Welcome, internet friends. I’m Yevgeniya, a writer interested in exploring life through different means, especially through traveling, reading poems/literature, and meeting people.

I was born in Tashkent, Uzbekistan when it was just barely out of the Soviet era. My childhood was spent in Queens, the largest borough of New York City and a uniquely diverse place to grow up. I’m a New Yorker at heart but I now call south Florida home.

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What’s this website? How’d I get here?

You may have landed here accidentally by a wrong turn in the space-time vortex. Or you found me on Instagram. Please let me know either way!

I started this blog in part to keep track of some of the moments in my life. Over the past several years I have: been a college student, got married, worked at a newspaper, traveled to new places, learned to cook, left my office to work in my living room. Among other things.

I’m a writer, a bibliophile, a “recovering” English major, a storyteller. I get excited about people. Learning another person’s story is . Creating my own, even more so. I thrive on finding a narrative in seemingly meaningless events.

You might see some of that here. OK, probably a lot. Get ready.

When I started blogging, the second day of the week was “Tranquil Tuesday.” I focused on short line from a book, poem or some other form of entertainment. It makes me happy and I hope it you’ll enjoy it as well.

What else? I love to know what’s going on in the world. I follow the news and read tons of articles. I’m always on the lookout for people who are creating something and changing the world.

I’m friendly. Send me a message, let’s have a discussion.

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What does ‘Volumes of Words’ mean?

It was inspired by some of my favorite lines, in of my favorite poems, “Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman. Though his publication and I are separated by more than 150 years, it’s something I read again and again.

My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach;
With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds, and volumes of worlds.

Speech is the twin of my vision—it is unequal to measure itself;
It provokes me forever;
It says sarcastically, Walt, you contain enough—why don’t you let it out, then?

A fitting reflection for a writer, isn’t it?

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