The Shadow of the Wind… Barcelona

June 10, 2017 at 1:39 pm (Uncategorized)

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“This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader’s hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner.”

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Ganduri de om mare, joaca de copil

December 23, 2016 at 6:53 pm (Jurnal)

Sunt plini peretii de multumiri, urari, zambete, cadouri, brazi… oameni care isi etaleaza fericirea pe retelele de socializare care mai de care mai cu spor ca un cozonac mandru crescut.

Iar ei ii vine sa fredoneze Jingle Bells si sa inghita in sec lacrimi ce-i stau in gat. Nu are vreun motiv clasificat de DEX ca fiind serios.

Doare ciuda ca nu poate avea ceea ce isi doreste. Simplu si copilaresc ca o pustoaica asezata turceste, care trage cu ochiul la cadoul impachetat frumos sub brad si spera ca e un ponei… viu! Cam pe acolo este si ea.

Colac peste pupaza si-a amintit asa, de nicaieri, ca vine al 4lea Craciun fara tine. Si nu-i vine sa creada… 4 Craciunuri par o vesnicie. Parca mai ieri te-a pierdut. Si se gandeste ce ai crede acum daca ai vedea-o, scriind litere incetosate. Ai zice ca este o naroada da. Dar oare te-ai cruci? Te-ai mira? Ai fi dezamagit de ea si de ce a reusit sa faca si sa desfaca in sufletul si in mintea ei de cand nu mai esti? Ai vedea in ea acea alta persoana pe care ea si altii o vad, nu o cunosc si nu o inteleg uneori, care frustreaza si enerveaza cu incapatanarea de a nu face nimic? Ai mai fi oare mandru de ea?

Nu cred ca ai sti pentru ca nu ti-ar povesti. Dar ai vedea ca s-a schimbat. Ai rade tare, zgomotos si sacadat si ai intreba-o cand se marita, stiind foarte bine ca nu o va face, probabil, vreodata. Ati bea un ness sau o bere in bucatarie si ea ar fuma o tigara cu tine, din pachetul pe care tu i l-ai cumparat. Si s-ar simti bine.

Ii este atat de dor de tine si de ea atunci cand erai tu in viata ei.

Si acum esti, dar e atat de greu uneori sa se multumeasca cu o imagine, un gand, o vorba si o amintire, un zambet si un oftat din toti rarunchii.

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The Blue Night

December 18, 2016 at 11:30 am (Englezesti..., Jurnal)

Once in a while blue eyes see a falling star and wish for a change.

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The wish is more exact to be specific but, let’s face it, details don’t matter since all imply a change of some sort. This is when The Blue Night happens, while blue eyes fall asleep and dream. If only they were awake they would see and understand, but Blue Nights reveal themselves only to those making the wish, and they are the ones compelled most to fall into a deep sleep exactly at that moment, the most sleepy people of all in this big wonderful world.

The waves take over the universe, washing away everything we know and trust to be real. Every star turns into a sun, burning with so much heat and a blinding desire to catch the moon, trying to impress her, to convince her that only they can make her shine, can make her warm and bring light into the darkness the moon surrounds herself with, like a protective, comfortable and familiar blanket. The waves wash over the moon, each bringing closer one sun at a time and taking it away, caressing the bright moon, making her shiver and feel like the queen of the night. This astronomic phenomenon affects every part of the moon’s universe.

The trees, surrounding the paths she takes on long night walks across endless memory lanes, reach higher, turn darker, trembling, waving in a concert of leaves, the music so sweet and charming. The moon gets lost in sounds, a concert of smiles, of tears, of longing or of anger, naming the road the trees are guarding.

Each road takes the moon on a hill, going high a steep lane or fast down the other side, like a roller-coaster. The hills turn blue, believe themselves to be waves, moving with fury towards the future, events the moon cannot foresee, into a darkness she will light in hopes of revealing things to come just before they happen, if she is lucky.

Each dear one the moon shines light on their nights lives in a tiny house the moon can visit, rushing away shades and turning the spotlight on. Some houses are always lit, others are surrounded by darkness, depending if the owner’s role in the moon’s life at that stage is important or not. The moon has many houses, some cozy and warm with soft beds and clean sheets, fire cackling in the fireplace. Then you have cold steel houses the moon rushes through, not necessarily friendly or hostile but helping build a foundation for a life of wishes. There are houses always in the dark, where the light will never come on again, but they can be lit up by the moon from time to time, washed over with sweet thoughts of memories from when they welcomed and hugged the moon through open windows and wide doors, making her feel loved and cherished.  These are some of the most precious houses the moon has, they helped her become who she is and always come in a pair of two.

And then there is the church. Always unique, it can take shapes and light up, appearing different to the moon as time goes on, hiding behind clouds, religiously drawing her close and pushing her away, singing songs of Gods and Angels, of Devils making promises not always kept. It is the church of the moon’s heart and it can make her crumble and fall apart or ride the crazy waves of feelings, washing away reason and logic, drowning her in a sea of madness. If only she can learn to swim.

Blue Night is always magical and magic is always true, but blue eyes sleep and cannot see their moon as she truly is. This is when the right sun catches up with the moon turning her into a star, showing her the right houses to keep in her village, the greenest trees, the sweetest paths, the hills worth climbing and the church meant to turn her into a true believer.

If blue eyes are truly lucky they can sometimes catch glimpses of The Blue Night in their dream, wake up in bland full day light and know that change and wishes are just stories for children and growing up means turning fairy tales books into journals of reality, written in black and white and greys.

Stop and make room for blue please, the wind will turn to waves and blow through pages like a storm rushing in a magical trip until you reach The End.

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Birthday Thoughts

September 25, 2016 at 8:53 am (Englezesti...)

  1. Does it matter how many people think of you on your birthday and wish you all the best? Or does the person and their exact thoughts matter more than the minute spent by most writing you a hasty “La multi ani!”?14463184_10154495417822510_5344258701254533265_n
  2. What should you do when what you get is less than what you wish for? Should you settle, smile and say “that’s ok”? Or should you say “fuck it”?
  3. I have a friend who made me smile with “London, baby!” thoughts and a magical invitation that still stands even if I, more or less, let it drift away from my “to do” list of things I never do. I will go.
  4. I have another dear friend who encourages me to write now and again and reminded me of this while wishing me the classics and saying my writing has a unique way of relating to men’s train of thoughts too.
  5. How cool is it when your birthday is followed by an earthquake?
  6. I arrived home with my tiny, classy, beautiful, personalized flower pot arrangement my best friend made for me, placed it on the table smiling and my eyes went to the flowers from last year, beautifully dried in their cute watering can. It reminded me of how much my soul changed in one year and made me hope it will change again just as much in this year to come until the next September.
  7. Do you know how it is to get a birthday hug so tight and close that it touches your soul, makes you warm and feel so completely loved?
  8. It’s that day of the year when, if you really think about it, it is just you, regardless of the number of people around you, closer or farther away, of wishes and gifts… all that can change in a blink of an eye from one year to another, but you will still be there to celebrate your birthday, alone or not.
  9. Your birthday is a gift to those people who got to know you in the past year and for whom you’ve changed a date in the calendar to mean something more, maybe for a short time, maybe forever.
  10. It’s the day when you get cake, blow candles and make a wish you know it’s not gonna come true.
  11. It’s the day when those who care take a moment to cherish your presence in their life and feel lucky.
  12. It’s the day when your mom feels proud, the day when you changed her life forever and you don’t even remember it, the most important one of all, the day when you were actually born. How cool would it be to go back in time and be a silent witness of the first 24 hours you breathed in this world?
  13. I realized I can count on the fingers from one hand the people I truly, honestly, deeply, uncontrollably care about from the bottom of my heart, people who can crush me in pain, willingly or not, if they did something wrong or something happened to them.
  14. Am I lucky? Am I blessed? Does it matter?
  15. It’s 24 hours that pass faster than any others.
  16. It’s the day when I got vouchers for things I can do whenever I want and my friends will be there to do as I say, when I say and I’m thinking… how many of you who wished me happy birthday would have the desire and the courage to give me a blank “I will make your wish come true if I can” voucher?
  17. It’s the day when I had 3 and 5 on my birthday cake and I wished I could get a glimpse of the day when I will blow the candles reversed, 5 and 3 together.
  18. It’s the birthday when my ID expired, 10 years had passed, the start date for a new Identity Card photo to accompany me for another 10 and another moment when I thought of how much I miss my father, when I wrote down his name on forms at the Police station.
  19. I had a strong Mojito and a wasabi hot dog.
  20. I thought of how, starting 2013, I look back on myself on my birthdays and find that I am very different each year, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. Is there a moment in time when adulthood and life’s shitty jokes kick in and we start fooling ourselves that we are changing?
  21. I smiled a lot.
  22. I had people actually making a fool of themselves and singing me Happy Birthday. Nobody can be taken musically serious when singing that awful high note “La Multi ani!” song, right? It’s the effort that melts your heart though.
  23. I got 47 birthday wishes.

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When the Love Letter is just a compliment…

May 21, 2016 at 8:11 am (Englezesti...)

13281714_10154144325057510_1587382998_n… the feeling is not shared. Nevertheless, a love letter is one of the greatest compliments you can receive. We should all be so lucky as to write one (on paper, try it!) and receive one:

“Dearest O,

Don’t know what happened to my heart, it was just here before, now it’s gone. I am in love with you, whether you deny it or not. I stood there for a while and you didn’t look back at me… when my heart wanted to stop you, by that time you were gone. I don’t know what kind of magic did the heart play, I think this is love. Oh! Time please stop, wait and tick backwards, cause I left myself somewhere else.

Your eyes are magic, your lips are roses, your hair is silk. I can’t concentrate in anything, whenever I want to do something I see only your face. You deny or what I love you.

Love is a gift given by the God without measure or price tag. Power is in believing, so give yourself a chance, cause you can climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest sea. All you want is the will to want it and a little esteem, so please keep the faith.

If you feel your dreams collapsing, your hopes getting lost. If the one you trusted betrayed you. Don’t get depressed. The winner is not the one who wins the battle, but the one who hides the pain behind a smile and moves on. Love is the answer that everyone seeks, love is the language that every heart speaks.

I love you, M”

 

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In a manner of speakig

March 13, 2016 at 7:26 pm (Englezesti...)

Americans are the worst and they keep spreading it all around the world: their stupid lies and indoctrination about democracy, freedom, making choices, living free, going your way or the highway and how love conquers all. And we all fall for either one of the above at one time in our lives; we bruise, forget and do it all over again.

Come voting we’ve all had that moment when we blindly felt like our vote can change something: our perception of life, that our intelligent selves will finally be heard, that we will no longer be run by the stupid. All that crap about making a difference, no matter how small, having your voice heard and then shouting it all over Facebook and getting into arguments on differences of opinion like we have all mastered the school of life at the least. We’re European for fuck’s sake. We should all remember that more often.

Talk freedom: we are all free to do what is expected of us, that’s for sure. It’s not like you can suddenly quit your corporate job, open a bakery, be successful, a role model, travel the world, meet, learn and teach others; Although we might end up embracing this teaching trend too, since the Americans have made a career out of motivational speaking and aren’t we the best at motivating others? You know, to help with all that crap in your life you can’t actually change, that you bring onto yourself and invite others to do as well, the best they can.

Making choices: it’s all about them, like you can just bake them perfectly, you just need to get the recipe and become MasterChef. The funniest one of all is when you choose not to make any and let it all happen, then you get the rage of those around you hurrying with advice like they are all dr. Phil and Oprah combined, laying it all out on the table for you: what you should do, how, when, why, what the outcome will be, how it’s not so bad – that’s one of my favourite arguments! The easiest thing anyone can do is tell others how to live their lives and it is simply delicious how everybody does it because they care. Hey, bind me with all the stripes on the American flag, knock me down and make me shoot for the stars too!

Living free: oh yes, we are all so free I might just take a break from writing, go to the airport buy a ticket to somewhere and come back whenever I feel like it, if that. And not tell anybody. How many of you have done that? We are all so experienced at living free that we are kidding ourselves daily that resigning to be moulded into the social expectations is actually a choice and not a suffocating feeling of just passing in line on the conveyer belt like everyone else, like luggage, but missing that oh so desired tag assuring you will get to the destination of your heart’s desire. It is funny even more, since most of us only kid ourselves that we know what we want and we are free to make it happen, we mostly let things happen to us and settle. All of us settle.

Going our way or the highway: right now that highway is pretty crowded since most of us don’t get to do it our way; But hey, the horizon looks pretty nice and the road seems to be endless, if you lie to yourself pretty enough. Heard about compromise? That’s between my way and the highway, it’s not the road less travelled, it’s actually the bumpy one, where speed is not an option, traffic is tight and we all stand in line swearing like crazy and honking madly at those not giving us priority!

How love conquers all: that is the most hilarious one of all and we have Hollywood to thank for that too. Honesty, saying how you feel, shouting it to the world, conquering all barriers of time, age, race, statute, geography, language, religion, you name it, shooting for the stars and landing in a pool of love with your heart’s desire. Right! We are not honest, we lie to ourselves and to others, play games, suffer, get mad, get over it, try again, settle again, get comfortable, try to see the bright side of the one who sits next to us, count ourselves lucky that we are not alone, swear off love at first sight and butterflies in our stomach because we are afraid of things we cannot control.

This was quite a rant, but hey, how can you not reach the highest levels of hypocrisy when your thoughts are better expressed in English and flow right out of you like the fucking fountain of knowledge and it would take you like forever to turn them into Romanian words?!

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On minding your own affairs

December 16, 2015 at 6:33 pm (Englezesti...)

Input:

“…when we say “infidelity,” what exactly do we mean? Is it a hook-up, a love story, paid sex, a chat room, a massage with a happy ending?

An affair — it brings together the three key elements: a secretive relationship, which is the core structure of an affair; an emotional connection to one degree or another; and a sexual alchemy. And alchemy is the key word here, because the erotic frisson is such that the kiss that you only imagine giving, can be as powerful and as enchanting as hours of actual lovemaking.

As Marcel Proust said, it’s our imagination that is responsible for love, not the other person.

Affairs are an act of betrayal, and they are also an expression of longing and loss. At the heart of an affair, you will often find a longing and a yearning for an emotional connection, for novelty, for freedom, for autonomy, for sexual intensity, a wish to recapture lost parts of ourselves or an attempt to bring back vitality in the face of loss and tragedy. Affairs are way less about sex, and a lot more about desire: desire for attention, desire to feel special, desire to feel important. And the very structure of an affair, the fact that you can never have your lover, keeps you wanting. That in itself is a desire machine, because the incompleteness, the ambiguity, keeps you wanting that which you can’t have.”

Output:

Affairs are “in love” stories – it is a feeling I am terrified of, since it completely shuts down all sense of reason and logic, blinds you, often fools you to fool yourself that you know what you are doing and that your train of thoughts is actually based on solid arguments.

The secrecy of an affair is not at all alluring, but it is an ingredient that keeps you wanting and coming for more. Emotions run wild and you often confuse wild with deep, when the best thing would be to pray that you hurry up and get over it before it damages you too much.

The sexual alchemy of an affair is the most amazing and maddening 1959213_779988515401317_4486431200566390908_nexperience you can have and from this angle of approach alone, each and every one of us should go through it. It’s of an intensity for which there are no words to describe it: think of dizziness, butterflies in your stomach, running out of breath, seeing actual stars when kissing, tumbling down a high speed spiral when touching… ALL of these at the same time!

And when all of the above are over and distance keeps you apart, memories serve to boost imagination and experience a yearning that is yet again expressed physically: you can actually feel heat waves merely by the power of thought and a few well-placed words. Such a powerful, simple trigger.

In an affair imagination is responsible for falling in love with the feelings you experience, triggered by the other person, not with that person necessarily. If after all of the above you still are able to retain a shred of objectivity, you can see all those traits you actually don’t like in the one you so desire. The downside is that most of the times you don’t actually care.

An affair is so selfishly about you and you alone that the two can actually be synonyms.

An affair isn’t justified by excuses, but it has a solid background that should never be ignored: it is the effect of your own searches, discoveries, needs, frustrations, changes that you go through or should go through and it is so much more about you and how you are denying yourself, than about the person you are cheating on.

An affair is always a loss: you lose the old you, you lose your place in an old relationship, you lose a fantasy eventually.

But it is also a gain.

Life is yours.

People are selfish.

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I’ll be there for you: changes in latitude & attitude

November 28, 2015 at 3:30 pm (Englezesti...)

Let’s talk about friends, baby! Let’s talk about you and me!

There have been a number of “you” in my life playing the Friend role, not many though. More have left the stage than the few who are still present. And that is perfectly fine, since the spotlight of my life does not do wonders on the skin of many.

But how do we lose friends and why?

In my mind, the circumstances and reasons why people become friends have an important role.

Some friendships come with an expiration date from the start.

I’ve been friends with this girl for a couple of years due to the fact that she was the only one who I could connect with intellectually on a similar level at my place of work back then. It was fun and relaxing, we shared a common path in our life choices at that point in time, clothes, secrets, talked about men, went out and had a blast. I introduced her to my old friends and she didn’t make an impression. I didn’t care. I didn’t care enough to make that friendship work after I had changed work and didn’t see her every day anymore; she continued talking to me about the same personal events that I had shown interest in the past, but I was no longer willing to listen. The time had passed. I told her she was selfish and self-centred and that I no longer wanted to hear all day everyday about things that had nothing to do with me or our friendship. That was the last time we exchanged words. I felt no sense of loss, only relief, in my own selfish and self-centred attitude. Bygones!

Then there are opposite sex friendships, which for me, are built on 2 elementary pillars: sharing a sense of humour and having great conversations. This kind of friendship is like a shot of tequila. The interaction is short, but the effects can last a long time, even if connection is absent more often than not and therefore is as reliable on frequency as weather predictions are exact. Humour and connection of the minds forge an affection for such a friend that can make you smile and welcome him back in your life whenever, because it is easy, there are no strings attached, no expectations, just a reunion with a person you value for the way he is, who can make you smile each time and for whom you have only the best wishes in the world, being content to be on the side-lines of each other’s worlds and only pass through the spotlight now and again.

There are hard core friendships you lose. Those that have been built on decades of life, on which you thought you could count no matter what, friends who helped shape the person you are now. Here is the trick: you can grow up with an old friend and at some point start to grow apart. The adults you become are no longer the children you used to be. Different mentalities, different expectations from the same friendship, different views on life and different experiences slowly form cracks in the foundation of a friendship you took for granted and, at some point, make it collapse. That is when you ask yourself if you want to rebuild it, because you know you can never have back what was, only to start again, for old times’ sake and see if you like each other as grown-ups. I chose not to do that. I chose to let such an old friendship end because I could not count on it when I needed it most, when the cold hard spotlight was unfortunately on me alone and previous disagreements between us were so trivial and childish by comparison. These disagreements should not have counted at a moment in my life which was the most difficult and devastating I was ever forced to experience until now. That moment changed me and made me decide there are very few people in this world who are worth giving a fuck for and giving a cry for. I was never sorry to have let that friendship go.

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Last but not least, there are friendships that are put to the distance test, friends who are not physically close to you anymore, the relationship transforming and requiring more effort. Sometimes you put in the effort or you simply let go. I’ll get back to you on that outcome, since this is a work in progress.

Never be sorry for the “friends” you lose. It’s like a relationship you no longer fit into. If you have regrets, it means that there are still things that matter and then you should try and sort it out. I have no regrets, only grateful feelings for the amazing persons who are still in my life, here for me and I for them.

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IV

June 9, 2014 at 8:57 am (Amintiri din Amiral Balescu, la parter)

Deplasari. Cand era mici aveam multe drumuri lungi, pline de peripetii, pentru ca atunci distantele nu se masurau in timp sau multi kilometri, ci in pasi de copil cu emotia unei aventuri.

Uneori calatoria se oprea in blocul de vizavi, atunci cand reuseam sa ne convingem bunicii sa ne lase sa dormim una la alta. Planul era mereu bine dezbatut inca de dimineata, cand ne puneam cap la cap ideile si nascoceam motive serioase, de viata si de moarte, de nerefuzat pentru oamenii mari care ne planificau timpul; justificam aceste nopti petrecute plecate de acasa prin discutiile interminabile ce se cereau a avea loc si pentru care nu aveam timp cat soarele era pe cer. Pentru a asigura reusita, una dintre noi promitea cu cerul si pamantul ca va fi cuminte si nu va iesi din cuvantul bunicilor o viata-ntreaga, in timp ce cealalta se invartea in cerc in scara blocului prietenei repetand cu constiinciozitate “Doamne ajuta s-o lase! Doamne ajuta s-o lase!”. Si atunci ca si acum, rugamintea nu era neaparat adresata unei divinitati in care am fi fost educate sa credem, ci mai degraba hazardului, usor impresionabil de acest ritual insotit de pumni stransi si ochi inchisi.

Alteori mergem la film. Deseori mergeam la film; ne socoteam avutiile si ne urcam in autobuzul care ne ducea departe – departe de strada noastra, tocmai pana in Piata Romana, acolo unde oamenii mari erau actorii vietii agitate de adulti. Ne cufundam in scaune prea mari pentru noi, la Patria, Scala sau Studio si ne lasam impresionate de actori aflati la inceput de celebritate. Aveam preferati si ni-i alegeam cu grija, oferindu-le onoarea de a fi vedetele posterelor de pe pereti: mie imi placea Johnny Depp, prietenei mele Tom Cruise. Alegerea fiecareia dintre noi era desigur validata de catre cealalta, aprobarea fiind vitala.

Iarna mergeam la patinoar. La doar cateva strazi distanta, pentru noi era ca si cum am fi trecut multe granite. Ne invarteam in cerc cu ochii dupa baietii care ne placeau si care, nu aveam vreo indoiala, ne impartaseau sentimentele, chiar daca pareau sa nu stie cine suntem. Stiam inca de pe atunci ca aparentele inseala si inca nu ne indoiam vreo clipa de importanta noastra in ochii celorlalti. Le dadeam dedicatii si ne bucuram de fiecare ciocnire intamplatoare pe ring, despicand la nesfarsit firul semnificatiilor.

Cand se incalzea afara ne duceam si ne cumparam vata pe bat. Drumul in sine, o noua aventura dincolo de Amiral Balescu, era de fapt actorul principal, odata cu pasii desfasurandu-se o alta lume de pe o alta strada, fara blocuri, dar cu case vechi, unde neaparat traiau oameni batrani, in camere intunecate, cu poduri prafuite, pline de stafii. Sau cel putin asa credeam eu. Pentru mine atunci o alta strada era o alta civilizatie, o alta lume cu alte reguli.

Vara mergeam uneori sa inotam in lac la Bordei. Simteam caldura soarelui arazandu-ne umerii pe tot parcursul drumului, parca niciodata nefiind mai cald ca in zilele in care ne balaceam. Coboram in pas saltat aleea ce ducea catre insulita separata de “continent” printr-un podet. Ne croiam drum pe alei batatorite, printre tufisuri salbaticite pana la locul bine stiut, unde un petic de iarba pe marginea lacului servea drept strand. Ne scaldam fara griji, neacordand nici o importanta pielii inrosite de soare, matasii broastei de la marginea apei sau muschiului alunecos sub talpi de pe fundul apei.

Acum ma bucur ca pot calatori in timp, catre acele momente ale unei copilarii perfecte.

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Dragele mele cuvinte goale…

June 8, 2014 at 3:56 pm (Uncategorized)

Cei care ma cunosc, intrebati la ce ma pricep eu cel mai bine, ar spune probabil ca la scris. Da, pot si rareori chiar o fac, cu toate ca imi face placere. Pentru mine, un scriitor trebuie sa aiba nu doar talent, ci si chemare si constanta, sa fie pregatit sa scrie prost sau sa vrea sa o faca si sa nu-i iasa. Duc dorul teoretic (experienta practica nu am avut-o niciodata) masinii de scris – martor sonor al eforturilor scriitoricesti – pac, pac, pac, pac, pac, crrrrrr… clanc! Punct si de la capat. Incercam iar, umplem cosul de hartii cu ganduri si idei nereusite ghemotocite. Adevarul este ca eu nu incerc. Mi-e dor sa scriu, dar nu o fac. Blocajul scriitoricesc la mine se manifesta intr-o lene cronica, o comoditate care ma apara de posibilitatea de a nu reusi sa pun in cuvinte ganduri, idei, povesti. As vrea sa scriu o carte. O am scrisa de fapt de cand aveam 10-12 ani, efort constant de a nota ganduri, peripetii si sentimente pe parcursul a unui deceniu si ceva. Am un blog, creat pe vremea in care nu era inca o banalitate, atunci cand nu toata lumea avea pretentii si talente de mari autori. Nu l-am mai folosit de ani. Putin stiu sa scrie. Foarte putini. Mi-ar placea si mie sa ma pot considera de-a lor, n-am insa anduranta si vechimea. Am modestie insa! 🙂 N-am mai scris nimic de vreun an si ceva. De fapt nici acum nu pot spune ca scriu ceva, ma joc doar cu cuvintele. Imi fac curaj sa incerc, poate reusesc sa-mi mai doresc si maine, chiar daca scriu despre nimic. Nimicurile sunt cele mai interesante in viata. Trebuie doar sa ai rabdare si sa stii sa asculti, sa stii sa-ti imaginezi.

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