despre gradina ... II

despre gradina... I

despre moarte...

Ciudat cum nu simt caldura unui august parjolit. Nu imi pot dezlipi privirea de corpul inert cazut pe asfaltul moale si lipicios. Hipnotizata de femeie, raman in multimea care incepe sa se micsoreze cu trecerea fiecarui minut. As vrea sa fac ceva util, dar apropierea mea de ea si a celorlalte femei ma face sa cred ca ii consum si putinul aer pe care incearca cu ultimele puteri sa il inspire. Ar trebui sa ma intorc la birou. Trebuie sa vad ce se mai aude cu salvarea. A trecut ceva timp de cand am sunat si e singurul lucru folositor pe care pot sa-l faca in momentul asta. Sentimentul de inutilitate ma obsedeaza. Parca nu asta era reactia pe care mi-o imaginam intr-un o criza de viata si de moarte. Acele buze vinete si reci continua sa imi farmece privirea. Simt cum se misca usor, aproape neinteles. Ori poate e doar imaginatia mea, dorinta mea, sa o vad cum respira, traieste. Am ramas doar doua persoane. Agitatia orasului se scurge in jurul nostru, oamenii s-au resemnat in fata caldurii, a mortii. Vad moartea cum imi zambeste de peste drum. Imi face semn ca traverseaza si ar trebui sa plec, sa nu ma simt in plus, sa nu vad ceea ce urmeaza sa patesc si eu cine stie cand. Poate ar trebui sa plec, dar buzele vinete ale femeii continua sa ma tina acolo. De mult nu mai deschide ochii. As vrea sa vad doar un mic semn din partea ei, o miscare subtila din corp, o clipire fina din gene, ca o mica victorie in fata celei care se apropie, sa ii zambesc prapaditei si s-o trimit la plimbare. Sunt simple vise, doar simple vise. E deja langa mine. Am ramas singura privind femeia, privind cum viata se zbate in ea pentru ultima data. Prin mintea mea alearga mii de ganduri cu viteza luminii. I-as face respiratie gura la gura, dar imi e frica. Nu stiu de ce imi e frica. Poate pentru ca nu am facut niciodata , ceea ce am vazut in filme de zeci de ori, si as putea sa ii fac mai mult rau decat bine. Frica de moarte? Simt ca moartea e doar un nemilos microb, transmis pe calea aerului. Imi e frica ca as putea sa ma infectez ajutand-o. Si stau acolo, privind neputincioasa cum moartea ii zambeste , imi zambaste si isi incepe ceremonialul. Caut cu o ultima zvacnire un sunet, un semn, ceva care s-o alunge pe ea. Totul e in miscare in jurul meu, oameni, masini, .... dar pentru minte totul s-a oprit in loc. Ma cutremur cand frigul ma cuprinde. Sunt 36 de grade afara dar in lautrul meu sunt – 20. Apoi un gest. Femeia s-a miscat. A deschis ochii si m-a privit. Pentru o secunda am privit-o in ochii ei reci si goi, apoi privirea mi-a alunecat iar pe buze. Aceleasi buze reci, vinete si nemiscate. Cu o ultima zvacnire am vazut finalul. Al femeii intinse pe trotuar, al meu privind-o pe ea. Totul a fost prea repede. Inutila. Neajutorata.Rece. Imobila. Ar trebui sa plec, dar ceva ma opreste. Simt o putere care ma tine legata de femeie. Imi e frica sa o las singura. Frica de Dumnezeu. Macar sa stau cu ea daca tot nu am facut altceva. Revad in minte momentul sfarsitului, calm, neinteles, o tresarire, o clipire stinsa de pleoape. O femeie se intoarce. Stie. Plec. Ma intorc la birou, ca un drogat, ametita de moarte, vlaguita de moarte, asteptand sunetul salvarii. Anunt moartea ei. Banal.Fara sentiment. Oricum mintea mea e goala. O vad doar pe ea, clipind, parca cerand iertare sau poate ajutor...nu stiu. Caut raspunsuri, imi pun intrebari, caut ceva si nu gasesc. Aud salvarea. Au trecut 30 de minute de cand am sunat. Ma intorc la femeie fascinata, atrasa de un magnet, cu speranta ca totul a fost in imaginatia mea si ca ea traieste, e salvata. S-au adunat mai multe persoane. Toti tipa la doctorul de pe ambulanta. Priveste corpul.“E moarta. Noi nu suntem dric. O lasam aici si vin cei de la morga sa o ridice”. Cuvintele ma lovesc in timpane ca niste ciocane. Salvarea pleaca. Lumea se risipeste. Incet, incet totul se intoarce la normal. Ea e tot acolo, singura. Lumanarea adusa de o femeie, arde in continuare, gratios, plina de viata. M-am vazut pe mine, jos intinsa pe caldaram, sora-mea, mama. Trist. Imi iau la revedere in gand de la ea. As zice o rugaciune, dar nu stiu daca trebuie sau daca e bine. Nu mai stiu nimic. E singurul lucru care imi vine in gand, si ma obsedeaza acum. “Dumnezeu sa o odihneasca”. Nici nu stiu cum o cheama, dar pentru cateva minute, mi-a fost foarte apropiata. Sunt inca drogata, inca intr-o stare de betie mortuara. A mai murit un om, a mai trecut o zi.

despre melci.....

despre goliciune....

despre metrou....

Cand m-am urcat in metrou, am vrut sa nu opreasca in nici o statie, sa ma duca departe de tine, o holograma deformata a ceea ce sedentarismul meu sentimental a zamislit in dorinta lui de a alerga dupa un idol masculin, sa imi redea pofta de viata si sa ma amagesc ca am gasit paradisul pierdut asa cum am facut-o cand ne-am vazut prima oara, sa uit ca mi-am ars sufletul din dorinta de a iubi, sa ma mint ca mi-ai luat pamantul de sub picioare si linistea sufletului atunci cand mi-ai hartuit gandurile, sa ma mint ca nu am pierdut inca dragostea ta dezinteresata, sa uit de lacrimile care curg pe obraji fara sa le simt si fara sa ma curete de mizeria, umilinta, rautatea si dezamagirea care imi curg prin vene, sa ma pierd in etern asteptand ca durerea din maruntaiele mele sa se ridice si sa strige la tine, sa te calce in picioare asa cum m-ai calcat si tu in picioare si sa ma trezeasca din visul aburd in care tu esti centrul lumii mele, intruchiparea viselor, libertatilor, simtirilor si dorintelor si in fata caruia sufletul meu dezgolit a murit asteptand sa-ti scoti masca puerila de erou anonim, sa ma salveze de eternitatea abjecta care imi bantuie sufletul, acum, cand ti-am descoperit adevarata fata ascunsa atat de bine de privirea orbului din mine, si sa ma duca acolo unde nu poti sa imi mai faci rau cu sufletul tau inert si cu vorbele tale goale si reci....
Si apoi, cand totul ce tine de tine e departe, metroul sa ma duca acasa, unde totul e despre noi...

despre depresie.....

M-am intors din Praga in depresie.
Am mirosit frumusete, am respirat frumusete, am trait frumusete.

Toate simturile mele artistice s-au trezit la viata. M-am vazut un biet artist in cautarea muzei si a operei perfecte. M-am simtit libera , artista, inocenta, copila..... apoi am luat avionul si m-am intors la realitate........

inca mai simt privirea ta rece si goala...........

Letter from Prague

"Prague never seems to let go of you...... this little mother has claws. We ought to set fire to it at both ends, on Vysehrad and Hradcany, and maybe then it might be possible to escape" Letter to Oskar Polak from Franz Kafka (1902)

My Paradise and my home - Bucovina

They say good things come in small packages. Romania, the largest country in southeastern Europe, has its unique culture, which is the product of its geography and of its distinct historical evolution. There is more to Romania than Dracula. Visitors, lured by bloodcurdling tales, come to Romania and discover lovely medieval Saxon towns like Sighisoara, where the real Dracula (Vlad Tepes) first grew his teeth, rural paradise of Maramures and Bucovina, another rural paradise with the recognised painted churches considered among the greatest artistic monuments of Europe.

Bucovina, tucked into the north eastern corner of Romania, lies in the easily-defended Carpathian foothills where the region’s hero, Stefan the Great, fought back the Turks in 14^th and 15^th centuries and then built churches and monasteries throughout Moldavia to celebrate his victories. His descendant, Petru Rares, continued his work by setting the foundations for many other famous monasteries. There are 48 monasteries in total. These unique monasteries and Byzantine churches with their exceptional exterior frescoes are one of the most fascinating sights in Romania. Seven of the painted monasteries have been included on the Unesco World Heritage List.

The name Bucovina has a Slavic origin and is derived from the word for beech tree “buk” in Ukrainian; the German equivalent, das Buchenland, mostly used in poetry, means “the land of beech trees”. In Romanian the original name of the region during the rule of the Moldavian Principality was "Tara de Sus" (Upper Country), referring to the altitude, as opposed to the lower plains called "Tara de Jos" (Lower Country).

Southern Bucovina was annexed to Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1775 and returned to Romania in 1918. Northern Bucovina, previously also part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was lost to the USSR (now the Ukraine) in 1945 together with its capital, Cernauti and never returned to Romania.

Most of the churches are fortified with strong defensive surroundings walls as protection against Turkish invaders. The exterior walls of the monasteries are richly decorated with vivid frescoes depicting dramatic Biblical scenes, intended to teach Christianity to the illiterate by means of pictures. The artwork has amazingly survived harsh exposure to the elements for over 450 years and the intense colours have been well preserved.

Suceava, once the capital of Moldavia and today the largest town in the area, is the gateway to visiting the painting monasteries of Southern Bucovina.

Bucolic rural landscapes steeped in legend and folklore, fairy tale villages and some of the Europe’s wildest mountain scenery. It is a territory with clean unspoiled nature. It has a unique landscape: thick forests and imposing crests (“obcine”). You might even catch a glimpse of a buffalo, a species that is being reintroduced into a natural reservation.

Reaching the summer pastures you meet proud shepherds who will literally live in the mountains with their flocks throughout the summer months, and perhaps even sample their delicious sheep cheese coveted by Romanians. On high alpine meadows the shepherd in thick fleeces sleeps out with his valuable flock at night to offer protection from wolves and bears.

A visit to Bucovina would not be complete without some stunning nature walks through Ceahlau National Park, Romania’s Olympus – the sacred mountain of the Dacians, the forefathers of the Romanian people. Make sure you bring binoculars as some 90 species of birds can be seen in the park area. Hikers won’t want to pass up taking a crack at the Bicaz Gorges, a steep, twisting-and-turning climb more than three miles long.

In this area there is a natural reservation meant to preserve the flora and fauna, because here there are several rare species, such as: the edelweiss, the aurochs, the grouse, the lynx, and the stag.

Bucovina is a magical place. The energy of her cities mixed with a fascinating and diverse history, boasts an unparalleled culture that merge flawlessly with the enchanting, inimitable and rugged landscape.

Barry Island - Wales

Having lost the heavy industry on which the docks, and the town was founded, Barry needs to pursue a new route -based upon newer and lighter industries, leisure, service and tourism. Barry has much to offer. It enjoys panoramic views of the Bristol Channel, and is close to the rural Vale. It is close enough to Cardiff to enjoy the resources of the city, but without the disadvantages of having to live in the city. It is large enough to provide its residents with many facilities lacking in smaller communities.

Just over 100 years ago, the present Barry comprised only three small villages and a few scattered farms in three parishes - Barry, Merthyr Dyfan and Cadoxton. The population in 1881 was 85 in the village of Barry, and 403 in Cadoxton. By the 1920's the population of Barry was around 40,000 - a figure that changed little over the rest of the century.

With the building of the docks in the 1890's there followed an explosion of development and population. Within 30 years the port and railway of Barry were world famous for the export of coal. Thirty years later the coal industry had collapsed, and Barry had to find a new identity in post-war Britain. Cynics say we are still looking! As much of the town was built during the expansion of the docks, most of it has grown old at the same time.

Wimbledon 2009

Bits of Cardiff

Cardiff is the capital, largest city and most populous county of Wales . The city is Wales' chief commercial centre, the base for many national cultural and sporting institutions, the Welsh national media, and the seat of the National Assembly for Wales.


Within the compact city centre you'll find unique attractions, top class entertainment - and quality shopping with a difference. Innovative architecture sits alongside historic buildings, the bustle of the city centre is only a few strides from acres of peaceful parklands, and Cardiff Bay offers indoor and outdoor entertainment for everyone.

There are two rival theories regarding the precise origins of the name Cardiff or Caerdydd in Welsh. There is uncertainty concerning the origin of "Caerdydd" — "Caer" means "fort" or "castle," but although "Dydd" means "Day" in modern Welsh, it is unclear what was meant in this context. Some believe that "Dydd " or "Diff" was a corruption of "Taff", the river on which Cardiff castle stands, in which case "Cardiff" would mean "the fort on the river Taff" (in Welsh the T mutates to D).

A rival theory favours a link with Aulus Didius Gallus who was a Roman governor in the region at the time the fort was established. The name may have originated as Caer Didius – The Fort of Didius.

Cardiff lies at the centre of three river systems, the Taff, the Ely and the Rhymney. Its location allowed its first residents to control trade and movement along these rivers, giving them power over a large area. The first people to take advantage of this location were the Romans who set up a fort here on the site of Cardiff Castle about AD55-60. Some of the original Roman walls can still be seen and the new interpretation centre, opened in June 2008, is set against the backdrop of the original Roman foundation walls. This dominating fort protected its inhabitants until about AD350-375 when it was abandoned at the end of Roman rule in Britain.

The Vikings and the Normans also made their presence felt in Cardiff, and in 1091 Robert Fitzhamon began work on the castle keep, which has been at the heart of the city ever since.

Studio Valbonne - London - Ella Chi

Studio Valbonne, previously called Tantra, is one of the most exciting addition to the London Club scene. The venue already attracts celebrities, jet setters and people from the entertainment industry. To enter this exclusive nightclub you will need to be on top of your game as Studio Valbonne operates a strict door policy but once inside, you will be delighted and amazed by the rich, bright and colorful decor. If you liked Tantra, you'll love Studio Valbonne.

about waiting....

Stare de imponderabilitate

Acea nebunie calma
ce ma strange,
ma cuprinde,
si ma arde ca o rana,
as vrea,
cat as vrea...
s-o ucid
chiar cu propriile maini
inmuiate-n sange
de molid.
As vrea s-o ingrop
in cavernele
eternei morti
adunate intr-un singur
strop
picurat de departari straine,
de viata,
de moarte
si uitate in tristele corabii pline.


Acea nebunie calma
ma suprima
cum suprima
vantul toamna,
acea nebunie calma
si senina.