Anastasia Tsarkova
Bio
Anastasia Tsarkova is a writer born in St. Petersburg and based in France, working in both English and French. Her novels, essays, and short fiction explore the human psyche and consciousness, with a focus on art, cinema, and pop culture.
Stories (14)
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What to Read on the Twin Flame Journey
The concept of the Twin Flame is an intriguing one to observe, whether you feel your path truly aligns with it, or whether you stay skeptical about it. If you belong to the latter group and have doubts, let me remind you that, as per quantum physics enthusiasts, everything you can imagine holds the potential to exist and become real.
By Anastasia Tsarkova8 days ago in Psyche
On a Publisher’s Refusal
There was a day in my life, a kind of point of no return, when I lost everything: an apartment, a boyfriend, all my belongings, any clear vision of my future, and, icing on the cake, my bank account was in the red. By pure chance, a man I barely knew picked me up, and we set off on a road trip. We didn’t become a romantic couple by the end of the journey, as happens in movies: we just spent a month together, and then I was on my own again. That was when I decided to write about everything that had happened to me. Since I was no longer attached to anything in this world, my ability to write was the only thing still holding me up…
By Anastasia Tsarkova13 days ago in Critique
The Feminine Face and American Roots of Young Russian Literature
Toward the end of the 2010s, many new authors emerged on the Russian literary scene. It was the voices of writers in their thirties that made themselves heard most strongly. Born at the twilight of the Soviet Union, they had absorbed its painful legacy with their mother’s milk before their lives took an unexpected turn. Barbies, Transformers, Disney comics, action films on VHS, the PlayStation, and finally MTV, along with access to the endless stream of information on the Internet, entered their childhood with the fall of the Iron Curtain, overturning the rigid cultural system shaped by the Soviets.
By Anastasia Tsarkova14 days ago in Critique
Four
… After kissing Victoire goodbye and leaving her in the middle of the night street, Romain and I enter his building and climb up to the fourth floor. Incidentally, I live on the fourth floor too. So does Victoire. As it happens, most of my friends have ended up on this floor, without meaning to. Is there something magical about this even natural number? One, two, three, four.
By Anastasia Tsarkova16 days ago in Fiction
Another one
A soft melody flows from my turntable and fills the living room, bathed in amber light. Sitting on the couch, a glass of rum in hand, I slip into an almost meditative state. The sound, slightly rough in texture, like a fire crackling in the fireplace, carries me far away: beyond my daily worries, beyond the image of my mother that has haunted me for the past fifteen years.
By Anastasia Tsarkova21 days ago in Fiction
Light and Shadow
From early morning, the light hits the window and floods my small apartment by the Mediterranean Sea with pastel tones. I wake to the alarm’s cry and step out onto the balcony to smoke. I had promised myself to save the few cigarettes left from last night for the next boozy get-together with friends, but the sharp smell of smoke pairs far too well with the bitter taste of black coffee. So I sink into my Acapulco chair, light my cigarette, and welcome the new southern day, promising to bring plenty of sun and fun.
By Anastasia Tsarkova27 days ago in Confessions
Untitled
A dark shadow covers the silent, stone-hot city. My boyfriend just kicked me out in the middle of the night with all my belongings. I take a few steps down the urine-stinking street and collapse onto a bench. With nowhere to go, I still sit here, waiting.
By Anastasia Tsarkovaabout a month ago in Fiction
The Red Hatred
Sometimes I feel like I hate you. A kind of red magma forms inside me, in my chest, and rises to my throat. In that moment, I want to destroy. I want to grab a plate and smash it into pieces. I want to take scissors and shred that red, sexy underwear I bought to please you.
By Anastasia Tsarkovaabout a month ago in Fiction
Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a Cat
It’s 9 a.m., time for a morning snack: chia seeds with coconut milk, accompanied by a black lungo, in front of a terrific panorama of rolling countryside hills, caressed by the gentle, peach-colored light of the rising sun. And surely, with a good book in hand.
By Anastasia Tsarkovaabout a month ago in Critique
