WELCOME TO BENEATH THE WHITE

 

I unscrewed the cap. A new Waterman with a gold-coloured nib, finally filled with ink. On the white page beneath the original sentence, I wrote:

Beneath the White. In the same handwriting.

The gentle sound of metal gliding over paper changed the silence. The golden nib left a dark-blue trail behind it, slowly seeping into the fibres. It wrote the first words of this text. An invitation to write out of passion. Into the intimacy of what remains beneath the surface. Yes. Beneath the white, we remain fully exposed.

Publication on Substack

A more personal space for connecting with readers

and writing that emerges between essays. 

Receive new essays directly in your inbox

Essays

Beneath the White opening essay
Beneath the White

I once owned a bookshop. A small space on the ground floor of my parents’ town house, entered through a shoe shop. Bespoke solid-wood shelves majestically lined three of the four walls, from the ceiling down to the dark carpet, which occasionally left customers slightly perplexed.

Read More
17
Aug
banner Nicolette Shirley
Real when she writes 

Is everything finally perfect enough for me to write the ending of Ladybirds and Unicorns? I have just opened my notebook, the one with handmade paper, tiny flowers pressed between its pages. Their scent mingled this time with the jasmine flowering close beside my armchair on the terrace. I took a sip of warm cocoa.

Read More
02
Aug
amber light
Beneath the Amber Light

I caught myself listening once again to my own article, recorded in my own voice. An article that was meant to be a kind of confession to myself. Or not only to myself? In any case, the moment it transferred from my head to paper, it changed its character. Were I to wrap this fact in a perfect excuse, I would name as the culprit that large amber bulb above my armchair.

Read More
05
Jul

Where the world ends and the soul begins

Where the world ends and the soul begins