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Da, nu ma asteptam sa ma prinda in halul asta o poveste pentru copii. Victor m-a rugat sa i-o citesc si mi-am pierdut vocea incercand sa ii fac pe plac. M-a ascultat cu atentie mai multa vreme decat as fi crezut. Dar, pana la urma, s-au dovedit a fi prea multe cuvinte pentru a spune o poveste atat de simpla. Astept sa mai creasca si sa o citeasca singur.

Eram dinainte fascinata, de cand am vazut, pe bucatele, ecranizarea din ’84. Dar, ori filmul le amesteca, ori nu-mi mai aduc eu bine aminte…cartea e cu totul altceva… Primul lucru care m-a socat a fost infatisarea lui Atreiu. Adica, in carte, Atreiu e verde. Verde-masliniu. Si traieste intr-o mare ierboasa. Si vaneaza bivoli purpurii. Asocierea asta imi da peste cap toate rotitele creierului. Adica cum vine asta? In fine, in jumatate de carte deja s-a intamplat cam tot ce-mi aminteam din film. Mi se pare ca toate se intampla prea repede, situatiile se rezolva cand nici bine n-au inceput. Si nici n-a fost asa de inspaimantator. Da, desi au loc tot felul de aventuri si calatorii periculoase, chiar ma simt in siguranta cand citesc.

Acum a capatat aspect de basm oriental, imi aduce aminte de Alladin (nu, nu cel de la Disney) si imi lasa aceeasi senzatie de confuzie pe care mi-o creeau fructele nestemate din pestera duhului. Se pare ca n-am crescut atat de mult pe cat credeam.

Ah, si ar mai fi o fraza stresanta ce tot apare de-a lungul cartii si care ma face sa cred ca imi scapa ceva…”dar aceasta e o alta poveste, si va fi povestita la vremea ei…

Citesc Povestea fara sfarsit. Pentru ca aveam nevoie de ceva usor si dragut. Pentru ca nu-mi place neaparat genul fantasy, dar povestea asta e altfel, nu e pentru copii, sau copilaroasa, e, pur si simplu, copilarie…traita, gustata, visata. Imi aduce aminte de povestile pe care le inventam, le simteam putin fortate, dar erau ale noastre si ne prinsesera in jocul lor. Imi aduce aminte si de tentativa mea de a scrie povesti cu zane si spiridusi. Am incercat sa pastrez inocenta personajelor, sa ma joc cu ele, sa inventez ca pe vremuri. Dar cuvintele mele erau prea stangace, sareau si se rostogoleau, actiunea era trasa de par…Aici nu, curg lin, povestea e simpla si naturala, scrisa cu putine cuvinte, asa, ca pentru orice copil, indiferent de varsta.

Dar nu pentru asta o iubesc. In treacat, mi se pare ironic sa te numesti Ende si sa ai numele legat pe vecie de o poveste fara sfarsit…Altceva mi se pare, insa, irezistibil. Implicarea cititorului e sclipirea de geniu, nu povestea incalcita de pe taramul Fantasiei. Sunt un copil care citeste despre un copil …care citeste despre un copil…iar tu, care citesti aceste randuri, nu esti altceva decat un copil…care citeste despre un copil …care citeste despre un copil care…

…mama se intreba cum de i-au dat aluia (Al Pacino) atatea Oscaruri. Eu ascultam asta:

„The hair… They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls… just wanted to go to sleep forever?”

Mi s-a parut bizar sa te intalnesc asa, neasteptat, pe seara. Eu eram eu si tu erai tu. Intre noi, distanta aceea pe care o impune bunul simt, normele societatii traduse in ceea ce numim respect si nevoia de a-ti pastra integritatea si de a nu da buzna peste viata celuilalt. Nu puteam trece peste faptul ca, dincolo de pielea aceea moale la care visasem, se ascundea o alta persoana, cu alte mecanisme interne, cu alta poveste, independenta de vointa mea, straina, nu crescuta din mine, o data cu mine. Cum as fi putut incalca limitele? Cum as fi putut abuza de bunavointa cuiva? In seara aceea n-am fost in stare… Si ti-ai dat si tu seama. Simteam acut zidul de carne care ne invelea sufletele. Simteam cum ne separa gandurile si lumile. Toate abordarile mele obisnuite erau inutile. Toate conventiile sociale cunoscute nu faceau decat sa impiedice si stanjeneasca. Oboseam si ma obosise gandul.

Asa ca a trebuit sa inventam un alt sistem…

Yes, the first thing that caught my eye was the new shampoo. I mean, it took him ages to learn what kind of shampoo I use. He usually called me from the store to ask me again. And all of the sudden, a new bottle popped up in our bathroom. And not just any bottle. This was a refined, high quality shampoo. Very expensive! I used to fantasize about how my hair would look if I’d tried it, but I never found the guts to actually buy it. It just wasn’t me. And now it was lying there, on OUR shelf!

My first guess, OMG, he wanted to make me a surprise, how sweet! How did he know?? But then I realized that it’s not his style to risk and buy me something I might not like. And he couldn’t possibly know. The next thought, probably some cute girl advertising fooled him into buying that expensive product. I didn’t really care at the moment. I just wanted to try it.

So I had one nice, spoiled bath. But his reaction…his outburst when I got out of the bathroom. I’ll never forget it…Still makes me shiver and hurt inside.
„You used MY shampoo???”
„Ours!”
„No, MINE, I…bought it for MY hair! I want to have something for myself”, he yelled.

I just couldn’t understand at that time. Was he going through crisis? Was he trying to gain some sort of independence? Redefining the inner self? The need to own something, apart from me? I couldn’t tell.

It took me a while to figure it out. He wasn’t upset because I used his shampoo. He wasn’t upset because we shared so many things that one couldn’t possibly tell us apart. His silly rage was hardly a declaration of independence. No, he didn’t cry for himself. No, not life on his own, no change, no redefining. It wasn’t him who chose the stupid shampoo. He didn’t even buy it! It was simply a gift from her! So he could feel her closer when she’s away. And that night I smelled like her…and that was just too much for him to bear…Cause his adolescent fling was not that much of a fling anymore…

That night…I didn’t exactly grasp it, but I could feel it for the first time…the dark clouds of divorce rolling thunders over my family…

We turn and toss, love and hate, one day is white the next is black, isn’t it so? Struggling against each other, falling into pieces, picking up the trash, keep on going!

I hurt your arm, you hurt my flight, we couldn’t choose between what’s right. Or wrong, awfully wrong. But do we have the courage to admit it? I step behind, you go to far. As always, forgetting how terribly different we are. Is it good or is it bad? To go on like this without knowing what’s in store. Without owning the slightest piece of certainty about each other. Without even guessing where this ride is going to take us or whether we’ll finish it or not. We’ve been told it ends somewhere, over the rainbow, beyond infinity. I suppose all that’s left to do is look into your eyes…

„It’s gonna be alright in Old LA tonight…”

It’s the weight below us
And our fate before us
Like a rolling thunder
Rolling up from under
Don’t ever leave this way
I know it’s getting
harder, but hey
If your world should crumble, yeah
And the rain gets in
Running through your skin
Soaking you outside in

The rain … see it falling
But I don’t know how
long it will be
Until the storm is over
I’ll wait
I will

Like the years of silence
To the growing violence
Like a rolling thunder
Rolling up from under
Don’t ever leave me this way
Wait a little longer, yeah, stay
Through all the night
I tumble, yeah
When the rain comes in
I will shed my skin
Losing it from within

See the rain … it’s falling
But I won’t be leaving your side
Until all is over
I’ll wait
I will

So many lifetimes you’ve
been waiting for it
All through the good times
When you tried to ignore it
You hesitate
It’s come too late
You hear the sound
Of when wheels engage

When the rain comes in
I will shed my skin
Losing it from within

A-ha, Rolling Thunder

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O pata gri intr-un ocean de culoare.

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