Sub un cer inorat

Acum mai bine de 2 luni visam la o Anglie plina de ploi si fericire fugara... Visam la un aer curat si parfum de iubire. Nu pot spune sigur daca am primit ce-am dorit dar stiu ca m-am simtit al dracului de bine aici in tot timpul asta. Ma simt in siguranta si cred ca am sansa sa ajung unde imi doresc. Ma simt puternica. Si totusi vreau acasa... Vreau sa imi salut vechile amintiri, sa le urez Craicun Fericit din suflet, sa petrec Anul Nou alaturi de prieteni si sa imi incarc bateriile pentru o primavara gri, dar frumoasa. Aici timpul trece si repede si greu in acelasi timp si e placut. Pe geam vad curcubee in timp ce ploua, iar in inima mi s-a ascuns un zambet cald, un zambet prietenos, un zambet fugit din camerele colegilor de la parter, din camerele prietenilor de aici. Il voi duce cu mine acasa pentru a-l imparti cu prietenii de acolo. Mi-am gasit linistea.

Nu mai sunt singura...

Acasa

Un pictor, miros si culoare de Paris si Sacre Coeur ... Vise, iluzii sau doar aminirii, cuvinte de genul iertare, uitare, trecut, prezent, nimeni, nicaieri, nimic, azi, aici, acum, eu, tu, noi, totul... Ploaie aspra si rece de noiembrie. Soare iernatic si palid. Vise din nou. Alte iluzii. Frunze uscate, gol, pustiu. Agitatie, magazine, studenti, culoare. Amalgam de praf si stele parasite in al meu suflet contemplativ.

Fie ca e vorba de o carte, un peisaj sau un miros de mancare calda, in sfarsit mi-am dat seama ca nu sunt acasa caci nu, casa mea nu va fi niciodata aici, sau altundeva, decat la mama acasa... Acolo unde peste o luna voi scrie de miros de sarmale, colinde si verdele bradului de Craciun. Desi de la masa cea bogata va lipsi ceva fara de care fericirea nu va fi completa, nu conteaza, voi fi acasa de sarbatori.... Cred si sper ca voi fi mereu acasa de Craciun. Am in fata o America plina de oportunitati, am in fata o Anglie ploioasa si plina de surprize si mai am in fata un drum care pe zi ce trece se distanteaza tot mai mult de acasa... Prieteni e un cuvant ce atarna greu in viata si pe zi ce trece constat ca apar toti mai multi oameni care vor sa fie numiti sub acest cuvant. Prieteni... ii am? I-am avut vreodata? Si daca da, mai sunt? Stiu ca intotdeauna voi avea prieteni acasa... pentru ca persoanele cu care am impartit 18 ani, copilarie si adolescenta deopotriva, nu vor uita ca am crescut impreuna. Am noi cunostiinte aici, si poate ca intr-o zi vor fi si ei prieteni vechi, uitati sau poate nu. Nu conteaza caci ei nu fac parte din peisajul de acasa... Uneori mi se face dor de tot ce am lasat in urma, alteori imi urasc trecutul si as vrea sa il sterg cu buretele doar ca aici nu gasesc bureti. Parca imi e dor de geamul cu priveliste gri si frunze multe decat un deal insorit, catedrala case si masini. Mi se pare uneori ca agitatia din fata ochilor mei e prea mult pentru oboseala pe care o resimt.

Oare imi va fi dor si maine de acasa? Ce inseamna de fapt acasa ? Un cuvant care ieri a insemnat mult, azi imi provoaca sentimente si nostalgie iar maine...

New begining

I don't know for what reason I started to speak and write in English lately. I found out that my life and my perceptions about reality and dreams are complicated and with no possible solutions. I now know that I have friends and I am not alone anymore but as long as you are not here, it is useless. You know I miss you and you do not care about my feelings. I remember I wrote about dreams and the reason why we need them in July and I try to apply those ideas now but I find very difficult to do so because things usually change. I love my window and the view but I still miss my walls and my trees from Romania. I miss my blue walls and my room. It's strange how a crossroad can create false perceptions and how it will persuade you to take the wrong decision. Someone said I need a specific topic to write about but how can I write about something when I cannot write about my own thoughts anymore... I am sick of thinking and of wanting to help everybody even though I know I will end up suffering again. I just want to rest, to sleep...

I will wake up tomorrow, drink a hot coffee and start everything from the begining....

Just words...

I was once thinking writing something but I didn't know what to write about. I wanted to say something about clouds and stars, maybe flying but I cannot find a connection with my artistic way of writing.



God gave me happiness. I couldn't catch it. I was feeling like a baby who was trying to catch in his hands a football ball which was too big. The only predictable result was that, just like a slippery leather ball in the wrong hands, happiness was flying through my fingers. Maybe I've never learned how to catch it. How to throw myself over it in order not to lose it anymore. Or, maybe I was afraid. I preferred to cry slowly like I was ill. This was the difference between me and him: that one dreams about happiness and waits for it and the other wants to reach it without thinking about it. You may be thinking who is him. Well I don't know. It may be my ex-boyfriend, could be one of my friends or could just be a simple "you". I found myself in one of those moods which could be called neutral. It is enough to make one step forward or backward, in one side or another, in order to fly to the sky, or to fall from the sky to the ground.



I miss the pronoun "us". I haven't heard it soon. A single word can fill up the void. One single word is enough so as the sun to rise and that word is love sealed in eternity. That is why I miss the word "us", that's why I may be missing you after all. I'm thinking at quotes or something like "a life full of compromises for just one perfect second" but now this seems useless. Everything seems useless except words because words are the pieces of the puzzle named "the universe". A simple word like "war" can mean a proper fight between two countries or the marvellous battle between the sun and the moon or the day and the night. I also remember an interesting thing about forgiveness, something like a definition: the perfume of a flower left on the shoe that steped over it. I've always tried to persuade the leaves to love the trees. I've always tried to convince the birds to love the sky. And I've always tried to persuade the people to love the earth. I've always been looking for you...



That is why I adore writing because you can mix words in so many ways and create feelings through them. You only need imagination. You need to think more than others do and this is a creative way to play with words. These are the things that made me write like this or, the things you learn in the Academy of Broken Hearts.... This is how words work in a world full of bad things that are usually called like as "love", "kiss", "money" or "happiness". Yet, everything is for me and about me...

Poate ca da, poate ca nu....

In sfarsit pot sa admir toamna, sa ma uit pe geam si sa vad frunze ... Sa ma uit la nori si la vant... Scria cineva undeva ca suntem aici de mai bine de o luna si jumatate.... Mai conteaza de cat timp suntem aici sau cat vom mai ramane? Ne-am adaptat. Cel putin mie imi place, nu neaparat scoala, nu neaparat orasul, ci totul... fara nimic in minus. Daca imi e dor? De ce sa imi fie dor? de freastra mea posomorata? De culoarea marii din camera? Sau poate de prieteni si familie. Nu stiu, poate ca imi e, sau poate nu, ideea e ca nu conteaza. Nu mai conteaza nimic aici, nici macar faptul ca zilele trec si vine iarna. Acasa ... nu mai stiu unde sa spun ca ma simt acasa. Poate peste tot... poate nicaieri. As vrea sa ma tina cineva strans in brate si sa-mi spuna ca visez, dar stiu ca nu visez si asta nu se va intampla. Si ce daca? Acum nu mai conteaza ceea ce vreau pentru ca aici visele nu au limite. O pata roz pe imensul albastru cenusiu al cerului ma face sa cred ca daca ea rezista palida in fata ploii, atunci si noi oamenii, si eu, putem pasii peste locuri ciudate si necunoscute, transpormandu-le in ale noastre, intr-un camin...