How can I go on,
from day to day
Who can make me strong in every way
Where can I be safe,
where can I belong
In this great big world of sadness
How can I forget
those beautiful dreams that we shared
They're lost and they're nowhere to be found
How can I go on?

the road nowhere

there is a fight going on... it's between us and God. It's, apparently, a matter of pride. Since the very beginning we have been given this Earth to treasure and respect, and since the same very beginning we seem to obstinate ourselves in destroying it. Everything that was once so splendidly full of life and beauty, so promising and alive is now deserted, empty, dry of any meaning . And as if this weren't enough people have started now to destroy the inner natural- feelings, hopes, ideals.... People no longer dare to express openly what they feel, because once you open your true self, you become vulnerable- you get hurt, others take advantage of your feelings, and in time you turn to stone. It's the easiest and most logical thing possible. And then you come up with your own rules- harsh ones, restricting ones for you as well as for the others. And if these rules are broken this becomes then the unimaginabale crime ever. It's not that bad that everywhere you turn your eyes you see human debris, but your crossing the street on red becomes definitely unacceptable. Then it seems that our pitiful laws and rules are much more important in our eyes than respecting nature, life and beauty. God's laws are forgotten because we want to feel better in our new role as masters. We have the power and hence we set the rules, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

question

Has it ever happened to you to fall in love with a guy who in his turn has fallen in love with someone else? Well it has happened to me... this brings me to the impossible love that tears me apart. Do I tell him or do I just give up the entire idea as I already know what the end is?
Well, as I'm terribly coward when it comes to love, i will probably keep it to myself. It's no use riscking to lose what I have so far for a dream. Dreams are meant to fail anyway, so why invest in them? Especially when intuition tells me this would be just a one way trip...

Anyway if more about this topic is to come that would be in French, as French seems to help me better get it out

pluie

Se promener seule dans la pluie a la nuit, entouree par le vent d'ete- c'est comme l'amour. Le vent, c'est la caresse douce du bien aime sur ton visage sur ta peau brulante. Le parfum du foin, de la chaleur humide et la pluie, c'est le parfum du bien aime, le parfum de son regard, c'est son ame et son amour pour toi.
Donc se promener seule n'est pas si moche que ca, c'est en effet se promener avec son bien aime car la nature- la pluie, le vent t'entourent tout comme les bras de celui que toi tu aimes.

a better self

One of the greatest vanities is to think you can make people better. They are the way they are and will become better, that is if they become better, only if they decide to. Otherwise all the good intentions you might have are doomed to become ashes, and your fall will be greater. Everytime we settle our hopes on someone, blindingly believing that person could start having the same dreams and ideals just because you have them for him/ her there will come one day when all those ideals of turning the world, or just a single person better will crumble all around you just like the multiple puzzle pieces of a broken mirror. And everytime you start gathering all those pieces in an attempt to recreate your world, it's gets hellishly hard. You finally come to understand the Sisiphus's myth, and you finally see that's life- ups and downs, probably more downs, but anyway as long as you find the guts and strength to start picking puzzles again , there is still hope.

brancusi

.... words are powerless to utter eternity. let your self engulfed by the breath of true art and aspiration, feeling the warm chill of marble, its whiteness almost transparent and simple as a virgin soul....

puzzling

Has it ever happened to you to lay your hands on a book that was so intriguingly capturing that you can no longer leave it behind...? Yesterday i must confess something i no longer thought possible happened. Quite often lately nothing has been able to draw me into it as it used to before... but then Eugene Van Itterbeek's "Journal Roumain" did the miracle. As one might as well guess from the title the book is about the impressions and feelings that Romania has aroused in the heart and mind of a foreigner. The pages are quite a lesson some of us have needed for a long time now, it's about the miraculous beauty in simplicity that Romania has. It is quite shocking to see the richness and complexity of Romanians, their simplicity and still depth of spirituality.
There's no room for superficial here, God and nature are all omnipresent in people's minds leaving deep traces in everything they do in their daily lives, carving their character, building their personality.

Besides, the Romanian villages seem like some oasis of the past- full of deep significance, purity and God; their beauty is so mystic and lost in the Western civilisation, and so regretted by Mr. Itterbeek... and so searched and longed for by many who come here to find themselves....

reading his lines made me wonder- why do we sometimes so obstinately think what we don't have is so much better? Why so many of us dream of promised lands, of superficial, material things, when the obvious is we have something valuable, a unique treasure that riscks to be lost or praised by others only, while so derided by us who own it?

pensees...

je crois avoir connu l'amour et malgre ce qu'on en dit generalement , c'est pas tres agreable... ca plutot heurte et donne de la souffrance... est-ce pour ca que les ecrivains en ont ecrit tellement? ca semble a la pomme d'eve et d'adam- la pomme de la connaissance- une fois qu'on en a goute il laisse un gout amere mais sublime. c'est la vie et la mort , la joie supreme, mais aussi les soupirs, les espoirs decus, les reves si proches de la realite qu'on pense les pouvoir saisir dans notre main, comme on pourrait faire a un pomme, par exemple. quand tu connais pas l'amour, il te manque, une fois que t'as ouvert ton ame a l'amour il laisse de traces profondes pour toujours. Et donc alors, on commence a se demander: a quoi ca sert? a quoi bon l'amour si tout ce que ca emmene c'est pas la grande joie et l'exuberance?
a quoi ca sert, sinon, peut-etre, a mieux comprendre ce monde, a mieux se maitriser, a apprendre la patience...

the only poem i remember having studied at school at Spanish... it's quite superb and full of imagery...

ANDALUZAS
CANCIÓN DEL JINETE

Córdoba. Lejana y sola.
Jaca negra, luna grande,
y aceitunas en mi alforja.
Aunque sepa los caminos
yo nunca llegaré a Córdoba.

Por el llano, por el viento,
jaca negra, luna roja.
La muerte me está mirando
desde las torres de Córdoba.

¡Ay qué camino tan largo!
¡Ay mi jaca valerosa!
¡Ay que la muerte me espera,
antes de llegar a Córdoba!

Córdoba. Lejana y sola.