World So Wide

Someone's autumn is another one's spring

2026-09-25T03:42:49.804-07:00

It feels like a headstand

to think of spring

now that everything here is

turning yellow and orange

and dropping off

Not that easy to comprehend

things are shooting out

of the ground, turning

green and flowery and

unfolding down south

Written for Friday Writings #246: Light-hearted words for Spring (the prompt originated in the southern hemisphere).

Turquoise Night

2026-09-23T00:23:41.067-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday. Digital photograph created with Vignette for Android on a Sony Xperia MiniPro. Also available for collectors on Objkt.

Family, well ...

2026-09-19T14:37:15.696-07:00

Family’s great, right? And blood is thicker than water, right? Well, well, well ...

My father had a five siblings – Christine, Otto, Ernest, Emmy, Eugene. He, William, was the baby.

In general, the brothers and sisters got along very well, particularly while their parents were alive, but there were some issues that came up as they got older.

Their father had a company, and soon the question arose who would follow in his footsteps. This was in the 1930s, so – of course – the girls were not even considered. It was then that Otto said he didn’t want Bill in the management even though by that time he had a degree in engineering and was well qualified. However, the rest of the siblings, including my aunts, vetoed this, so the management ended up being a board of four. Gene, the businessman, had a brain for numbers and was largely responsible for business decisions. Ernest largely called the product development shots, coming up with mostly good ideas but also some that ended up losing money. Bill was inventive and a problem solver. He had the ability to turn something from the drawing board into a perfectly functioning product. Otto – well, no-one knew exactly what his contribution was. He spent most of his time walking around the halls and barking commands at the workers. Who mostly shook their heads behind his back.

Things went fairly well for all appearances. But underneath the surface there was a bitter rivalry between Ernest and Eugene, which was also fomented by their wives, neither of whom had a single good word to say about the other. Their children learned to disklike each other and be envious and wary of each other at an early age. Even the dogs – one per family – hated each other and would fight, sometimes with serious injuries, whenever they had a chance.

My sister and I – Bill’s offspring – were quite a bit younger than our cousins, generally got along with everyone and were too naive to perceive the numerous tensions.

Once the older generation retired, the company essentially passed on to Ernest’s son-in-law and Eugene’s son, who had to get along to some extent but had completely opposite views and made no secret of their mutual disdain.

The company continues to exist and thrive to this very day, now in the fourth generation, still run by family members who basically hate each other, agree on hardly anything and still somehow keep pulling things together.

But that’s family, right?

Written for Friday Writings #245: Family.

Disclaimer
Similarities with people living or dead are entirely coincidental.

Cefalù, Sicily

2026-09-19T02:01:15.230-07:00

A view of Cefalù, Sicily, from a nearby beach. Strange colors due to the creative film used. Available as a collectible.

Leica R5 with 50 mm Leitz Summilux on Lomochrome Turquoise film.

The lucky haiku

2026-09-18T09:20:54.563-07:00

Haiku! he said as
part of a sneeze. As we all
know, this brings good luck.

Greatly Fictionalized – an Updated Fairytale

2026-09-16T06:07:37.887-07:00

My name is Cynthia McFarland, from the reputable family in the Cavendish Moors. I am better known as Cinderella, the heroine of a well-known fairytale. Some elements of the tale are true – the horrible stepmother and the envious nasty stepsisters. But I did not talk to pigeons and I never rode in an oversized pumpkin.

Even the glass slipper is pure embroidery. Perhaps someone came up with that idea because of the performance at the ball that night, where a boy artist walked across a five foot line of champagne flutes without falling off or breaking any of them. Something else that also happened was that my stepsister Metallia got so drunk that she asked for more champagne to be poured in the slipper she had removed from her not so dainty foot. With the result that some high-price bubbles were wasted as it all drained to the floor through the openings in the slipper. Upon which she made an un-lady-like remark and put the wet slipper back on, narrowly avoiding a collision with the floor as she was doing so.

Anyway, there were no bloody toes due to one of my sisters trying out a slipper that did not fit.

It is true, though, that my slippers were involved in the story, because I left them under the curtains in the ballroom.

“How can I find you, my unknown angel?” the prince said as I told him I had to leave after our last dance.

“If you look, you will find something of mine hidden under heavy brocade, and this will tell you.”

Two days later, a carriage bearing the royal insignia arrived in front of our manor; a uniformed servant and the prince stepped out. The servant proclaimed that His Majesty Prince Dilip requested to see the lady of the house. Who, of course, was enchanted by the visit, thinking of an impending alliance of her offspring with the royal house.

“Dear Lady McFarland, there is something I have to return to your daughter.”

“Oh my dear – what could it be? – Shall I call for Metallia or Auralia?”

“It is for your daughter Cynthia.”

The look on her face when she heard this must have been priceless.

I was called eventually, even though I had on my sports clothes, having practiced martial arts as I always did in the morning.

“My dear Cynthia, you have a princely visitor who wishes to return something to you. Even though I wonder what it could possibly be.”

On a sign by the prince, the servant stepped up to me and presented a box covered in golden cloth.

“I believe these belong to you, Countess,” the prince said, “and am returning them to renew our acquaintance.”

I had left a little note with my name in the slippers when I left them in the ballroom.

The rest is history – he asked for my hand, we had a wonderful wedding in the royal palace and lived happily ever after, as is the end of all fairytales. Even though it could be added that three semi-relatives of mine were a bit less than happy.

Notes
This story was inspired by and written for Friday Writings #244: If the Glass Slipper Fits.

Means of Transport

2026-09-15T22:53:03.605-07:00

Slightly glitched (taken with an app called GlitchCam).

Posted for Wordless Wednesday.

The commercial TV haiku

2026-09-14T07:42:26.156-07:00

or: the sharks never get their mouth full enough

Wham bam – next
commercial break. Trip to
bathroom again.

Note
Seems like the likes of Netflix and Amazon have lost any semblance of shame by ramping up their commercial servings. Even though they get paid, they obviously think they’re not getting paid enough. What’s the ratio now – five minutes of viewing, then five minutes of commercials, then repeat? By the time you've finished a show, you know the commercials better than the plot.

My gripes with you

2026-09-09T00:54:42.839-07:00

1. You do not rinse the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher.

2. Forks go in with the fork end up, knives with the cutting end up. You do it randomly.

3. I have a system for the plates you do not follow: the big plates go on the right, the smaller ones and soup plates on the left.

4. You teach the children how to put things in the dishwasher the wrong way.

5. You move things around the way it suits you or do not put them back in the right place.

6. This includes books on the shelves, CDs and framed photographs.

7. Your cynical remarks imply that you have a liberal view of things.

8. This includes remarks that imply that the current president is not a good choice for the country.

9. You once said that you hoped for my sake that my son would end up marrying a black or Asian girl. Later you said it had been a joke.

10. But I know it was not a joke, even though it’s true that you may have had too much to drink as you said.

Note

Written for Friday Writings #243: By the Numbers.

Disclaimer

All similarities of the people mentioned or described here with real characters living or passed away are entirely coincidental.

Riga, Latvia

2026-09-09T00:22:48.613-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday

Leica R4 with 50 mm Summilux lens on Harman Switch Azure film, a creative film with color shifts.

A not so uncommon perspective

2026-09-02T10:35:47.786-07:00

I can't stop staring at him from across the classroom. Such a dear face – good jawline, honey brown eyes with a warmth that mark my universe, and the way his dark curls fall just so over his forehead. He's laughing at something the guy next to him said, and that smile – it’s like a halo. My stomach flips every time I get so see it. Why does he have to be so ridiculously handsome? It's unfair.

And the guitar. Yesterday after school I hung around the music room, pretending to look for a lost something, just so I could hear him practice. Those fingers caressing the strings like they were born for it. The soft acoustic notes filled the room, and I stood frozen, heart pounding so loud I thought he'd hear it. He plays with effortless passion, eyes half-closed, completely lost in the music. I imagine him playing for me someday, but most likely that will never happen.

He doesn't even pretend to know me. Whenever he happens to look at me, which has happened a few times, I feel I’m just another face in school. While I'm composing entire futures in my head – us walking home together, him teaching me a few chords, maybe even kissing down by the lake during a bonfire – he's probably thinking about next week's soccer practice or whatever popular girl is currently orbiting him. I saw Ginevra lean in close today, whispering something that made him grin. My chest tightened so I could barely breathe.

I try to focus on the teacher's voice, on the scribbledegook on the board, but my mind drifts right back. What would it feel like if he looked at me the way I look at him? Long enough to notice I catch my breath whenever he walks by. Long enough to notice that I exist. I stay quiet, keep my head down and let the crush eat away at me in silence. It's stupid. It's painful. And still, every morning, I hope this day might be different.

– Invisible Paula

Written for Friday Writings #242: Perspective.

Bog trail in Estonia

2026-09-02T00:14:47.686-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday

A contemporary haiku

2026-09-01T10:39:27.027-07:00

It’s adamantly
innocuous, tangibly
delicious, munchy.

Note
This one sort of parodies the contemporary (over)use of unusual adjective / adverb constructions, which must have originated from some creative writing workshop teachings or simply is trendy. Their purpose seems to be to inject more poeticity.

A street in Hamburg

2026-08-19T04:45:30.560-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday

New Delhi at Night

2026-08-12T00:17:42.662-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday.

Diagnosis

2026-08-09T05:44:08.129-07:00

I went to see the doctor.

“What are your symptoms, Mr. ... Um?”

“For a while now I’ve found it hard to enjoy myself, to see the funny side of things. Whatever the news, things are always on the sad side. Global and personal.”

The doctor took out his stethoscope and started listening to my inner workings in various places. Finally stopped to follow up with palpitation. Sat there without saying anything for a minute.

“Doctor?”

“Mr. ... Um ... Blumfeld. Your funny bone is broken.”

“And what can be done about that? A cast?”

“Nothing whatsoever. It simply takes a lot of self-healing. And the realization that both sad and humorous things don’t depend on you. It’s all about what you make of them.”

“Thank you, doctor. I could have come to the same conclusion reading Deepak Chopra.”

“That will be 120 euros. The receptionist handles payments.”

Written for the prompt “down to the bone” at Poets and Storytellers United.

Hamburg Skyline

2026-08-05T01:25:02.329-07:00

Posted for Wordless Wednesday.

The August in Rome Haiku

2026-08-04T03:56:20.528-07:00

It’s brutal out there –
feels like getting cooked as you
walk on the pavement

Note
Nothing but the not very poetic global warming truth.

Blurry and red

2026-07-21T23:22:08.806-07:00

Ostiense

Part of Rome, Italy. Hanimex 110 IF pocket camera on Lomography Lobster film (a redscale film). A contribution to Wordless Wednesday.

Meta Haiku

2026-06-26T09:18:22.755-07:00

Trying to write one
based on reading one about
writing a haiku.

Note
That’s exactly what happened here. Plain, flat truth! If we were in frog land instead of poetry land, one haiku would be leapfrogging the other.

You must haiku

2026-06-08T13:35:09.283-07:00

Like you must see this
hyaluronic acid eye
commercial. So good!

Notes
So he said let’s haiku – too much time has passed without. Nothing but the truth as usual. Except the invented parts.

The summer moon haiku

2026-05-03T10:02:00.000-07:00

The summer moon im-
bibed God knows what and spat it
out disgustedly

Note
Derived from today’s prompt from Daily Haiku Prompt, which was “Summer Moon” for north and “Imbibe” for south. Once again, I combined both in an entirely unhaikuistic manner.

The bonnet haiku

2026-05-03T09:40:00.000-07:00

The confetti trees
and somewhere among them your
calico bonnet. Yes!

Note
This one came seemingly out of nowhere and but also resulted from a confluence of things that occurred: a) I read someone else’s haiku, b) I walked by Barbara Guest’s The Confetti Trees lying on a chair in my office, and c) I thought of the song Return of the Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons, which has the line “And I thought about a calico bonnet from Cheyenne to Tennessee.” To my knowledge, this is the only instance of a calico bonnet in contemporary music.

Applied math

2026-04-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

The proverb says:

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Hence, applying simple math:

Five apples a day keep five doctors away.

This is definitely mathematically correct. Right? Or did I get it all wrong?

Maybe the proverb actually says:

A doctor a day keeps an apple away?

Maa Ka Sum (2026 Hindi TV Series)

2026-04-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

If you've never had much of a liking for mathematics (like yours truly), this Indian comedy/drama series is bound to take your dislike up to 100% in no time. Never before has there been anything so full of blackboards with formula gibberish and dialogs equally filled with math and algorithm nonsense.

What it boils down to is that Agastya, a math student and prodigy, is convinced that he can program the perfect dating app using mathematical formulas and algorithms to find the perfectly matched partner for his mother, who has not been very lucky in that department.

I’ll give you three guesses as to whether this will work in the end.