luni, 22 iulie 2013

pentru o mireasa

Te ridici de pe scaun si te vezi cu voalul tras si cu ochii in pamant. Iti ridici ochii si sunt in lacrimi. Sunt lacrimi de schimbare, de dor de ce-a fost si mai ales de dor de ce-o sa vina. Te uiti in jur... prieteni... parinti... obligatii si nasi. Si flori multe multe flori.

Opreste-te, stai! Ce faci? Am machiajul acum pus si nu ca mi-ar pasa prea mult, dar am si o masca de purtat, doar azi ca de maine...poate chiar de diseara sunt iar eu.Coboara o lacrima, iar ele, domnisoarele de onoare se inghesuie sa o stearga. E o lacrima lipsita de control, de disciplina - sa imi alunece pe obraz chiar azi... sa se strecoare printre genele false, pe care nu le place deloc caci ma fac sa clipesc prea mult, sa fiu mai inalta, sa zambesc cam mult si cam fals, sa lipesc pupaturi unor seminecunoscuti.

Te ridici in picioare tu "cea cu a-ti lua ziua buna" si il cauti cu privirea. O fi rezolvat cu listele, cu invitatii, de ce a intarziat? Intarziem la cununie, si fotograful, ah sa nu uit sa zambesc la fotograf, ce inspirata am fost ca nu mi-am luat tocuri, mi-ar fi fost niste gene false la picioare. Si ma uit inspre mama si o vad ca se abtine sa nu planga si ma uit inspre tata si ma uit ca se abtina sa nu planga si ma uit la frate-miu ce e emotionat si fastacit si trebuie sa faca lucruri si stie sa le faca bine, nu mai e copilul acela ce-o sa fie mereu...mereu pentru mine.

Stai stai, e cam repede, nu ma pot misca singura in hora. Tu tu tre sa duci si hora din fata blocului si cea din restaurant si cea din sufletul tau. Hora din sufletul tau... dar e o hora de vara e cald si sunt stropitori si te racoresc stropitorile in timp ce tu dansezi linistita. Hora aceea te linisteste un pic, caci stii ca e bine... ca e bine si ca o sa fiti bine, ca sunteti bine demult, nu perfect, caci nimic nu e perfect si ce e perfect nu-i frumos... dar e bine si greu si greu ca nu sunteti genul de oameni care sa fuga de greutati, dar d-aia e si frumos, caci "sunteti", "faceti" "traiti" "simtiti" acum si mai mereu si in doi.

Te ridici si zambesti. Nu te mai deranjeaza nici genele false nici Mos Craciunii ce beau bere si se prefac in mosuleti semi-senili.

Zambeste si plangi, caci e ziua ta si randul tau sa o faci.

dans de vara cu o tigara

dansezi in cuvinte de vara, cuvinte usoare de principii cordiale.
dansezi  in priviri de demult si astepti prea multe si prea curand

te repezi spre viitor cu gandul si dintr-o data cuvintele de vara se prefac in scrum.
Scrumezi vecina, scrumezi cuvinte usoare dragi si necesare?

Scrumez vecine scrumez caci tigarile's scumpe si mi-e greu sa le las, doar imi place ce e scump
si ce e interzis.

isi arunca priviri interzise pe ringul de dans. Ai uitat cuvintele usoare acasa? Iti aduci cu tine mainile usoare si zambetul usor si gandul ce se repede clar spre viitor..

Scrumez vecine drag caci mi-e bine si imi place. Scrumez vecine drag vise deochiate d'alde eliade zburator
si m-arunc in hora, un doi un doi, sunt in ritm...sau nu

si ce daca n-am ritm si n-am clasa cand in picioarele-mi goale pe ringul de dans
plonjez spre viitor.

Sper sa ma prinda cineva sau sa fii invatat sa cad.

vineri, 12 iulie 2013

Years of Insanity

Years of insanity. Years of full insanity when the main worry of the day was what book should I read next, what dress should I wear, where to go and what to do. Years of being a teenager, with drama and with lots of worrying for the future, but in a philosophical way, of course, as we were the next generation of intellectuals.

Years of pure insanity. When people from all over the world met, talked, shared their stories, their lifes and their ways and left. Years of pure joy when friendships were made not instantly. Friendships that do not talk the language of interest or obligations or of any other selfish idiom. Friendships that work even when people do not communicate as much, even when people see each other once or twice a year. Really meet somewhere online of course cause the journey would be too much for this times we leave in.

From those years of pure insanity I remember one, that began with this lovely girl, blonde with such blue eyes that was sitting along on a chair and with this other girl that was me...both were so enthuziastic and so commited to their future experience as students in that campus. They sat next to each other. They've became friends. I rarely believe in acts of destiny but this was one such act.

That year I had an automn dream. A dream so beautifull and fragile, a dream of the gods and artists. I loved that dream with all my heart. In september I always have this automn dream... in september and when I see beautiful art, beautiful flowers... and beautifull drawings. It's a life long connection, although in reality it was one year.

I have met there in this central corner of the world this women that seemed to be a child. She had this way about her, and people that did not knew her, thought she is like a bebe, a small and innocent bebe. She was my friend. She became one of my best friends in the world. She is kind, her kindness comes from a knowledge and a calm that I do not have, from her culture and her believes. She believes in people, although not so much in man. That man that will come along will be really lucky and also should expect a challenge. She is one of the most matures and emotionall and also rational people I met, she is a cocktail of beauty and grace and anoyness - when she forgets to answer her invoices, and kindness and a bit of sorrow. This woman that she is, may pass as a child. This is just one of her marvelous charms.

Years when I didn't really liked a girl at first, she was in a group with people that didn't seem to like to interact...she seemed a bit arrogant. But then I talked with her. And at the end I was her friend. And I will send my kids to her... in hollidays as I don't know somebody that would take better care of them.

Years of insanity where words like gandmara and zelenium and where spice food and feasts and games have made us a group.Where tea's on Sunday and cocktail dinners, where going out on Vodka REV was not the best place, but the best place for us.

Years when I learned something about hindi culture... about this men and women that are wonderful, helpfully, intelligent and have drivers and servants, but are not so different as I thought. They dance and sing and learn and talk, they talk a lot, and they are wonderful individually wonderful. Especially my flat mates, my extended flat mates.

Years of insanity and of that only one that made me know another world - complicated, strange, exciting and knowledgeable one. One where we become friends.

Years of insanity and friendship. Good years.

Tinerete dis de dimineata intr-o oglinda de hartie

Oglindesc de la inceput un zambet.

E un zambet si atat. Lipsesc multe din el… un strop de ciocolata cu alune, o cafea de dimineata, o plimbare intr-un parc si o carte buna.  
Oglindesc dis de dimineata un zambet. E perfect nu lipseste nimic din el. E perfect imperfect, caci niciodata n-am avut un zambet perfect, am dintii prea galbeni.
Oglindesc un zambet imperfect… si totusi un zambet de la 5 dimineata. Greu greu de realizat dupa primii 17 ani de viata, mai ales pentru persoanele nematinale ca mine.
Nu stiu ce mi s-a intamplat de oglindesc bucurie intr-o oglinda de hartie dis de dimineata.

Oglindesc de la inceput bucurie intr-o oglinda de hartie. Ce sa fie domne? 

E tinerete.