Aimless journey

I am sincerely honored to present here a story, born in the imagination of a very talented author who saw my watercolor. I usually take classical literature, fairytales and fiction, for my illustrations, but I must say, it is a marvelous feeling to have an original piece in harmony with my drawing.

Please enjoy @isa93’s story and I hope we will soon read something new from her!



He woke up surrounded by blue. The light that shone inside the snowy cave, the robe that had kept him warm during the gelid night. Even his eyes, reflected on the blue ceiling made of ice.

The prince stretched his limbs, breaking the cold from his muscles. On his elbows, he crawled out of the low cave. He closed his eyes before emerging and then just stood there, two feets from the entrance. The freezing cold air slowly surrounded him while he prepared to open his eyes, not yet ready to face the blazing light. It wasn’t until he had put on his blue hat that he was able to take in the landscape before him. Soft blanket—pure white.

He searched for his friend in the low branches of the trees, even though he hadn’t heard its characteristic greet. It wouldn’t be there. Not this early. Feeling just slightly lonely, he resumed his journey—blue boots easily cutting through the mellow snow.

With the sun high in the sky his lively pace turned to a slower one, melting snow making it harder to advance. In the new rhythm, he thought about his mission. Would he ever find him? He was tired, but he couldn’t back down now. He had to find Raskith.

Thinking about the warlord sent a chill down his spine. Had it been wise? Taking that quest on his own? Would he be attacked? He hoped he didn’t need to use his sword. He disliked violence.

The prince almost laughed at that last thought. He had made the journey all the way from Alge-Cale to wander the depths of those woods in search of a powerful weapon that would give his kingdom a tactical advantage over their neighbours. But he disliked violence. Even with his diplomatic upbringing, he couldn’t escape it. Why was violence so easily sparked whereas peace was so elusive? Peace was anything but the absence of violence. Would it be like that forever? To fight while at war and prepare to fight while at peace. Was there an end to the cycle?

He raised the collar of his robe against his face, protecting it from the chilly wind. An almost unnoticeable rustle in the top of the trees made him smile a little. “Who? Who?” his feathered friend asked, soaring low in the late afternoon, once again keeping him company in those desolated woods. Who, indeed, could find a balance between the two powers?

The mute shadow of the owl sliding over the snow was replaced with one much bigger. Looking up, the prince marveled at the scene before him. Black silhouette covering the red twilight sky.

“Who roams these woods?” Raskith asked as he landed, the whole ground shaking from his words. The calm, golden eyes, three heads above him, radiated authority. So much that the prince felt compelled to answer immediately.

“Kalrich, Prince of Hyroc, My Lord.” He said while bowing. The prince was mesmerized by the black scales that covered the giant body from tail to wings. He focused for a moment where his talons met the snow. A perfect match. An enchanting contrast.

“What business does your kind has with the Northern Dragons, Your Highness?”

“I seek an audience with My Lord… Our kingdom calls for aid.”

For a long moment, there was no answer. It gave the sun enough time to hide completely behind the mountains, turning deep red into dark blue.

“Very well.” Raskith said at last. “Kalrich, Prince of Hyroc. You are welcome to share your concerns with the dragon council.”

Strong, yet serene. Rampaging, yet composed. Violent, yet peaceful. Following the warlord to the Northern Dragon’s den, he was surely on the right path to finding an answer.

His search was over, but the journey had just began.



Alice through the lock § Алиса през ключалката


Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; Mollie even if my head would go through,” thought poor Alice, “it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin.” For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Lewis Carroll

Les souliers au bal usés § Принцесата със скъсаните пантофки


Il y avait une fois un roi qui avait douze filles, plus belles les unes que les autres. Elles dormaient ensemble dans une vaste pièce, leurs lits étaient alignés côte à côte, et chaque soir, dès qu’elles étaient couchées, le roi refermait la porte et poussait le verrou. Or, le roi constatait tous les matins, après avoir ouvert la porte, que les princesses avaient des souliers usés par la danse. Personne n’était capable d’élucider le mystère.

Frères Grimm



Чешмата има особено значение и символика в българската традиция. Тя е извор на живот и място за приказки, среща на влюбените, където стари и млади, жени и мъже, богати и бедни се спират за да утолят жаждата си и да напълнят стомните си. В миналото богатите и видни жители безвъзмездно давали пари за построяването на чешма, за да оставят следа и да дарят нещо ценно на техните съграждани.

Легенди разказват, че за да се избегне лоша орис в чешмата трябва да се вгради сянката на добра, лична девойка. Жестока е тази легенда защото остави ли момата сянката си в студения камък полинява. Но водата така тече чиста и носи живот на цялото село.

La fontana è un simbolo speciale nella tradizione bulgara. Si tratta di una fonte di vita e un luogo per parlare, punto d’incontro degli innamorati, dove giovani e anziani, uomini e donne, ricchi e poveri si fermano per dissetarsi e riempire le loro brocche. Nel passato, le persone ricche e i padroni donavano i loro soldi per costruire una fontana lasciando una tracia, qualcosa di prezioso ai loro concittadini.

La legenda dice che per essere evitata la cattiva sorte nella fontana si deve integrare l’ombra di una giovane e bella ragazza. E’ crudele questa tradizione, perché lasciata l’ombra nelle pietre fredde della fontana la ragazza si ammalava. E l’acqua scorreva pura e portava la vita nel villaggio.

Sputnik 2


Ever since that day, Sumire’s private name for Miu was Sputnik Sweetheart. She Loved the sound of it. It made her think of Laika, the dog. The man-made satellite streaking soundlessly across the blackness of outer space. The dark, lustrous eyes of the dog gazing out of the tiny window. In the infinite loneliness of space, what could Laika possibly be looking at?

Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami

Sputnik Sweetheart I


Were you asleep?” Sumire asked.

Um,” I groaned and instinctively glanced at the alarm clock beside my bed. The clock had huge fluorescent hands, but I couldn’t read the time. The image projected on my retina and the part of my brain that processed it were out of sync, like an old lady struggling, unsuccessfully, to thread a needle. What I could understand was that it was dark all around and close to Fitzgerald’s “Dark Night of the Soul”.

Maria, Dubliners


The matron had given her leave to go out as soon as the women’s tea was over and Maria looked forward to her evening out. The kitchen was spick and span: the cook said you could see yourself in the big copper boilers. The fire was nice and bright and on one of the side-tables were four very big barmbracks. (…)

Maria was a very, very small person indeed but she had a very long nose and a very long chin. She talked a little through her nose, always soothingly: “Yes, my dear,” and “No, my dear.”

Clay,  James Joyce

THE GOBLIN AND THE HUCKSTER § Джуджето и бакалинът


From the book shot forth a ray of light which grew broad and full, like the stem of a tree, from which bright rays spread upward and over the student’s head. Each leaf was fresh, and each flower was like a beautiful female head; some with dark and sparkling eyes, and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars, and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined, much less seen or heard of, any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe, peeping in, till the light went out in the garret. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed; but the little goblin remained standing there nevertheless, and listening to the music which still sounded on, soft and beautiful, a sweet cradle-song for the student, who had lain down to rest.

“This is a wonderful place,” said the goblin; “I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student;” and the little man thought it over, for he was a sensible little spirit. At last he sighed, “but the student has no jam!”

Hans Christian Andersen

Poirot and Japp

poirot and japp

I think the Adams girl did it,’ said Japp, rising. ‘A fine bit of work on your part, M. Poirot, to tumble to that. But there, of course, you go about to theatres and amusing yourself. Things strike you that don’t get the chance of striking me. Pity there’s no apparent motive, but a little spade work will soon bring it to light, I expect.’

‘There is one person with a motive to whom you have given no attention,’ remarked Poirot.

‘Who’s that, sir?’

Lord Edgware dies

Agatha Christie

Christmas song


O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum
Wie treu sind deine Blätter
Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit,
Nein, auch im Winter, wenn es schneit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Wie treu sind deine Blätter.

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen.
Wie oft hat nicht zur Weihnachtszeit
Ein Baum von dir mich hoch erfreut.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen.

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Dein Kleid will mich was lehren.
Die Hoffnung und Beständigkeit,
Gibt Trost und Kraft zu jeder Zeit!
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Dein Kleid will mich was lehren.

Death in Midsummer





Tomoko ran down to the beach in her bare feet. The pine needles stabbed at her as she went through the groove. The tide had come in, and she had to climb over the rock to the bathing-beach.









Oh? You’re related to the people who drowned at A. Beach? That’s too bad. Two children and a woman all at once, they say.


Yukio Mishima

Playground love

playground love.jpg

I’m a high school lover, and you’re my favorite flavor.
Love is all, all my soul.
You’re my Playground Love.
Yet my hands are shaking.
I feel my body remains tense,
No matter, I’m on fire.
On the playground, love.
You’re the piece of gold that flushes all my soul.
Extra time, on the ground.
You’re my Playground Love.

Giacomo di cristallo…

ohliov giacomo.jpg… libero al mare…


Una volta, in una città lontana, venne al mondo 
un bambino trasparente.
Attraverso le sue membra si poteva vedere come
attraverso l’aria e l’acqua.
Era di carne e d’ossa e pareva di vetro, 
e se cadeva non andava in pezzi, ma al più
si faceva sulla fronte un bernoccolo trasparente.
Si vedeva il suo cuore battere, si vedevano
i suoi pensieri guizzare come pesci colorati nella loro vasca.
Gianni Rodari

Under the willow-tree § Sous le saule

sous le saule

Yet still he seemed conscious that the willow-tree was stretching its branches over him; in his dreaming state the tree appeared like a strong, old man—the “willow-father” himself, who had taken his tired son up in his arms to carry him back to the land of home, to the garden of his childhood, on the bleak open shores of Kjoge.  And then he dreamed that it was really the willow-tree itself from Kjoge, which had travelled out in the world to seek him, and now had found him and carried him back into the little garden on the banks of the streamlet; and there stood Joanna, in all her splendor, with the golden crown on her head, as he had last seen her, to welcome him back.

Hans Christian Andersen

Death on the Nile


 With a quick gesture she fumbled in a little silk bag that lay on the seat.
Then she held out her hand. On the palm of it was a small pearl-handled pistol
a dainty toy it looked.

Agatha Christie

Little Tuk

There he lay, still thinking of the geography lesson, of Seeland, and of all that the master had said. He could not read the book again, as he should by rights have done, for want of a light. So he put the geography-book under his pillow. Somebody had once told him that would help him wonderfully to remember his lesson, but he had never yet found that one could depend upon it.


sogni nel mare

There he lay and thought and thought, till all at once he felt as though some one were gently sealing his mouth and eyes with a kiss. He slept and yet did not sleep, for he seemed to see the old washerwoman’s mild, kind eyes fixed upon him, and to hear her say: “It would be a shame, indeed, for you not to know your lesson to-morrow, little Tuk.

Hans Christian Andersen

Dans un cafe a rue Bonaparte


cafe a rue bonaparte

Tant d’étoiles sur terre et tant de fleurs au ciel
Tout ça avec vous
Ça me rendra fou
Nous irons danser et nous irons traîner
En passant le temps à s’aimer

Quand vous recevrez
Ce petit billet
Ma chérie, dites-moi que vous acceptez
Puisque je vous invite
A me suivre bien vite
Oh… venez
Venez à Cannes
Cet été

Boris Vian