“So you see, saving the world is an innocent matter,” Molly thought to herself. “Let’s leave it in the hands of the starving children.”


Raluca: a woman born in Romania, a writer residing in Las Vegas, but also a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a stranger. I am all these, and more. At times, I am the best I can be. Other times, I am not. But writing has empowered me to become everything I ever dreamed to be, in single shooting moments.

The surrounding world we inhabit is a stage, and I believe we should reenact as many roles as we can in the course of our lifetime, so that we gain intimate knowledge of ourselves. With multiple layers of our personalities peeled off, human drama moves from the realm of the theatrical to flesh-and-blood exposition.

I was often remembered in a gypsy-style blouse, a faded-red skirt, a pair of vintage boots on my feet, wearing my hair clips as a work of art, always holding on to that fountain pen and notebook purchased by a lost friend on the streets of London.

At times, I shed tears at the thought of how many ants my tiny feet have squashed through the years. How misunderstood we all are in our daily actions! But universal hope washes our collective guilt off. I believe in a lot of things. I believe in colors, in healing, in home, in children, in books, in cats, in the smooth and subtle power of a fountain pen on white paper. I believe in you, my dear reader and most intimate friend through this journey of Creation.

The whole universe nests in my heart. And in yours.

Raluca Comanelea


With a fountain pen by my side, I sketch recollections, scraps of fleeting life episodes which provoke tiny revelations. A story is that big! A deep world resting at the fingertips of the reader.


Literary Reviews

 Translations & Editing Work



Push, Woman!

A woman’s push is the supreme act of creation. Patriarchy has attempted since time immemorial to debilitate the fascinating power of this push which belongs entirely to the feminine realm.…

The Other

We live in a constant state of fear and pointing fingers while the regime lives its most intense orgasm of all times. We find ourselves in a state of constant…

A most graceful exit for Blanche

She is alive. They tried to bury her but she is alive. She doesn’t want to be buried. Not the way they want her to. Moon rays shoot through her window and she waits. She waits…

Everything Went Dark

I Then I Saw Her It is not the Darkness which brought me to the roadside sandwich joint, But my sense of humor. Maybe my future starts right now, said…

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