Unrooted By Anaëlle Gonzalez (20.04.2023) The following narrative poem started from a conversation with my dear friend Paulina Januszewska, about our experiences of living in-between two cultures, two countries, and never fully feeling rooted in neither. I started writing it in 2022 and finished it more than a year after to capture the evolution of my experience a the time. I. I wonder where my life is: Here, there or maybe Some place in-between. Like oil I dive in the clouded waters Of the Belgian-Flemish manners, Half submerged, half sailing Through the shapeless urge To melt the painful borders, To
Month: June 2026
The object By Anaëlle Gonzalez (30.10.2025) Today I saw a picture of a mountain, its spine against the dawn —magnificent and flat. I heard birds sing through the wind in my meditation app. I saw sunsets rehearsed, forests framed and the moon adjusted for brightness. I frowned at the pain parading the screen —children dying, a school shooting, felt outrage for what happens overseas, posted so everyone could see, then ignored the man in the