Category: female literature
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FLOWERS
She thought it was a pity he seemed to have decided to agree on everything she had to say, being this quite unlikely shall honesty had been scenting the night. She thought of him as handsome and even dared to imagine herself embraced by that big chest, strong arms and firm hands, the idea of…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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DIRTY, SHE SAID
With the tip of her unpolished nails she plays by the rim of the glass resting in front of her by the surface of the bar, beautifully raw, like she. The intensity of her libation she thought to match well the situation. Anticipation had been building up since the sun rose, she had been gently…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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THAT EXIT
For about two years I walked around with panda eyes, they all laugh at such an abrupt statement, and so did she, even though, it was true and it had taken a long while for it to be fun, at last; sharing drinks in this fancy hotel where, apparently, Madonna often stays, second fun-fact of…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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THE WITCHES ARE OUT TONIGHT
Though she knows being on her own is grand, all this beautiful things she gets to do, all this wonderful adventures she gets to go through, still, sometimes, she does notice a slight gentle touch of loneliness sliding from her naked shoulder down to her bare hand and all the way to the tips of…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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RASPBERRY LANE
One, two, three, her rhythms, her routines. She has her habits, her divisions in the fridge, her daily little techniques. Not too fancy to her view, all is quite low key; her coffee, instant powder, to the horror of the ones that happen to pass by. By her room, by her life. The excitement of…
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A DIFFERENT LIFE
You will not hate me tomorrow, were the gentle words served along with the gentle pour of water in the glass next to her other glass, the one filled up with the good stuff. How could I? She thought, unable to refrain from displaying a smile full of satisfaction; it is a grand feeling, indeed,…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT TOUCH
I go down clutching my legs to reach out and tied up my shoe lace. It has been a good night. I met the people I was supposed to meet, saw friends, and yes, you’ve touched my hand. Hidden in plain sight our fingers have teased playfully behind the stem of the glass with my…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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QUITE PLACE
I just need some more time to pass in between my last message sent and this overwhelming, and highly revealing, quiet space to regain my sense of personal pride. This distance is leaving me cold while decreasing your relevance. The hard to believe part is that I still need to convince myself about the meaning…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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YOU WILL MEET A TALL PALE STRANGER
I write novels, he said. I write short-stories, said she. Well, that is also fine, replied he, a patronizing clumsy tall pale male standing in front of her. Giving the impression of embodying a degree of hope for success in the business of inspiring some attraction, he continued with his unfortunate display of efforts. She…
Ana Iñigo Olea
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AMY, AMY, AMY
I often find myself talking to Amy. I listen to her and the answer is underlined in the way I embrace her voice through my presence, the physical and the other, and I think on the time we met, when our lives crossed paths more like. You excused yourself politely while approaching the bar with…
Ana Iñigo Olea 