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Alexandra Maria Proca

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Alexandra Maria Proca’s books

Average rating: 4.33 · 24 ratings · 5 reviews · 6 distinct works

	One Morning I Looked in the Mirror 4.29 avg rating — 7 ratings — published 2011 — 3 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	The City of the Wild it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 5 ratings — published 2012 — 2 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	Waiting for Love 4.25 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	Mommy's Heart 4.33 avg rating — 3 ratings — published 2012	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	Baby Bopp the Rising Cop it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 2011 — 2 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	My Memories liked it 3.00 avg rating — 3 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars

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Quotes by Alexandra Maria Proca (?)

“The crude reality is that we are in a concentration camp: all kids, different ages, different sizes, and different skin colors. We are divided from the outside world by a big electric fence and united with each other by fear, hunger, and the hope to stay alive until the war ends and somebody will grant us freedom. “Joshy, it’s time for us to get inspected. The guards will check how big and strong we are,” I declare, with fake joy. I gaze down at my little brother, the only family I have left. His brown eyes are a deep chocolate swirl; his mouth is curved into a timid smile. His soiled blond hair is flowing around his face like a lion’s mane.”
― Alexandra Maria Proca, Waiting for Love

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“Darkness falls upon me again with the hourglass pouring its sand relentlessly. I am a rock, silent, cold, unmovable…a stone with no feelings, no thoughts, and no memories.”
― Alexandra Maria Proca, Waiting for Love

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“Bam!” the door screams in fear as the moving bed and the doctors run through. Blinding white lights stab my eyes mercilessly. I try to open my mouth. I scream, “Let me out! What’s going on? Why am I here?” but no one is listening. They don’t even hear me cry. I am kicking and yelling and pushing, but nothing’s happening. People stare at me, tears glistening on their faces. My eyes blink rapidly as I search the room for comfort. I stare at the faces I know. “Mother! Father! What’s happening? Why? Where am I?” “Help me! I am scared! I need to be rescued…from what?” I drift into an abyss that chains me forever. I am a rock. I”
― Alexandra Maria Proca, Waiting for Love

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