Penita scartaie pe o foaie de hartie…afara ploua cu furie si naduf, punctuata din cand in cand de un tunet. Tu transcrii cuvinte pe care nu le poti ticlui dar care vorbesc atat de bine despre tine.
Un fulger te distrage si uiti o cratima. Parca nu esti singur, furtuna iti vorbeste. De cand nu te-ai mai plimbat prin ploaie? De cand nu te-ai mai simtit liber? Greu de spus…Probabil niciodata.
Dai foaia si termini cuvantul. Pui punct si apoi te razgandesti, mai adaugi doua…
Trei puncte in suspensie…asa te simti atunci cand iti permiti.
Te ridici greoi si iti torni un pahar cu apa. Il bei cu lacomie si revii. Cauti o alta carte pe care ai citit-o, cu alte paragrafe subliniate si cu alte puncte de suspensie.
De ce le transcrii? De ce le cauti? Cuvintele iti par o mostenire pe care o poti lasa, o explicatie pe care nu esti obligat sa o dai.
Scrii cuvintele altora pentru ca pe ale tale nu le-ai potrivit inca.
Te uiti pe geam la ploaia ce nu se hotaraste in furie si apatie si o intelegi. E asa de obositor sa fii mereu revoltat…
Iesi afara si respiri. Pentru o clipa, esti liber…Dar clipa trece, tu intrii in casa, te asezi si reincepi sa asterni pe foaie si in suflet cuvintele altcuiva.
New shot! July 26, 2013 at 08:46AM
Just breathe…
Placeri simple – Those simple pleasures
“…the pleasures of food and drink, of lying naked in a hot bath, of scratching an itch, of sneezing and farting, of spending an extra hour in bed, of turning your face toward the sun on a mild afternoon in a late spring or early summer and feeling the warmth settle upon your skin.”
Excerpt from Paul Auster’s Winter Journal
Ce subiect mai bun intr-o zi ploioasa de vineri (sau insorita…daca sunteti norocosi) decat acele mici placeri ce nu ne costa decat putin timp si ne aduc placere in forma pura?
Mirosul de cafea dimineata, placerea de a te intinde (da…exact), un zambet ce vine din suflet, o floare de mac intre sinele de tren…
Care sunt placerile voastre simple?
Eu numai gandindu-ma la ele si am reusit sa zambesc asteptand urmatorul moment de gratie, scurt si extrem de placut.
§ For my English speaking readers
What a better subject on a rainy Friday (or not…if you are lucky) than those small pleasures that cost us only time (and not much) and bring us pure joy?
The smell of coffee in the morning, stretching with every fibre of your body in your (still) warm bed after a good night sleep, a genuine smile, a bright red flower between the train rails…
What are your simple pleasures?
Just thinking of those little moments made me smile and forget the rain and clouds that reign on this first day of summer.
Ces jours vides
Ces jours qui te semblent vides
Et perdus pour l’univers
Ont des racines avides
Qui travailles les déserts.
Paul Valéry – Palme
Stolen Childhoods
The eyes of all those children are so mature and sad…and we complain about so many small things all day and spend money researching which pill will allow us to eat more and not get fat or candy that will make our sweat smell nice….
Wonderful pictures…
Dostoyevsky’s White Nights
Autumn Dreams
@Common Creatives Licence
And so I ask myself: ‘Where are your dreams?’ And I shake my head and mutter: ‘How the years go by!’ And I ask myself again: ‘What have you done with those years? Where have you buried your best moments? Have you really lived? Look,’ I say to myself, ‘how cold it is becoming all over the world!’ And more years will pass and behind them will creep grim isolation. Tottering senility will come hobbling, leaning on a crutch, and behind these will come unrelieved boredom and despair. The world of fancies will fade, dreams will wilt and die and fall like autumn leaves from the trees. . . .
Si TU, ce colectionezi? / What’s YOUR collection made of?
Toata lumea colectioneaza sau a colectionat vreodata ceva! Reviste, diverse ambalaje – unele pentru concursuri idioate -, ceasuri (in stare de functionare sau nu) ,celulare, tatuaje, piercinguri, medalii, bani – vechi sau noi -, boli, flori, programe, afise, scrisori, amintiri, infractiuni…
[…] Oamenii fac colectii pentru a-si acoperi goliciunea.
§For my English readers
Everyone collects or has collected something! Magazines, different packages – some for stupid contests – clocks (in working condition or not), cellulars, tattoos, piercings, medals, money – old or new – diseases, flowers, programs, posters, letters, memories crimes. ..
[…] People make collections to cover their nakedness.
Julian Barnes’s The Sense Of An Ending
The Sense Of An Ending
@Common Creative Licence
Something to think about and maybe to get us to reconsider our own history:
What has Old Joe Hunt answered when I knowingly claimed that the history was the lies of the victors? ‘As long as you remember that it is also the self-delusions of the defeated.’ Do we remember that enough when it comes to our private lives?
What do you think? Is history made of the lies we tell us (knowingly or not)? Or our self-delusions? Or what is lost never to be remembered?
Truth beats fiction? Realitatea bate fictiunea?
Can you handle good fiction?
@Common Creative Licence
Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.” ~ Mark Twain
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