Recent am inceput o  noua viata…nu asta nu e bine..e aceasi viata doar ca s-a schimbat decorul ..da frumosul si coloratul Bucuresti unde fiecare zi e o noua aventura. Agitatie ..multa agitatie…viteza..goana..fuga..si alte cuvinte de genul..iar daca nu tii pasul risti sa fi calcat in picioare( si la propriu si la figurat)..da o armata de robotei…(acum sa ma scuzati ca si eu ma amestesc cu voi) ..si nu ma pot abtine sa nu raman cateodata pironita in mijlocul lor sa ii privesc..cum se agita..cum dau din maini..vorbesc tare sa acopere zgomotul de fundal..si cum se inghesuie intr-o  imbratisare a maselor …Da nu mai avem timp…pentru ca fugim..fugim de trecutul care ne bate pe umar catre viitorul care rade cu gura pana la urechi..dar sa nu ma abat de la subiect ca iar o sa fiu mustrata de cititori…Cum spuneam este un oras amuzant asta daca ai timp sa privesti oamenii si reactiile lor in diferite situatii…dar cine mai are timp de asa ceva?..

In alta ordine de idei..ma bucur de toamna..o toamna calduroasa..insorita..si de nucul multicolor din fata geamului meu..

In alta ordine de idei …tinand cont ca e un post mai personal..as vrea sa ma plang..( da..da nu sunteti nevoiti sa cititi asta stiti nu? ) de o chestiune care ma deranjeaza foarte mult..o prejudecata pe care suprinzator o au si generatiile ce nu au fost afectate . Aici vorbesc de limba rusa…da..studiez limba rusa( pentru cei care nu stiau) .nu nu sunt comunista..asta e pentru oamenii care se uita chioras. ( daca as studia germana as fi fascista?!)..si da imi place..e o limba surprinzator de melodioasa si foarte logica..Rusii au o cultura extraordinara..si cred ca pana si tu cel care te uiti indoielnic la mine ai auzit de Tolstoi..sau poate de Cehov..( nu intru in detalii)In fine…ideea e ca datorita acestor prejudecati nu s-au pastrat multe materiale in limba rusa( ma refer la carti de tot felul si mai ales pentru incepatori) si asta e dureros…Dar acum nu vorbesc numai de rusa..am dat un exemplu care ma afecteaza…sunt mii de alte lucruri fata de care nu suntem deschisi pentru ca le asociem cu trecutul…Pun punct aici pentru ca nu vreau sa intru in detalii..

Da cam asta a fost..nimic poetic..nimic profund…si totusi….

De ce imi doresc mereu sa fiu altceva…altcineva..in alt loc…sub alt cer..pe alta planeta..?..De ce nu pot fi multumita cu ce am..cu ce sunt…?..Da..dorintele astea ma fac doar sa fiu dezamagita…de toti si tot…dezamagita sa constat realitatea..De ce e realitatea asa….reala?..Vreau sa scap de tot..intelegi?…Vreau sa ma intelgi…Nu..nu mai pune atatea intrebari..nu au rost…doar taci..si asculta…Auzi…auzi viata cum ne curge prin vene..si noi stam…stam si asteptam…Ce asteptam?…Eu nu vreau sa astept..pricepi?..Hai sa fugim…De ce?..De cine?..Hai sa fugim de noi…

Am un raspuns…la toate intrebarile: pentru ca sunt om…

(da stiu…sunt niste idei dezordonate..dar traficul asta de idei il am mereu in cap…simteam nevoia sa ma descarc..mie )

“No use” she thought as she put down the cup,biting the eraser of her pencil “I will never be able to write a book about a perfect relationship”. She sighed and reached for her cellphone. She looked at the screen thinking about an excuse for her editor; she imagined his face turning red and the tone of his voice..she freaked out and put the cellphone down.

She took her head in her hands and kept looking at the blank page

“What am I going to do?” she said sad

“Can I help you?” she heard a sweet masculine voice and saw the end of a white apron

“No,I don’t want to order anything else.Thank you!” she answered

“No Miss,I mean with this..”he said reaching for the blank sheet of paper

She raised her head and saw a tall dark haired guy,with deep green eyes and a charming smile. She put herself her best smile and said:

“What do you know about perfect relationships?”

“Well I know something. Let me finish my shift and we will talk..”

After he finished his shift they went into a pub nearby. The atmosphere was a relaxing one: it was slow music and candles, the perfect time and place to talk about….

“…Perfect relationship you say..”he said as he laid back in his chair.He stood like that for a couple of minutes,then leaned to her and looked her in the eyes “There is no such thing”he ended with a bitter smile

“But you said…”she said disappointed

“I know what I said.There aren’t perfect relationships,just relationships to tend to be perfect. In order to reach the perfection a relationship needs to pass the time test. For example: Romeo and Juliet,Tristan and Isolde,the old couple living next door to you,maybe even your parents…every couple has this chance…even you and me..”…

The flashback ended..she was sitting in her armchair,looking at her grandchildren playing on the carpet. She saw her husband..she saw the joy of playing with their grandchildren in his deep green eyes. She took her latest book in her hand and read the last page…

“…..I could leave the last page blank. There is no such thing as “the perfect relationship”, but then I remember the years spent with my husband and his charming smile that never got old…There is no such thing as “the perfect relationship”..but ours is almost there,dear…”

Deschide fereastra..ia o gura de aer…si asculta sunetul greieriilor..niste fapturi altruiste..care canta pentru toti fara a cere nimic in schimb…” oare omul nu este mai animal ca animalul?”…desi minuscul..poate face sa vibreze o intreaga lume…asa cum un sentiment pozitiv..poate face sa vibreze chiar si o inima de piatra…

-         Azi sunt filozoafa..gandi ea..inchizand fereastra…

Se aseaza la masa de scris..avea atatea ganduri..idei..sentimente…dar mana nu o asculta…decise ca era o zi “fara inspiratie”cum o numea ea..si isi inchise caietul…isi citi numele scris pe coperta..frumos caligrafic…”ce era oare numele ei?”..”o reperezenta pe ea oare?”…”nume cinsteste omul..sau omul trebuie sa cinsteasca numele?”…surase amar…cine isi va aminti peste ani ai ani numele ei?…asta ii dadu un impuls..va scrie…orice gand..cat de mic si neinsemnat..poate peste ani..cineva il va citi cu emotie si placere…si astfel numele ei va ramane intiparit in eternitate…”omul..cinsteste numele”….

Capsorul e e ca o gara…idei vin si pleaca ca trenurile..in viteza lasand in urma..nume de persoane..nume de locuri..sentimente consumatein vagoane..soapte acoperite de sunetul facut de rotile trenului……dar..nu avea un controlor care sa fluiere si sa spuna “stop joc”( asta era la fotbal?!)….asa k..trenurile plecau si veneau..lasand in urma zarea….

Walking on the same road..but yet we are so far one from another. Just leave me behind..let me follow you with my eyes..until you go out of sight..I will miss you..Yes I will but..with you by my side I feel like I am going to die…you take everything that is good in me..leaving me empty..like a shell…Give me back my pearl..give my back my life..give me back my tears..and give me back my sorrow..my sweet sorrow..give me back to myself…

I don’t know anymore who I am..who I was..or what I want to be..you took my dreams and my hopes..why?

You look back..but it’s no point in doing that..it;s nothing left for you here..i can’t offer you nothing…and you know that..You leave..leaving me behind…laying on the ground,the storm is coming,the thunders and the lightings don’t frighten me anymore..i just cry..cry my heart out..for what? For who?

I lost all my memories of you…who are you? What is who?..I don’t know..I can’t feel anymore..standing here on the ground I realized..that I want to be a stone…a little pebble,who endures wind and storms,day after day,year after year..nothing to do,but to sink in its own sorrow..maybe sometimes…someone will kick me..and play with me..no strings attached..leaving me behind…so..i become a pebble

I was a small,dark coloured pebble when he found me…he took me in his hand…put me in his soft palm and smiled”You are a beautiful pebble”he said..lucky pebbles don’t blush..he took me away..we walk for ages..he told me about his life and I listen carfully,afterall,pebbles can’t talk…He then stopped..and said “I want to love and be loved”and a tear felt on me…suddenly..i was no longer a rock..something inside me begun to rush…how come? Pebbles don’t have a heart…But his tears…melt me..i was again flesh and bone..and what’s worst..full of feelings…

He embraced me..took me close to his heart,and whispered”I waited so long for you”..i wish I could have said something..but I was silent as a rock.”Love me “ he said..but I couldn’t reply,only my heart became warm”You don’t love me?” he asked”Yes she does “my heart shouted..but he couldn’t hear…”Shall I leave”he asked with sorrow “No” all my being shouted..but he couldn’t hear..so he left with small steps..Suddenly..my feet become light and I started to run, I grab his hand and whispered”I am just a pebble,no memories..no present,no future..I can’t feel like a human..but I will love you as pebbles do..silent and forever, Can you love a pebble?”

He didn’t replied,he just stood still,and smiled,he put my head on his chest..and I could only hear his heart  whispering”I do..”

So if you see two pebbles..staying side by side..on the top of the mountain,counting the clouds and the starts…is us..forver silent..forever in love…

“It’s time to go honey”,I  heard my mum calling downstairs

“A minute mum”

I opened the window and kissed one red-yellowed leaf of my beloved cherrytree. I then let it flew on the wings of the wind..far,far ..where I was going

“Goodbye my old friend..”

And a tear fellon my carpet,which had already been stainedwith paint,dating back from when I had been a talented young artist.

Suddenly I realised..I wasn’t leaving just an old tree..I was leaving my memories,deep hiden in branches and roots.That tree had been my life until then : joyfull, fearful,loving and sometimes painfull,but I always found my inner smile just being there,in my house.

I wasn’t leaving a tree..I was leaving that tree full of sweet gifts and branches where you can swing,and full of  falling leaves like bitter tears and comforting branches like lover’s arms.

Yes! I was leaving my childhood and my adolescence.

A fost odata o fetita tare ciudata…avea deasupra capului ei un nor din care mereu cadeau picaturi de ploaie…si de parca nu era de ajuns..din ochii ei exagerat de mari..cadeau mereu picaturi . Era atat de singura biata faptura, caci nimeni nu vroia sa fie udat de picaturile de ploaie, mari si negre care cadeau peste ea…nimeni..nu vorbea cu ea…nimeni nu o privea in ochi…nimeni nu o imbratisa..nimeni nu o iubea pe biata fetita singuratica….

Umbla mereu…zi si noapte..singurul ei priten era norulmare si negru care plana deasupra ei..uneori il iubea…in momentele ei de singuratate..alteori il ura ptr singuratatea ei…dar incerca sa se resemneze..Dar sentimental care ii incerca cel mai mult fiinta..era cel de mila..ii eramila de oameni care o priveau ciudat, ca pe o leproasa,..ii era mila..de lipsa lor de judecata…de mintea lor limitata…de prejudecata lor..Uneori..le suradea de sub norul ei negru..un suras..plin de bunatate si mila..asacum un bunic le surade nepotilor..gandindu-se k a fost k ei, gandindu-se oare cum vor fi ei cand vor ajunge in locul lui..gandindu-se la viitorul lui..care se arata incetosat….

Cel mai mult ii lipsea soarele..razele lui..care nu reuseau sa patrunda prin norul ei..tanjea dupa caldura soareleui..calduracare i-ar fi incalzit corpul si sufletul…tanjea dupa atingerea fluturilor…tanjea dupa atingerea ploii adevarate…tanjea..dupa Viata..in inchisoarea ei..strajuita de norul cel negru…..

Biata fetita cu ochii exagerat de mari…care din miile de picaturi de ploaie care te-au atins..ti-a sters zambetul de pe fata?..care din ele ti-a stins flacara sperantei din suflet?..care din ele ti-a sters amintirile ? care din ele ti-a inecat fericirea?………

Nu mai plange fetita a ploii..nu iti ineca amarul in lacrimi..viseaza la libertate..ca pasarile de pe arcalui Noe…si poate intr-o zi..vei gasi si tu crengutata de maslin…

Biata fetita fara umbrela..care stai in furtuna propriilor sentimente…nu te ascunde in umbra norului…astepta vantul care va duce departe norul din viata ta…acel vant care va bate in panzele corabiei tale sit e va duce…deaparte…de tot..de toate…de prezent si viitor..departe de ce ai fost..si ar fi trebuit sa fi…

Cineva imi spunea azi ( referitor la avatarul meu) ca fiecare imagine pe care o pun are o poveste.Adevarul este ca pozele,imaginile ma fascineaza. Cum pot aceste petice de realitate sa reflecte si sa transmita atatea lucruri…ptr mine o poza trebuie sa transmita ceva..sa spuna o poveste…

Cu totii adoram sa ne uitam in albumul de familie si sa ne gandim la “good old times”…cel putin in albumul meu fiecare poza are o poveste. Imi plac in special pozele alb-negru si cele ingalbenite de vreme,sunt ca niste letopisete uitate intr-o rama. Cand eram copil incercam adesea sa identific persoanele din poza…si nu puteam pricepe cum acolo ramasasera copii..iar in realitate sufletul le fusese macinat de vreme..Existenta noastra in sine e o poza ingalbenita intr-un album…pe care Univerusul si Timpul il rasfoiesc…Ma intreb daca am iesit bine in poza?:))….Inca nu! Mai am dreptul la cateva cadre…inca nu am sfarsit…

Adesea privind o poza mi-am imaginat povestea ei..si astfel s-au nascut multe din eseurile mele…copii unor poze….O poza face cat 100 de cuvinte..nu-i asa?..nu stiu cine a spus asta,dar a spus-o tare bine…

Poze…imagini rupte dintr-un film…imagini rupte din viata…imagini rupte parca din sufletul si mintea noastra…Imagini care te fac sa razi sau sa plangi,imagini pe care la privesti cu nostalgie,imagini pe care la privesti cu curiozitate,imagini pe care le privesti in treacat sau imagini pe care stai sa le analizezi..Oricum ar fi,imaginile spun ceva…

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