LarissaIvanova

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. — Anais Nin

"Voila! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most ver

For me, journalism is the voice that travels around the world, exposing with passion and commitment a reality that most of the time is painful. However, this reality is essential,  for it is the only one we have and we cannot choose another one. Journalists have always captivated me. These people are fighting to unveal the truth in situations where it is concealed on purpose; they risk their lives and the peace within their families to show to the world the real state of things in a present environment where no one can make the difference between fantasy and reality.