I was overwhelmed and unsure why I was feeling so overwhelmed. Before, I would wallow in my silent cries until they would subside for the night. Though, now I do not stifle my pain. Finally, I have learnt to ask for help. My brother was in the next room so I sent him a message. Are you busy? In between my deep breaths, I heard a door handle turn. He saw me and gently asked what was wrong. I told him that I did not know. But, that I might know why I am this way. I told him everything and he listened.
By Katerina Petrouabout a year ago in Motivation
Like A Bridge
You know that I have not yet healed. And, I know it has been difficult for you all to watch me fail and try and fail again. No more will I put you through this. I will be spending this Christmas alone and however many more Christmases it will take until I can return with a smile.
By Katerina Petrouabout a year ago in Families
A Love Letter To Paul
Even as I sit beside you writing this, you are loud. Quite abrasive at times. There is no need to shout when I am so close to you. My voice remains steady at all times as you live in my heart when we are together or apart. I made an effort for you, as I always do. Lace skirt and tights and I cut my hair recently, did you notice? You have many other suiters, it is true, but none of them love you like I do. To them, you may be convenient as a pit stop on their way to something they desire. You know that you hold a certain novelty that others tire of. Not I, never.
By Katerina Petrouabout a year ago in Humans





