Timisoara at night

Breizh

desert

It was normal times in a barely normal world, and people were as normal as they could be in those circumstances... And she was just another girl with her own dreams and aspirations, with her own longing and unrequited feelings. And yet she didn't dream of daring and didn't dare to dream about too "fancy" things... All she ever wanted was for someone to hold her hand, to hug her from time to time, and yet, in spite of the simplicity of her desires, there was no one there to do that for her. And in spite of the obvious of her situation somehow, she kept dreaming and hoping that maybe some day her continuous attempts to share her affection and to give would bloom into something worthwhile all this waiting.

But then there come the days when desert finds shelter in her soul, a consuming burning desert that bares and leaves behind nothing but wilderness and seclusion. And those days are harder to cope with each time, the dryness seems harsher and more life-taking than that before... And yet, she humbly hopes to get that simple touch when 2 people are holding hands, that maybe sometimes someone would care enough for her to reach out his hand for her... maybe sometimes...

the rained face of the city

costumes

Rickshaw

It's Friday! It's Friday!....

masques-FIT 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.

Sad

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 anymore...it 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 say....you 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.

Soledad

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

Violet and purple and a little bit of green

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.

Springtime

Spring has finally arrived making its definite presence among the trees around, in the delicate and fragile grass tickling our feet, in the playful sun rays chasing ladybugs in their lively flight, and people's hearts.

Not surprisingly, surrounded by so much life and joy, people are happier and more open and more lively than some time ago...They twitter, chat and laugh, they enjoy the warmth of the spring days, the fragrance of the coming may nights, the breeze bearing on its wings colorful petals in their ballet.

It is spring again and nature and people alike have come to life.

Black and white....

What if one day we would all wake up into a world of blacks and whites and shades of grey in between? Would we still be thrilled by the beauty around us? Would we still be able to even talk about the beauty around us? What makes things beautiful after all? Is it the mixture of dozens of colours and shades of colours from brighter to paler ones? Is it the shape of things? Is it in what they represent for us, what symbol they bear? What is it in them, in their essence that many times excites our senses? Would we still perceive the world the same intensive way in spite of the missing colours?



















I recently woke up one day in such a world....horrified at first at the perspective of
experiencing colours only as remote but profound memories, I set off trying to give the benefit of the doubt to this apparently empty world, cheap copy of what once meant my world...



















My footsteps took me on the entangled paths of forests, under the quite bare trees of coming spring, near dried lakes, and near flowers which, because of my half blind vision, seemed to be lacking any fragrance... And yet, to my surprise I was surrounded by beauty... All colours were missing, my mind was missing colours, and yet somehow, in a strange way the original horror was gradually replaced by wonder at a different way of seeing the world. It was as if the sudden simplicity imposed by the dual tone, made things clearer, and the sensations got stronger and more profound... everything had a fresh air about it...It was like the air you breathe at the first snowing each year- cold, humid and surprisingly fresh.



















There is a conclusion to all this, if you were wondering... Not always does the beauty stay in the details- beauty of nature, of a person. Sometimes, getting beneath the glowing, colorful surface of something/ someone you get to discover the true value of that something/ someone... And sometimes that glamorous surface attracts you like a moth is to a light, and and exactly like a moth getting too close to the light, you end up getting burned. So maybe sometimes, it is better to get rid of the habit of always looking for fancy, bright and "colourful" details in places, things and people. Maybe there's more to them than meets the eye... Just maybe!

autumn again

The autumn breath was in the air again, more powerful each day and darker and colder as time got by. Black clouds running over the city, their eyes never looking down at the people rushing by, trying to find shelter against the cold winds of the city... Who could take a look at them, always in such a rush, always under so many masks? It was a time of rushing by, never looking behind and around, always neglecting details, more or less important; no time for soul, no time for people any more... no time for wonder, for the joy of discovering, veil by veil, one person as he or she is.

And then no time anymore, to really like that person for what she/he is... It might be a true, but rare art to find in people details, trait brushes that would make you like that person. You meet someone, and there is no wonder in knowing that person anymore, you just end up taking them as they are, no questions asked, no "curious eye" to try and see behind the shell. And you stop there, you go out, you have fun, but there's no pondering, no yearning about that person. In the end it is all about the self, in the end we all fight against the fierce winds blowing into our face, we transiently meet people on our paths, but we rarely look at them, at least not for their sake. We never look unless, it is about us and our interest involved somehow, otherwise, people don't really matter. They and eventually us, just end up being some "happy accidents" in someone's life...we meet, we part, we meet again....until we part for good.

just another day....in Paradise?

There are always days in life that come with surprises, sometimes bad and disturbing, others bringing joy to your heart, and both types always come with overwhelming feelings, be they good or bad, as said before.

Not long ago, that is a couple of days ago I came across such a day, a day meant by its significance, to be full of surprises. Well, this day didn't let me down, it actually came with a whole bag of surprises, like Christmas was here again, and Santa brought along his red heavy bag of presents... The "surprise" was very good, indeed, although it is somehow paradoxical to call it a surprise, since I already knew it and its purpose above all was to show me I am still a good judge of character, and that I haven't lost my ability to read people, as they say.

A day like any other, but positive in that it showed me... my impressions on people being right... A surprising day full of surprises that somehow surprised me....and still it was just another day...