An unusual transformation on the square, jumping to conclusions, the awkward experience of immigration, traffic accidents and why breakfast is so important: thirteen stories about human nature, all based on or connected with Barcelona. "CYAN and other stories" is the first story collection book by a Latvian-born Alina Cvetkova
Reading Alina Cvetkova is an exercise against serenity, the innocence and the conventional. Her writing is irreverent, direct and all this makes her words flow easily and connect with common realities, where the characters speak in the first or the third person, but in the end they are all the same. Without depending on the sex or age of the characters, Alina manages to pack her stories with as much passion as suffering, as much hope as insanity.
Alina’s writing career began in Latvia, where she wrote for print magazines, such as Veto, and also left a digital trace as a blogger; telling her version of the world in an etheric but sometimes very carnal way, she developed her own style.
“CYAN and other stories” is the first published book of Alina’s stories, telling a story of events one after another with an energy ready to run up a mountain, and then when you finally walk down you feel refreshment and sensitivity, surprised by the amount of controversial ideas you have discovered.
“Somehow, when these weird loneliness attacks happen, which surely have been classified by modern medicine, I remember a harbor in my childhood neighborhood in the early morning. Cranes supporting the clear skies, distant foghorns of the ships, seagulls squealing, and I distinctly understand that even if life turned three hundred and sixty degrees, swirled and danced me, I would still always have this harbor within, this desert-like space, burned inside my brain like an ancient stamp.” - extract from “CYAN. An almost autobiographical journey in three parts”.
Alina Cvetkova and the source of her inspiration are based in these desert-like spaces, which she fills with emotions, which in their turn materialise in the shape of traumatised characters, who teach you, who scare you but in the end are so familiar that you are left surprised.
“I feel at ease in Spain in comparison to Sweden. Downstairs from my apartment I have three key stores – a small market, a bakery and a grocery store. If I am short of a few cents, I am always forgiven. I stumble and fall when I speak Spanish. I try to be friendly but my grammar makes no sense, and the faster I speak, the more difficult it is to stop. I continue making mistakes and frown with frustration because I don’t like being taken for a foreigner. But I am. “¿Where are you from?”, I hear all over. The story of my life. I hate the sound of it; I am always taken for a foreigner everywhere, even back home.”
