Deea Romanesco
A walk to Santiago, told mostly in pictures — with a prose memoir in progress and a handful of short stories along the way.
I walked to Santiago and came home with 11,500 photographs.
The prose memoir is still being written. Until then, the walk unfolds here one stage at a time — curated, sequenced, and only occasionally honest. A photograph, a caption, the next bend in the road.
Stories and Fragments.
When the walking stops, the inventing carries on — only now it’s on purpose. A selection; the rest is in the full archive.
- 01 Happy Anniversary, Darling! Thirty-eight years, a train that never came back, and one more question left to ask. Featured · Read here →
- 02 Marcescence The leaves that die but will not fall. What in us does the same? Short story · Globular Echoes ↗
- 03 La Cucaracha Everything ends. Something in the kitchen did not get the message. Flash fiction · Globular Echoes ↗
Deea Romanesco
Born from the trunk of a Bukovinian birch, I now float on a maple leaf, scanning the horizon. Is this my name? Not quite. Not because I need to hide it, but because it doesn’t need to be known. Deea—the way I sang my name before my tongue clicked the consonants into place. Romanesco? It sprang from the soil where the roots first grew. A nod. A wink.
And fractals. Always fractals.
A prose memoir of the Camino is underway. These pictures are the long way of saying it’s coming.
No. 1