Sunday, May 29, 2011

des beautes noires

Comme tout le touriste qui se respecte, hier je me suis fait un peu de temp pour profiter du festival de teatre de Sibiu, pour voir au moins un des evenements programes. Et bien que j'aie passe assez de temps dans le centre- ville, j'ai a peine reussi a voir le meme evenement deux fois. Il s'agit de musique et danses de Carraibes- une ambiance de noir et de couleurs tres vives et biensur, des rythmes enivrants de la musique. Conclusion apres ma premiere journee au festival: superbe!

Des danses ancestrales, on dirait....les instruments et les mouvements des danseurs te ramportaient dans une autre culture et civilsation ou tout est exprime par la musique, les couleur, la joie de vivre.

Saturday, May 21, 2011


This day's no longer what it used to be.... the fun and joy of what should be a celebration are scattered in the winds among the raindrops falling on my cheeks... I think of you and knowing we can no longer meet and chat as always, and laugh about the silliest things is shadowing this day. I can't possibly think of this as being a celebration, my celebration, as I remember right away it used to be yours as well, and nothing seems the same all becomes a sad day, mournful early morning, followed by a day of routine when I keep on smiling like an old puppet, stuck on the same face routine.

Right now I could use an angel, I could use you by my side, to hug me, and comfort me, to laugh together while eating ice cream, and then to share things, and maybe to have another chance at listening to you more, to look for you more and try to waste no time with trifles, but with you. So precious but few moments...I would multiply them dozen times and it still wouldn't be enough, that's how wonderful you've been to me and to so many people. And yet, despite all theories about travelling in time, I know and I'm afraid I have lost you forever, my mind and soul are dry and longing, knocking at doors forever shut, waiting for things that aren't there and dreaming of things that are never meant to be... And then the only thing that's left are memories- soaked in tears, whenever they show their little heads... And thus I end up hiding them into the depth of my heart, as long as they stay there, I forget, I leave behind the happy memories which bring with them the sadness of present realities. Too afraid of the pain, and too fed up with it I start filling the shelves with surface things- another pair of jeans, another invented problem, lack of money, or time; another course, a movie, a bottle of perfume, photography. Yet nothing is enough after a while, everything pales and fades away, it wears out like a one-layer paint trying to cover old, rusty stains and which would eventually let see the ugly truth beneath....

You know what they can run, but you can't hide... Anyway, if everything's been very puzzling from my quite confusing late-night words, here it goes, plain and simple: I miss you Co so much, I miss your spirit, your warm heart and energy, your beautiful smile, I miss the light in your eyes, your modesty, your crazy sense of humour, your everything.

Sunday, May 15, 2011


I've tried each day to set myself into believing that the best way to listen to the sounds of nature and to bathe your eyes into the wonders of the world is to do it all by yourself, thus avoiding distractions, or getting strayed. It's the grapes are sour story... The easy way out in any situation.

And yet there comes a time when doing things on your own is no longer that much fun, but rather tedious and heavy burden. Just walking in the forest, or going to a concert, instead of filling your heart with joy and exhilaration, leaves muddy traces over an already ailing soul, and a tremendous feeling of exhaustion. You get so tired of it all...

And since you keep smiling, somehow I daresay, stupidly, some lines come into my mind... The way I hear them now in my mind they belong to Freddy and were written by Buck Ram:

Oh yes I’m the great pretender (ooh ooh)
Pretending I’m doing well (ooh ooh)
My need is such I pretend too much
I’m lonely but no one can tell

Oh yes I’m the great pretender (ooh ooh)
Adrift in a world of my own (ooh ooh)
I play the game but to my real shame
You’ve left me to dream all alone

Too real is this feeling of make believe
Too real when I feel what my heart can’t conceal

Ooh ooh yes I’m the great pretender (ooh ooh)
Just laughing and gay like a clown (ooh ooh)
I seem to be what I’m not (you see)
I’m wearing my heart like a crown
Pretending that you’re still around

Thursday, May 5, 2011

veiled image

white fragile petals flying through her long curly dark hair were dancing a waltz, while the spring winds were an orchestra players. An inaudible tune was visible somehow in the gentle movements of all nature elements around. The richly- dressed branches, flowers and petals, lost leaves,little creatures- joyful butterflies and bugs- they all follow the hidden, but precise rhythm of a tune only they can hear.

The air around is sweet but fresh and life- giving, rich with fragrance and vibrating with expectations. The veils of the night are closing in, bearing with them the mysteries of what's to come.