Lasha Desela
Bio
I'm a world traveler, educator, writer that loves to meet new people, share good conversations, articles, books and stories. I'm also a photographer, language enthusiast, music goer, technology keen and of course a foodie.
Stories (13)
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The Date
Passing the time, looking around and looking for a soul to accompany to follow, she continues to walk towards the dark small alley. So many feelings to hold, to resist, to procrastinate so no one will know how she feels. She continued to look, to see if she could find the smell, the shadow left by that man.
By Lasha Desela4 months ago in Confessions
Manchester
Honorable working city, industrial clothes legacy, that it looks like metal one to me, but it is not. Working class, immigrants hub, full of faith and different religions path. Manchester shows a gigantic love to everything new. People looking for the football fever, tourist escaping from London. Young fellows in the alternative gender world walking around on surf boards in a bar. Streets closed to traffic, full of bars, taverns, restaurants and not so good kebab fast food chain. Somehow people feel snob, but maybe they are discrete.
By Lasha Desela5 months ago in Journal
Mr. O
I met him sitting on a bench at a park minded his own business. He stand up and gave me a charming “ear to ear smile,” effortlessly beautiful. After that he made me feel at ease, untroubled to be myself without fears to show my flaws, my shadows or even my thoughts.
By Lasha DeselaExclusive • 6 months ago
Love in a box
I'm putting our love in a box, those complete twenty-years and some. I'm putting our love on standby until we both know what life wants. I'm hurt, a stale frustrated, full of glitch words shouldn't be a justification to break those vows that we took. But life is unfair and its karma comes back as an end of a tale.
By Lasha Desela8 months ago in Poets
Oh Sydney
Oh Sydney what a city. A combination of all worlds, but not orcs, or dwarf , or not an Elf, mostly coloniazers and new world comers and the extinction of Aborigines, in which a Peruvian Restaurant is publicly shown without not fear. Oh Sydney, I feel like home, because your sun rays reminds me of Sevilla, your architecture to an old Center town in Düsseldorf, but it is Sydney all afterwards with the Harbour bridge as a backdrop landmark and the Quay circle to backfill the situation. Thanks for giving me this water energetic spectacle and vivid dreams of lights projecting on a city canvas, in which I showered to continue fighting through life and to enjoy it as much as I can.
By Lasha Desela8 months ago in Poets
Allowing me to apologize
Words come and go; some stay in anyone’s mind, especially those words that hurt, that make anyone tremble, feel hurt, to be dismantled without power, feel vulnerable. Words could hurt and create a poison state, a going in circle situation, and even worse they could bring hate where love was before. Those words were used for years as well as the grob parameter. Words hurt, words that come from frustration, dark places, revenge, discussions, fights and misunderstanding.
By Lasha Desela8 months ago in Poets
I didn't see me
Days have passed, it has rained and some sunshine had come by, and I couldn't feel anything. My body grew, my arms, exploded, my tights and my belly emerged like a volcano, and I didn't see me. I continued to get bigger, to eat without conscious, control or even a paused. I didn't see me. Years passed and I lost me..... I lost my connection between mind and body and I lost myself to the darkness daily routine. I became a machine, just doing, just making things without feeling, without creativity. I didn't see me and I couldn't feel myself neither.
By Lasha Desela8 months ago in Poets
Sleeping with Amsterdam
From my bed, I can see the window that takes up the entire wall. The curtains are double-layered, gray and heavy, with a firm authority to block out the sun’s rays. But now it’s nighttime, and all that’s visible are the lights of the buildings and the lights poles, and of course, the opulent city of Amsterdam, which feels as if it’s right next to the bed—or better yet, as if it’s inside the room.
By Lasha Desela9 months ago in Poets
