"Everyone listen to what you say. Friends listen to what you have to say. Best friends listen to what you don't say."
Sunt rani care se deschid la auzul cuvintelor. Sunt altele care apar atunci cand cuvintele se lasa asteptate ... un raspuns ce nu mai vine, adancind cutitul ce l-am azvarlit singuri in noi, pe care asteptam ca cineva, candva, sa-l scoata ... Sunt rani vechi, cicatrizate, peste care turnam amintiri si uitari. In toate suntem noi.
Zilele acestea am invatat ceva nou. Frica de a ne expune, de a ne arata pe noi insine, de a cadea si de a plange pe umarul celuilalt. Si cata nevoie avem de asta! Cineva drag mie mi-a spus ca trebuie sa ies din cochilia mea, sa cer ajutor, atunci cand trebuie, atunci cand am nevoie ... help, a lovely word. Yes, indeed ... but when you can ask for help from true, honest, sincere friends, from people that you love ... A ne expune. De ce nu? Cu totii suntem oameni, cu totii avem grijile de zi cu zi, cu totii avem nebuniile noastre.
A ne dezbraca de Strenght. Hmm...I? A arata vulnerabilitate. Acea vulnerabilitate adanca, infipta in sange, ce curge prin vene, care vine din adancuri, care se numeste Sensibilitate, care asteapta un comfort, o intoarcere adevarata, un brat de care sa se sprijine. Dam jos mastile. Ne dezbracam de ele, deja prea uzate pentru a mai putea fi folosite. Caci adanc, in spatele lor, ceva ... suflet, inima, ganduri? ... arde tare de tot, si le-a distrus. Ne debarasam de "I can do it, I can do it, I can do it", putin cate putin, pentru o singura data (Da Doamne, te implor, da Doamne, sa nu fie pentru ultima data, Te implor, in acest razboi, dintre mine si Tine, te implor, sa nu fie pentru ultima data). Lasam la o parte armele pe care le-am avut, protectia pe care am dat-o si ramanem cu Amintiri. Si-n Amintiri revarsam Emotii. Adanc, infipte in suflet. Aici am ajuns.
One beat, two beats. One step, two steps. E atat Rosu in fata ta, pentru prima data ... pasiune, vulnerabilitate, vase de sange, lovituri care nu s-au vindecat, amorteala durerii, e atata Rosu ... pentru ca e adanc, pentru ca ai ajuns la Tine.
Ne revarsam pe noi pe foi de hartie, pe caiete cu spirale, colorate. Pentru ca lumea e gri. Ceea ce e in noi, ceea ce folosim, ceea ce tinem cu adevarat, e colorat. Si incepem cu Amintiri, dulci amintiri, care ne-au dat toata puterea. Masti ce cad una cate una, Strenght al Inumanitatii din tine care se topeste incet, asa cum zidurile din tine au inceput sa cada, unul cate unul, doar pentru o persoana la care crezi cu adevarat. Ne debarasam si de asta, si de protectii si de "I can do it", si ajungem in Marea Amintirilor, in durere, in nevoia de a plange. Si cadem, de data asta pe uscat. Cu fiecare cuvant pe care il scriem, cu fiecare soapta pe care o aruncam, care se intareste cu fiecare pas, intr-un strigat tacut, adanc, care te face sa cazi, din nou. Si plangi cu adevarat, atat Human, cat si Inhuman, incep sa planga, sa se lase sa cada pe podeaua prafuita, sa planga pana totul se invarte in jur, pentru ca ai tinut prea mult, adanc, in tine, pentru ca speri la un sunet, la o miscare, pentru ca speri, din nou, ca cineva, sa fie aici. Si pentru ca stii ca e ultima sansa, pentru ca ai mers prea deep, pe un teren prea vulnerabil, din tine insati, pentru ca te-ai debarasat si te-ai dezbracat de tot, in Iertarea pe care acum, incerci sa o faci auzita la capatul celalalt, in inima cealalta. Pentru ca acum, in oboseala propriilor batai, mai mult decat niciodata, ai nevoie sa simti caldura unei alte inimi.
Sunt rani ale cuvintelor, ale non-cuvintelor, ale amintilor, ale gesturilor. In toate suntem noi, asa cum noi suntem in toate momentele de beatitudine, in epifaniile sau viziunile noastre. Si trebuie sa ne culegem pe noi de jos si sa mergem inainte. Da, inca ne mai avem pe noi insine cu noi, in propriile noastre calatorii. Pentru ca TREBUIE, pentru ca avem ONE SINGLE LIFE and it is ours. And we have to live it with us inside Itself!
I tell you this because i know protect what´s dear, don´t trade your soul 'cause there´s nothing left around you and there´s no place left to go
All you can, all you can you gotta take this life and live it!
Nu mai vreau Tacere. Nu mai vreau Indiferenta. Nu mai vreau Superficialitate. Nu mai vreau aceasta durere, bine infipta in mine, in trecutul de ieri. Pentru ca peste ea am turnat Iertare.
I just want to rest. On a green field, looking at a blue sky. Or at a grey one. It can even rain on me. Small drops, one by one … I wish I could run on a wet green field, feeling the ground and the water underneath my soles …
Why bleeding is breathing?
I wish I could take a pencil and draw my own world. On a green field, now full of tulips, and take all the good things from my life and put them there: a good book, a green bench, also roses, of course, a good friend, a long walk, a sweet dog, a blue sky, a gentle wind, lot of ice-cream, and my bag full of Memories …
God, how I miss writing! Real writing, where I play with words and colors and my feelings and I feel so deep inside that I am me …
I miss good books. I miss summer holidays, where I could stay on a green field, reading a good book, thinking. I miss good people. I miss walks on a green park and I miss listening good old teachers. I miss my power. Yes, guess I am missing myself.
I climb in a Tree where I can see the World and I take in my hands the entire world, staring at it. You see, it is like a globe and it is so tiny now … I move it in my hands, seeing the oceans and the forests and the people. Like in Snow White, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall …”, I whisper to my globe, to show me the future, to give me a meaning … the wind is blowing and it is cold and I am alone in that branch, up above … what is down?
I see yesterday and my dreams. The world is now full of Superficiality, of Nothingness, of Hypocrisy, of bad books. I am learned to give up goals and to hug Superficiality, to stop involving so much. In books, in people, in memories. I used to believe … in something.
But you see, even here, on this Tree, I feel the taste of water in my mouth. There are times when we stop, when we draw lines and analyze our lives. What have I done till now? If I am here, how my Future will look? Can I do it? Do I want a Future that is different from my vision, do I like this life that is said to be mine, do I deserve these feelings, who is here, who is not? Why aren’t they here? Faults. And they are mine. Tiredness swallowed by angriness, enclosed in that little thing called Life. Yes, I remember those thoughts and my struggle to escape those waves. I remember voices who were telling me that this was my fight and I had to decide alone. The only thing they didn’t know was that I have never known how to swim, the only thing I didn’t tell was that Memories have always been here and that this water is a fall in an old-forgotten Memory.
I touched the bottom of the sea, and I retreat from the world that I now have it in my hands. I learned to breathe in water and I let that other part of me took control. Frozen it. Lift me up in ice. And I did it. And I learned my lessons, but I am still in this Tiredness, because although I want it or not, I am a human being.
LIFE. Life has taught me that 1+1=2. I said 1+1=3. Even 4 or 5. Life has taught me that People are here to go away and Loneliness will always be here. To catch me, to heal me, to hug me, to love me, to accept me. This is the only thing that you can get. Life has taught me that Hell is a place on Earth. And even so, Heaven is also a place on Earth … who you are? What you want? Life has taught me to fight for Dreams, because it is only I who can destroy them or give them the cloth of Reality. Illusions vs. Real. What is Real, what is Illusion?
Life has taught me to be happy for every new day, for every new memory. It has also taught me that things can end when I least expect it. So take your own moments and live them, be you. I become colder and stronger, although the Human is exhausted and It is sleeping. Or at least tries to. I become a fighter and I criticize everything. People – main target. I have always searched for humans who read and have ambitions. What is a person without ambitions? Be a teacher, a lawyer, a doctor, make a difference, live your life, but have an ambition for yourself, for the Future. Because it is the only way you can respect yourself. I cannot waste time with people who have a blank page instead of a Dream. Because to tell you a secret, Life is too damn short, and I involve too much. In work, in relations. The World is black and white, full of Superficiality, full of Hypocrisy, full of narrow-minds. I decide to create and draw my own world here. And I am so proud of the people that I have chosen to be here, in my soul …
You see, something happened today. I was walking home, and I was tired. As tired as yesterday, when I didn’t see anything in front of my eyes, when I couldn’t smile. And in this Tiredness, a dog stopped in front of me and it was looking at me with that lovely eyes. I pet him and then it jumped in my arms. I pet it again, letting its head on my arms. When I let it down, it jumped and it started to run so happily … jumping once in the air. And I started laughing, although the street was empty. Yes, this is the reason why I help or I am here for friends. In a sunny day or in storm day, in the days when I cannot help myself, in the days when I go away … Because making them happy makes me smile, although I am floating in Tiredness, although I am so fucking scared of being unable to do anything anymore, of my future, of my power. Yes, this is the reason why 1+1 =3 for me.
People are also good. Life is a bitch most of the times. People don’t see us, aren’t here when we need them, don’t appreciate, don’t see their own lives. And this is sad for them. But there are also important people, extremely rare, indeed, that make all the difference and you just hope that for these people, for having them here, and for letting them REALLY know you, you shall have the day of tomorrow in front of you.
Yes. I just want to rest now. On a green field, having a blue or grey sky above myself. Let it rain. Let it be sunny. I miss many things. I am too tired now. I want good things now. I have drawn lines and I have arrived to a conclusion. Cannot change myself, cannot live without dreams, don’t want to live if I have to be superficial. I have asked myself many questions and I have given most of the answers. I let that globe called World fall. I cannot be part of It if it has so many bad things. This is why I have decided to create my own world, in the middle of this one. For all the people, I advise to ask themselves the following question:
Life is made of days in different colors; some of them are so grey and full of fog that we cannot see the day of tomorrow; some days are so shiny, full of rainbows, that we remember of ourselves and we want to jump in that rainbow of hope.
There are also moments when the sun is hidden in darkness. Total eclipse of heart. Darkness falls in our road and we are so blind by this eclipse that we cannot see the butterflies which are flying near us. Life is movement.
Happiness. Sadness. Hope. Strength. Coldness. Broken wings. Bliss. Dreams. We wear all the feelings inside ourselves, we are born with inner voices and we have a meaning in this life. But people are the ones who destroy or build us. We walk day by day on a road of spring or autumn or winter or summer; in our walks, we see unknown people who are moving on different direction, we see trains of life, and in this huge sea of Life, we dare to write our own Destiny. In this walk we meet people who gave us clothes of happiness, of sadness, of hope, of coldness and of strength, of dreams. Because we are what we were born and we are all the people that we meet in our long or short journey.
Swinging in Memories that day. There are people that come and go. There are people that we love so much that we don’t want to let them go. And for these people memories never fade away. A step back in time – finding again arms that we love, old friends that never go away. Here to say “stop”, here to listen, here to give gestures, here to offer Words, to a slave of Words ... We always try to search ourselves. Some of us are so stubborn to find perfection that they choose to stay alone. In storms, in sunny days, in wind. Some of us ignore Superficiality in relations and cannot give it in any forms. I fall in the past, I felt it again that sweet cold protection, in which we were playing with words and feelings. And we were laughing. I was really laughing after so many days. Giving up the last mask that I had. Giving up the last broken smile that I kept. Yes, I needed that day and I needed that meeting with the past.
Friends. God gave us our family; thank God we can choose our friends! Everything that is called Life starts in Friendship and everything that wears the name of Friendship cannot be treated with Superficiality. Old good friends, in which respect melts in admiration and love. Old good people who caught us once, still here to make us laugh and take both of our hands… it will be ok. Truman Capote. We all need a hug and 3 words: it will be ok …
Old good friends and new good friends. Knock, knock on Life’s door. I am still afraid, behind these frozen walls, of Illusions, of I. But I needed that rain of words so much, and I needed remembering Memories so much! Because you see, I am naked of Dreams. And in that day, somebody gave me a new cloth to wear. Because it is too cold outside to be bold-naked of dreams. And in my try to breathe again, somebody whispered my name so close to my heart and someone else took my hand and whispered again, so close to the heart, that waiting is over...
Nothingness. There is Nothing, I am Nothing, I have Nothing, I feel Nothing, I am Nothing once again, there is Nothing. Emptiness that hides SO many things, emptiness filled with pain or hope or smiles or memories or all of these.
People that we love, people in which we dare to hope, people who had taught us so many things, and still people that we fear ... let them NOT be another illusion in the great illusions of the universe. And you were in darkness, where tears fall one by one in every new day, where feelings died one by one and your heart stopped beating. And now, in your glimpse of the past, you hear it again. One beat. Two beats. Heart recharge with dreams. Yes, now it beats again.
Because …
It rained with Memories and Words and Gestures on my road. And the Rainbow is still on the sky.
I danced a tango with my hybris. We danced together on an empty floor, going to and fro, up and down, listening to the music of the war inside myself. And none of us has fallen, and none of us has given up …
Give me back my Innocence cos I wish to dream again
Like I never outgrew my old playground
Where the sun sets slowly with a golden crown and the leaves sing lullabies 'round vacant swings
Give me those wings
Let me fly once again
Like I did way back when
I would gamble and win
To lift me high above the din
Of the Future we see
Does it hold something for me?
Does it? I was dancing for my Future. And for Illusions. I was challenging my hybris. I was challenging myself. And I was challenging pain. Calling it back, proving that this time I am the one who leads. One step, two steps, three steps. To and fro, up and down. And in my dance and in my fight, I rejected yesterday’s vulnerability. I am naked of dreams and my wings are broken. But I still dance on that empty floor, challenging. Everything. Too thirsty of Life, of Real, of Everything.
I needed once to be human. But I wasn’t allowed. Because Silence met me on the halfway. Present here, present there. And in the darkness of yesterday, lying on the bottom of the sea, you lift yourself up and you start swimming. Until you arrive on the dance-floor, and you get up from your knees. Starting to dance again.
Now you feel the ground beneath your feet, you feel your own steps. And you go ahead, closing your eyes in front of Fear. Fear of Life, fear of Rejection, fear of Yourself, although you know they are so near you, taking your hands in this dance. Steps going up and down, steps to and fro …. Until you hear it again, coming with a warning that you bury inside of you, deep, in your heart ... You know that this time you were the one who was calling it, who was testing it, who was rejecting it. But you simply wanted to know if it was so real as your memory pretended to be. And in that moment your steps become heavier and Fear takes control. For one moment you want to give up, because you have obtained what you wanted, you already defeated Tiredness and Energy took control, but in front of pain, everything dies. And dying changes everything. But this time it is a human pain, a gentle pain, smooth under your skin, here only to remember you of the existence of clocks, and the other one, who had violated you, hitting you so strong and out of the blue that you had to fall on your knees. “Do you remember all that you write in "God-games"?
“Tick-tock, tick-tock. Here I am. You played too much, you said too many times “NO”, you killed too many feelings, you wanted too much, you believed too much. In humanity, in Good, in Life. Tick-tock, tick-tock – FEEL it now, FEEL it in you, FEEL it deep, under your skin. Tick-tock. Hear it; is it hurting? Step on time, step on memories, step on every tick and tock that you didn’t listen. Breathe … why don’t you breathe now? Why don’t you dance now? Cause in all your games, you forgot one thing: ME.”
But I am dancing now, dear God. With all that Silence, with all that Fear, with my Disobeying, with my own hybris. And the only prayer that I should have said back then was Paler’s player: “God, protect me from myself!”
Clocks inside of you, heavily stepping in fear, remembering the reason of this Tiredness, calling back vulnerability and fragility. For a moment you want to stop, to give up, but arms in which you wanted to jump, to feel the warmth of humanity, call you back … and now strength is the one who leads the dance, on the iced dance-floor, because now you have got your answer.
No more vulnerability. No more fragility. No more kneeling.
Because you have danced with your hybris, and both of you are still dancing …
Ma joc printre cuvinte. Incerc sa le gasesc un … in-te-les, incerc sa le gasesc culoarea potrivita, sa conturez un stil pentru a putea spune mai mult decat simple cuvinte. Sa privesc dincolo de ele, pentru a ma putea privi pe mine. Dar asa cum am marturisit, mi-e teama de foaia alba. De pagina din fata mea, de gandurile care incearca din nou si din nou sa se transpuna pe o coala de hartie. Outside. Asa ca ma las sa alunec in teama aceasta, pentru ca nu mai pot face altceva. Singura modalitate de a lupta si poate de a castiga e de a renunta la orice forma de impotrivire. Asa ca sar in aceasta teama si ma joc printre cuvinte. Pentru ca am nevoie de ele, pentru ca ma pierd printre ele, pentru ca mi-e teama de ele, pentru ca sunt prea eu printre ele, si pentru ca par ireale. La fel ca mine.
Idei si amintiri care se ciocnesc intre ele. Da, totul se misca in lumea de afara. Primavara in aceleasi vechi culori, pasari, oameni, mare de sunete. Mare de superficialitate. Si aici e tacere. Alunecand in ea incet, razvratindu-ma la fiecare pas, dar coborand in ea incet, sufocandu-ma si innecandu-ma in aceasta tacere, pana ce spun, da, aici poate ca e mai bine…
Unde vrei sa ajungi aici? Ce vrei sa spui? Nu stiu nici eu, pt ca da, nu mai stiu nimic. Vreau sa fug de mine, iar la fiecare pas pe care il fac, ma intalnesc tot pe mine. My entire life is an irony … in linistea in care am cazut si in incercarea mea de a gasi ceva real, in propriul meu agenbite of inwit, caindu-ma pentru fiecare “nu” pe care l-am spus, indoindu-ma de TOT, fara sa-mi dau seama, in acest somn al meu, spuneam inca “Nu” … Disobeying. God, am I able of anything else except disobeying? Am vrut sa caut ceva REAL in Life. Am vrut sa prind eternitatea, infinitatea aici, in viata. Poate ca da, am renuntat la ideea de a gasi Pace aici … Freedom vs. Peace. Si da, viata inseamna Doubting, si da, poate ca in viata nimic nu e Real, poate ca cel mai bine e sa ignoram totul, sa ne lasam dusi de valurile vietii si sa plutim in Destin … oamenii vin si pleaca. Noi ne miscam, ne schimbam, ne lasam sedusi de culori, de aparente, de miscare, de viata, ne pierdem in hore fara sfarsit si uitam sa ne mai privim pe noi insine, si uitam ca linile se vor trage la un moment dat, si uitam ca da, cu totii avem un sfarsit. The Ending.
-When we dead awaken, we find out we have never lived. –
Ibsen. Da. I disobeyed even here. Nu am acceptat Ignorance. Superficialitatea. Nu am acceptat ca zilele sunt colorate de zeitati, sau oameni, de miscarile astrilor si de vantul de afara. Pentru ca VREAU SOMETHING REAL! Aici, in viata. Because Death is too Real, and too Peaceful.
Privesc. Ca la inceput. Ca acum. Privesc timpul, il simt cum se strecoara printre degete si imi strang pumnii pentru a-l prinde. “Ia-ma inapoi in tine.” Momente evanescente, care se fac nisip in pumni stransi. Te razvratesti impotriva ta. – Writing - de aici ar trebui sa incep. "The guilty one" for all that I did. Stop writing. Si te afunzi in propria ignoranta, si acorzi superioritate tuturor. Pentru ca you disobeyed. And you wanted to write your own destiny. Si te afunzi in durere si in tacere si cazi in incercarea de a fugi de tine insati. No more writing. Dar in propriul somn, in propria teama, iti gasesti confesiunea aici, pe hartie. Si incepi sa scrii pentru a spune adio. Childish dreams. Si scrii. Idei, amintiri, idei, amintiri, cuvinte, totul invartindu-se in jurul aceleiasi idei, si in acest somn, in aceasta incercare de a fugi de mainile care incearca sa te prinda, pentru ca sunt prea reci, prea inumane, ajungi sa te trezesti in propriile brate. Pentru ca te-ai aruncat in Cuvinte. Pentru ca ai strigat dupa ele, pentru ca acum nu le mai auzi, dar esti in mijlocul lor, in marea lor, intr-un ocean al tristetii, in care Viata a inghetat.
Life. Da. Primavara a venit. Totul se misca, totul trece pe langa tine. Sunetele de care ai fugit, sunetele vietii, s-au aruncat spre tine, in tine. Marea vietii. Intr-o mare de tacere. Si acum privesti, doar privesti. Si simti Cuvintele lor aruncate spre tine, lovind. Asa cum loveau cu o saptamana inainte. Dar acum doar le privesti. Privesti cum se izbesc de ziduri, cum se sparg in Tiredness. Tiredness that you hate, tiredness that you don’t want to accept, tiredness which grows with every sound, with every stupid question. But your Ego is now protected. Behind these Stoning Walls. Pentru ca in spatele lor, inoti spre suprafata. Pentru ca iti spui ca da, propriile amintiri sunt reale. Pentru ca da, sunt tot ce am. Si tot ce voi lua.
Timp, privit cum se misca fara a acorda nici o importanta. Totul ar ramane neschimbat. Totul va ramane neschimbat. Pentru ca in tot acest timp, te-ai retras in tine. Si pentru ca te-ai aruncat fara sa vrei in scris, in incercarea de a gasi ceva … si in plimbari lungi, cat mai lungi. Pentru epifanii. Pentru a-ti demonstra ca inca mai poti face asta. Pentru a-ti creea amintiri. Pentru a iti simti din nou fiecare pas. Si te-ai retras in tine, cand toate mastile s-au spart. Coala de hartie nu are niciodata masti. Invelisul e cel care face toata diferenta. Pentru ca aici am fost mereu prea eu. Iar barierele pe care le simtim in fata unor randuri, in fata unor scriitori, in fata unor oameni, sunt de fapt amintirile pe care nu le stim, sunt amintirile care lovesc si ridica valuri si ziduri … cuvintele din noi sunt pline de amintiri. Cuvintele auzite fara amintiri sunt cuvinte pline de ziduri crapate, de oglinzi deja sparte. ..
Dying inside of me. E atat de ciudat. Ajungi sa te intrebi ce va mai ramane … pentru ca fiecare planset, fiecare infrangere, fiecare “bun-ramas” ucide o parte din noi. Si te intrebi ce va mai ramane viu, la final. People change. Few of us never change. And this is painful. Born with a conscience that cannot be changed. In spite of any attacks. One of epiphanies. Pentru ca fiecare inceput e o noua iluzie.
What’s your vice? Mine – the illusion …
Trenuri cu viteza luminii, care opresc pentru o clipa. Coboram la o alta statie, hoinarim in lungi vagoane, suntem aruncati din tren si ne trezim singuri, pe o linie ferata, la marginea marii. Auzind sunetul unui alt tren, care se indreapta spre noi. Dar nu putem sa ne miscam. Si in toate inceputurile pe care credem ca le scriem, nu observam un singur lucru: e acelasi tren ca cel de dinainte, ca cel caruia i-am zis “bun-ramas”. Pentru ca suntem croiti dupa un anumit tipar, pentru ca ne repetam greselile la nesfarsit, pentru ca mereu cautam acelasi lucru, dar ii aducem un plus de “up-to-date”. Pentru ca suntem loviti de aceleasi lucruri si totul e un vesnic deja-vu. Fiecare inceput e un nou sfarsit. Atata timp cat nu ne acceptam pe noi insine. Atata timp cat nu privim acest tren in fata, acest tren numit Viata si ii spunem unde vrem sa ne duca. “Sunt asa, si asa, si asa. Si asta m-a marcat. Si mereu imi va fi teama de asta. Si vad asta peste tot. Pentru ca fiecare pas pe care il fac imi aminteste … dar poate ca e timpul sa o pornesc spre jos.” Pentru ca nu mai exista nici un tren de pierdut. E o simpla sina ferata, prafuita de omenire, de atata omenire. De toti oamenii care au trecut pe aici, care au fost la fel ca mine. Sina ferata, prafuita. Destin. Si daca vreau sa o iau in partea cealalta, si daca vreau sa o iau pe jos si sa-ti arat cat pot sa alerg si sa-mi construiesc propria linie, atunci n-au decat sa ma loveasca toate trenurile din lume. Pentru ca e acelasi. Si daca viata e numai Iluzie, atunci si asta va fi o alta iluzie. Nu exista incepturi. Doar Un inceput in construirea noastra. Care se ridica, se sfarma, se darama, se face cenusa, sau se imbunatateste ...
Da, mersul pe jos implica mult prea multe. Nu doar trenuri care ameninta sa loveasca la orice pas. Oboseala de sub proprii pasi. Peroane pustii. Drumuri pustii. Caci oamenii de obicei nu o iau pe jos. Si vei ajunge singur. Si vei auzi sunetele din tren, din departare, vei vedea luminile care se apropie si se indeparteaza de tine, dar vei gasii atat de greu oameni care sa o porneasca, pe jos, ca tine. Da … tren care se opreste in fata ta, in fata unui peron pustiu. Si inauntru e cald si e zgomot. Si zabovesti o secunda, pentru a o lua din nou, pe jos. In singuratate.
Life is knocking at the door. And you feel fear. Because now you see the ground. And you feel fear that your sea is now frozen. And you won’t be able to break that ice.
Words, words, words! Cu cateva ore inainte de Inviere. Mi-e teama de ele, ma las sa cad in ele, incerc sa vad unde ma duc, renunt la … la ce? Imi amintesc de Arghezi acum, de cautarea lui a glasului din lucruri si din tacere.
“In fiecare lucru tacut, auzul descifreaza o soapta. […] Adie piatra, canta lemnul, suiera huma de o dospire interioara. Ti se pare ca sunt lenes; ascult […] Un glas nu mai tare decat al scrumului rupt, mai mic decat o furnica, misuna pe dedesubt … “
Si apoi de Joyce:
”Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise gold, the russet and green of apple orchards, azure of waves, the grey-fringed fleece of clouds. No, it was not their colours: it was the poise and balance of the period itself. Did he then love the rhythmic rise and fall of words better than their associations of legend and colour? Or was it that, being as weak of sight as he was shy of mind, he drew less pleasure from the reflection of the glowing sensible world through the prism of a language manycoloured and richly storied than from the contemplation of an inner world of individual emotions mirrored perfectly in a lucid supple periodic prose?”
Si apoi de Woolf:
"There was nobody. Her words faded. So a rocket fades. Its sparks, having grazed their way into the night, surrender to it, dark descends, pours over the outlines of houses and towers; bleak hillsides soften and fall in. But though they are gone, the night is full of them; robbed of colour, blank of windows, they exist more ponderously, give out what the frank daylight fails to transmit - the trouble and suspense of things conglomerated there in the darkness; huddled together in the darkness; reft of the relief which dawn brings when, washing the walls white and grey, spotting each windowpane, lifting the mist from the fields, showing the red-brown cows peacefully grazing, all is once more decked out to the eye; exists again. I am alone, I am alone!”
So many Words. On a blank page. Trying to break Silence. Trying to build Silence. Because “At the Beginning, it was the Word”. But before Beginning, it was Silence. And words spread from Silence. And they are swallowed in Silence.
“Cand scapi pe jos un pahar sau o farfurie, faci un zgomot specific.Cand se sparge o fereastra, se rupe piciorul unei mese, sau cade un tablou de pe perete iarasi se produce un zgomot. Dar cand ti se frange inima e tacere. Ai crede ca un lucru atat de important ar trebui sa produca cel mai mare zgomot din lume, sau macar sa fie o ceremonie, cu talgere lovindu-se, sau sunet de clopotei. Dar e tacere si aproape ca ai vrea sa auzi un zgomot, care sa te distraga de la suferinta.”
……....
O noapte cu ploaie, o noapte in care luminile se sting pentru a se aprinde din nou. O noapte in care fiecare Eu se pierde in multime. Si trebuie sa simtim minunea Invierii. Dar cei mai multi dintre noi se gandesc la ce vor gasi pe mese, acasa. O alta pierdere in multime, o alta pierdere in sunet. Si in aceasta multime, te simti pe tine. In luminile care se aprind, in cuvintele aruncate fara a fi simtite, in sarbatori in care TREBUIE sa ne obosim, pentru …?? … , in toate rasetele si in toate povestile si in toate cuvintele acelea, fara inteles pe tine, te simti pe tine, singur. Pentru ca e o alta oprire a trenului, pentru ca e o alta priveliste a vietii ce isi continua drumul si fara tine, ca orice s-ar intampla, va exista mereu o primavara, un copac inflorit, o ploaie rece, un Paste. O Inviere. Si mesaje care incep sa curga in telefon, pentru ca “asa se cade”. Quo vadis?
I think I shall walk. Because I want to be myself. To find myself, to test myself. Because I have one short life. And today it is raining on my road.
Si in ploaia de cuvinte, si in asteptarea luminii, iti amintesti de ceea ce ai scris tu insati, candva, pe undeva ...
“Si uneori indraznim sa ne oprim in drum, sa privim in jur, in suflet, sa analizam ce este dincolo de cuvinte, de mesaje, dorind sa patrundem mai mult, sa gasim un sens, o coerenta, un crez, orice. Intrucat, atunci cand ne oprim, cand dorim sa vedem ce este in spatele ratiunii, a pasiunii, a vietii, un intuneric pare a ne invada, intrebari de genul “si totusi, de ce fac asta? Eu sunt cea care controleaza totul in propria-mi viata, sau o mana invizibila ma ghideaza, o fiinta care nu sunt eu e cea care conduce? Si atunci cand trecem de toate astea, cand intrebari de genul De Ce ? ne guverneaza, vedem ca un destin bland sau crud se joaca cu vietile noastre. Indraznind sa spun ca Dzeu a scris totul de dinainte, ca in fiecare dintre noi el exista, atunci tot el controleaza totul? Viata planificata…lipsita de sens. Si dincolo? O ambiguitate scaldata intr-o liniste care te sperie, o alta viata ridicata si inchinata divinitatii. Si noi unde ne aflam, care e rolul? De a distra, de a juca un rol definit de mult, fiind inzestrati cu niste calitati si defecte, aruncate la intamplare…”
Ouch. Cu trei – patru ani in urma. The same me. Se spune ca suferinta ne apropie de Dumnezeu. Pe mine m-a indepartat. Se spune ca ceea ce nu ne omoara, ne face mai puternici. S-a mai spus ca ceea ce nu ne omoara, ne face sa ne dorim sa murim. I think both are true …
Am incercat sa ma opresc. Am incercat sa ma indepartez. De mine. Sau de a ma gasi reala. Cred ca mi-am rupt un picior in mersul acesta pe jos, cred ca am obosit un pic cam prea mult. Cred ca ar fi trebuit sa ma opresc. Si in fiecare oprire a mea, si in fiecare refuz de a ma destanui si a ma expune, de a-mi expune propria moarte, m-am intors mereu si mereu la o pagina alba. Si am imbracat-o in culori. Atat cat am putut. Pentru ca doar asta mai exista acum in mine. Si e timpul sa o iau din nou la pas, si sa ma arunc in teama, si sa merg pe solul de gheata, din nou construit, pentru ca drumul e lung. Iar trenurile vin si pleaca. Sau e doau unul ... Iar linia s-a stricat.
Cuvintele se pierd si se arunca in Gol; voci ale constiintei, in incercare de a-l regasi pe Ego. Cuvinte. Si Tacere. Totul aruncat in gol, totul aruncat pe o pagina ce inca mai asteapta sa fie scrisa ...
P.S. Maybe the only thing that I have learned from all this is to accept my own Disobeying. In every movement. It is in my nature to disobey, to give everything for one destination, to "go ahead full steam"; in mazes of conscience, one question remains: how can I know I'm right/real?
Şsst! E calm aici. O ţară fără soare, fără clădiri, fără oameni. Ca un peron al lui Paler. Şi aici nisipul încă mai e ud de valurile unui p...
