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Loren Edizel
Goodreads Author
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
June 2012
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The Ghosts of Smyrna
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published
2008
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6 editions
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Adrift
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published
2011
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3 editions
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Days of Moonlight
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published
2018
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3 editions
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Confessions: A Book of Tales
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published
2014
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4 editions
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Which Olive Tree Did You Sit Under?
I was recently invited by Sheniz Janmohamed, fellow author and artist, to contribute to her blog Questions For Ancestors. Hope you enjoy the read!
https://questionsforancestors.com/
https://questionsforancestors.com/
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“Hell is the place, much like a theatre, where those betrayed are made to watch the scenes of their betrayal re-enacted ad nauseam with minute variations.”
― Days of Moonlight
― Days of Moonlight
“After the initial shock subsides, the Aegean Sea,
turquoise and limpid, enveloping my limbs feels like a gigantic womb. I think, as we swim side by side moving our legs and arms in unison like synchronized frogs, of the sea as the mother
of the first creatures who crawled out of it and somehow, eventually became me and Patron’s operatic wife. She is still wearing her glasses and is careful to keep her teased puffy hair out of the water.”
― Days of Moonlight
turquoise and limpid, enveloping my limbs feels like a gigantic womb. I think, as we swim side by side moving our legs and arms in unison like synchronized frogs, of the sea as the mother
of the first creatures who crawled out of it and somehow, eventually became me and Patron’s operatic wife. She is still wearing her glasses and is careful to keep her teased puffy hair out of the water.”
― Days of Moonlight
“Beyond the crust of the earth and its atmosphere is the unimaginable silence of perpetuity from which life spares us with its incessant chatter. When stars explode, who hears them?”
― Days of Moonlight
― Days of Moonlight
Topics Mentioning This Author
| topics | posts | views | last activity | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
Historical Fictio...:
February 2016 Nominations: A Short Book: Less than 350 pages
|
113 | 405 | Jan 09, 2016 09:13PM | |
| Ancient & Medieva...: * Modern Age (1800 - ) | 76 | 288 | Jul 09, 2020 07:06PM | |
| Ancient & Medieva...: * What Are You Reading Right Now? ( Hwæt béon ðu bocrædung?) | 10105 | 2140 | Aug 26, 2025 05:54AM |
“Death is a formidable enemy and I cannot forgive God for it. I cannot forgive God for leaving us here, at the mercy of a universe we don’t understand, without enough words, without enough solace, endlessly waiting for our turn to disappear and become nothing.”
― Days of Moonlight
― Days of Moonlight
“So, we, the so-called daughters of the Republic, are still ruled by the hidden veil within us in this men’s world. I’m so angry….” She sputtered and I held her in my arms, rocking side to side a little to calm her down, thinking,
“Here we are, two spinsters forever.” What else? You either die an old maid so that you never give any man the satisfaction of seeing you as a prized piece of membrane, or you get rid of it somehow so that if it doesn’t belong to you, then it will belong to no one else either.”
― Days of Moonlight
“Here we are, two spinsters forever.” What else? You either die an old maid so that you never give any man the satisfaction of seeing you as a prized piece of membrane, or you get rid of it somehow so that if it doesn’t belong to you, then it will belong to no one else either.”
― Days of Moonlight
“Honey, freedom is improper. Some would have us commit suicide for not having a thick enough hymen, in the name of propriety. Remember? They would have us slit our wrists, not enjoy a single sexual act. What is freedom to you? Bleached sheets in a foreign city? Please….”
― Days of Moonlight
― Days of Moonlight
“Beyond the crust of the earth and its atmosphere is the unimaginable silence of perpetuity from which life spares us with its incessant chatter. When stars explode, who hears them?”
― Days of Moonlight
― Days of Moonlight
“He sat in the meadows amidst bright yellow buttercups and daydreamed of nebulous, sun-filled fantasies, his heart unable to contain the delightful sensation of freedom from Kyria Paraskevi’s monotonous dictations, the sight of the decrepit classroom and its chalky blackboard, and the smell of rancid farts embedded in seats with familiar signatures of garlic and lamb.”
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