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Se pare ca nu nimeresc peretii, sau, mai bine zis, ii iau in brate pe toti…nici usile, nici ferestrele. Linii se intretaie, puncte se unesc. Cineva ghiceste in palma. Trecutul trecator. S-au adunat toate in mod paradoxal in aceeasi zi. Te rog sa pasesti putin inapoi si sa-mi faci loc sa respir. Iti multumesc. Mi se parea ca ai uitat unde iti este locul. Printre amintiri si uitari. In rest, nu-i nevoie sa stii. Iarta-ma ca nu te privesc tot timpul. Obosisem de mult. Am altele acum…

Play that morning song again, just like you used to…

Vremea nu mai tine cu mine. Si devin din ce in ce mai superstitioasa. Dintotdeauna aveam impresia ca are ceva sa-mi spuna…fiecare adiere de vant care imi mangaia fruntea, fiecare furtuna care imi impleticea pasii, fiecare raza de soare asternuta la picioarele mele. Iluzie de fiinta plapanda sub zarurile sortii.

„Te caut in fiecare clipa. Bat in geamuri tarzii, suier prin ferestre inghetate, urlu in hoteluri pierdute in noapte. Te gasesc si incerc sa ajung pana la tine cu orice pret. Intru pe usa, pe geamuri, prin hornuri prafuite…numai sa te ating. Si stiu ca simti cand ma joc in parul tau. Si stiu ca tii la mine. Nu minti, stiu asta!”

Tin minte. Demult. Te alintam. Acum am uitat. Inca tin minte numele, dar daca l-as rosti…ar suna sec, n-ar mai fi alint. Asa ca tac. M-am jucat cu tine o dupa-amiaza. Dar vezi tu…nu mai sunt fetita care iti radea in fata si iti arunca pungi de un leu in chip de zmeie…sa le dai aripi, sa le faci sa zboare pana la cerul innorat…

Normally, I wouldn’t mind it at all. I’d love this crazy weather. But you took away all my storms and left me with dry tears…

Anul acesta nu mi-a inflorit copacul. Am asteptat zile in sir. Cel de langa el a avut cateva flori timide. Acum au inverzit amandoi fara minunea unor flori roz-alburii. Mi se strange inima. In fond…am si eu un sambure de superstitie. De ce n-a inflorit? Ce bruma nevazuta i-a umbrit mugurii abia mijiti prin scoarta bruna si aspra? De ce a inflorit anul trecut? Inflorea doar pentru tine? Crescuse la fereastra mea din greseala? Din ce in ce mai mult am senzatia ca visele altcuiva se implinesc si e doar o intamplare ca ele seamana cu ale mele…Mi se termina norocul? Nu vreau. Nu pot trai fara…Tot ce am… e doar noroc chior…

-Am dormit azi putin.
-Eu am zburat putin…
-Nu-mi place vremea. Vine ploaia! E asa capricioasa.
-Da. Si verdele e atat de verde si s-acondensat in ramuri de copaci si zimti de iarba, mai aproape, tot mai aproape de pamant. Vibreaza surd, isi topeste viata in aerul racoros. Imi scald privirea in baie de lumina densa, filtrata prin nori cenusii, cu palide nuante de roz si auriu. S-a inchis cerul in culcusul unui vant intarziat. Soarele s-a sters si o umbra difuza face ca totul sa radieze. Trotuar cald, frunze vii, calm, confort…uitare.
-Ce spuneai?

Si lumea era prea mare. Iar noi eram prea mici…

Didn’t want to wake up this morning. Too busy dreaming about you.

Sunt atat de de neindemanatica azi. Clipele se scurg pe langa mine si abia ma ating cu privirea lor. As vrea sa pot functiona iar. De ce nu pot fara tine? De ce nu mai conteaza cu tine? Sunt atatea de facut in viata aceasta, atatea de invatat, atatea de citit, atatea de scris. Dar, inainte de toate, trebuie sa invat sa dorm…

And stepped at once into a cooler clime…

Life has betrayed me once again,
I accept some things will never change.
I’ve let your tiny minds magnify my agony,
and it’s left me with a chem’cal dependency for sanity.

Yes, I am falling… how much longer till I hit the ground?
I can’t tell you why I’m breaking down.
Do you wonder why I prefer to be alone?
Have I really lost control?

I’m coming to an end,
I’ve realised what I could have been.
I can’t sleep so I take a breath and hide behind my bravest mask,
I admit I’ve lost control.

Anathema – Lost control

They drained the pond this morning. How sad… My kid played there the whole summer. Well, it wasn’t exactly a pond. She used to call it like that. She kept telling me about their little lake with goldfish and frogs and water lilies and rocks…I was quite astonished when I heard her for the first time. I didn’t really get it until she showed me the place. In fact, it was only a puddle on the sidewalk. Some damaged pipes were the source of all the mistery. It became rapidly the favourite spot of all the children in the neighbourhood. And I couldn’t get enough of her stories about that magical place.

This morning, though…while I was going to work, I noticed some workers digging…and I knew it was the end. And I felt sorry for the kids…and all their little dreams. I looked at those serious men ruining so many happy moments without even knowing it. Why did they came? The broken pipes laid there for months…And then I started wondering…how all those tough men look like in those cute, sweet, sensitive moments of theirs…They can be incredibly touching…like that man who came a few months ago at my office with a kitty he found on the streets. He confessed that he wanted to give it away. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, he decided to keep it…He didn’t know anything about pets. And he seemed so clumsy when trying to take care of it. His hands were trembling and I realized that this was something important for him. I could almost feel the bond between those two souls. Amazing…

I also think of my husband when I say this. Lately, he’s become so…I don’t know…crazy, irresponsible, cheerful and sad at the same time…so full of life… I can’t blame him, he’s in love. Unfortunately, not with me…Actually, I never thought this could be possible, but, yes, I’m happy for him. Since I first met him, I never believed he could fall in love like this. So childish and reckless, so sweet, so curious…like he’s rediscovering himself and the world he didn’t really notice so far. Like a teenager who doesn’t dare to express his feelings. And I love to see him like that and I’m glad for each new step that he takes, for every emotion, every thought that lights his face, every plan he makes, every decision he takes. I feed myself with his happiness. Is that really possible? Is there something wrong with me? Because…as long as he’s here and he keeps this mad experience for himself, I can only smile and watch him intrigued and fascinated. Yet, I die with every second he thinks of her…”I’m stoned in love but not with you”…

And this made me remember so many things…and made me miss all of them. Maybe I should tell you…all those…maybe you should know, before it’s too late… I miss loving that stranger that you were. Trying to find out who you are…startling with every new finding. Living without knowing what tomorrow brings. When everything was just a game and I didn’t even know what I felt or what I wanted. When my love was pure and naive, when a smile could light the world. I miss being shy and quiet in your presence. I miss being afraid to touch you. I miss sleeping in your arms for the first time and melting…And no dream can replace that.

A trecut un an. Un an de la primul blog. Inca nu a inflorit copacul in primavara aceasta, dar trunchiul negru si sumbru sta sa plesneasca de veselie. N-ai ghici, daca n-ai sti ce urmeaza. Mai tii minte? Am invatat asta anul trecut. Am invatat ca se naste in fiecare an. Eu nu am parte de asa ceva. M-am nascut abia anul trecut si de atunci ma tot nasc din cotloanele unei minti obosite. Nici sa zbor nu apuc prea curand. Dar copacul tot va prinde aripi peste cateva zile.

Era parca mai multa poezie in iubirea mea inexistenta de atunci. Un fel de joaca dulce-amaruie cu implicatii neglijabile. Acum totul e ancorat in concret, mai aproape de pamant, mai stresant, mai pregnant, miros de parafina. Griji marunte, ganduri meschine. As vrea sa stiu daca mai am nebunia de atunci, daca am topit-o intr-o uitare de sine, daca mai sunt asa sau daca mai pot fi asa. Mi-e dor de sfarseala aia de primavara amestecata cu un zambet purtat pe adieri de Copou… naivitate si sfiala…



O pata gri intr-un ocean de culoare.

aprilie 2007