The She-Wolf, the Cinnamon Enigma, and Lots of Love!

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A Short Love Story in Free Flow

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Hello to My Lovely Writer, Readers, and Fellow Cold Survivors,

The good news? My cold has taken a turn for the better! It’s amazing what a day of indulgence can do — think sliced lemons with honey, a satisfying tuna salad, and, naturally, more cake than anyone should probably admit to eating. Add your delightful stories and a binge-watch of Beauties and Uglies on Netflix, and this cozy little sick day has been surprisingly bearable.

Now, onto some exciting news: our profile has hit 4.5K wonderful followers, and our publication has 0.46K supporters — thank you all for being part of this journey. We’ve got plenty of cozy winter fun ahead, with our upcoming Winter Contest. Consider this your official invitation to join us!

And if you’d rather not be tagged in future updates, just give us a wave, and we’ll take note. For now, settle in and enjoy this little story from my soon-to-be-released Book of Love and Gossip, originally published in Romanian in December 2021.

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The She-Wolf

In the living room mirror, a she-wolf gnaws on a cinnamon stick. She’s not exactly tall, but at least she reaches the level of knowledge accepted in her world and up to the belly of the jackal-headed god.

Which god do you mean? The one who fills her with life once a month and then, horrified by life, by ephemerality, puts her exactly in that position where any pregnancy splits in two, willingly, as if to multiply love, to make twins, triplets, quadruplets, to create cancer; yet, he continues to strike mercilessly until their eyes blend in his Horus omelet, and their frozen, intertwined reflections shatter into thousands of crystals — just like the borderline identities emerging from their post-coital dreams, from our shared dream.

That’s me, as for my boyfriend, I don’t know what else to write because I haven’t seen him in a while, he doesn’t have time, he’s busy with his business of selling hot water pumps, with his sales. Don’t ask me what those stains are, because I don’t know, and I don’t care. He calls me when he misses her, asks for snapshots with the little one, as if she were a dog and could understand something of his joy, of our mortification. Of course, she doesn’t understand, so I intoxicate her. I give her white chocolate, melted in wine.

The other day, I was with four Japanese women whom I wouldn’t want to describe to you,

neither front nor back. The first pulled my nose and kept complimenting me, she almost gave birth through me. The second one treated me with disdain. The third one, no.

The fourth, yes. Then we talked about love, about money, about music, and only at the end, about art. In short, I felt kind of bad between a misandrist and a misogynist. When I confessed to them what I truly am, they spat on me, then… they kissed me — they embraced me as if I were a chromosomal aberration.

Classical music and visual arts are the emblems of sophistication, I told myself. But let’s not forget the women who indulge in them, with a portion of littles with pesto. This adds refinement!

Recommendation: Go to Anubis. Buy wine. Boil it and drink it with white chocolate. After a few drinks, you’ll understand. The next day, she will return, forgetfulness… Take three in one. It is worth it.

Anubis Awaits | 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐄𝐠𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 & Echoes of an Ancient Palace

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Dear Medium Friends, Thank You for Being Part of My Journey 💖

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for following my profile and for your kind support. Being part of this community has transformed my writing and personal growth in ways I never expected. Please let me know if you do not want to be tagged in future posts. Also please follow our pub if you have not already.

So… join us — apply to become a writer with us!

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I’m thrilled about what’s in store for 2025!
With Love,
Julia 💖

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