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Elios

Image
                                                   Toamna asta vine cu o dorința tăcută după ceva ce nu știu încă sa definesc.                                               Ceva ce se simte aproape, dar încă nevăzut, si neatins.                                       O vibratie viscerala ce mă șicanează puțin, mă ademenește,                                Ceva ce mișcă fiecare dimineața ce-mi clincăne la geam.                          Vreau sa mă îmbrac special ca sa intampin necunoscutul dulce.   ...

Iluzii

Mă uitam cu nesaț la petalele infoiate ale unor flori de sezon, ce se unduiau voluptos in briza după-amiezelor mele.  Mi-am imaginat ca ar avea niste rădăcini pe măsură, adânci si ramificate, ce ar încleșta cu putere pământurile, si aproape le-as fi zărit trupurile vânjoase ieșind puțin afara când ar bătea ploaia.  Prinsă in pasiunea mea, am început sa zgârm ca o nebună. Si am găsit niște rădăcini firave, învățând in același timp ca florile nu erau perene.  M-am întristat, ca as fi vrut sa le am mereu aproape...

Languages

"You used foul language. They could have escorted you out of the restaurant, you know...?" "What foul language...?" "'F' word..." "Me...? 'F' word? I never talk with 'f' word, are you ok...? "You were very loud saying in Romanian 'fac' a couple of times, when you were upset with that app...  It's all they heard, those guys..."

De toamnă

Îmi strigă coioții de jale, tare adânca, se pare.  Ajunge la mine frânturi-- o ploaie de confeti printre perdele si cearșafuri,                              noaptea...

Midnight

I am rarely awaken by a dream in the middle of the night... When heard about his curious passing at a train station, a sheep caught on fire in a faraway field. How strange... his sheep?  I am trying to rescue the sheep, but it's the hardest thing. The night lit up marvelously from the woolly fire that I almost don't want to... I am torn between wanting to stop the fire and keeping it. The poetry of it. But then, how can I let poor sheep die...?

Practice 2

Art is wrapped in gauze-like fabric as if it's an old wound that heals slowly, a nd its process an ancient burial ritual.                                                                                                                                                                         

Mirrors and veils

Green grass, green grass... Waiting, waiting... The young man pulled out an ordinary metal coffee can  from his well worn backpack and took off the lid. Then, without any hesitation, he grabbed the snake from inside and let it out. He held it by its tail, as if on display, so all of us saw the creature's full length. A grayish snake with pattern, of a decent size, an odd apparition on the lawn in front of the dance studio...  I was not scared, just delighted, as such occurrence made waiting time less boring. After all, although kind of hideous, snakes are curios animals that fascinated me. They move as if they have no bones, and some apparently sensitive to special music. And I was about to take up dancing, to find out why ballerinas float in the air... Step one, two... repeat, step one, two, repeat... Look in the mirror, posture, keep up the posture...The instructor-- a lady that made quite a presence with her impressive bun and poised figure-- was tough on everybody. Short r...