Into...

... nature and playing.

I insist.

Gratitude

I play and play. But not when it comes to gratitude. Praise to the good spirit found in family members, friends, and strangers. Long may you live!

And a song that may or may not be related to gratitude. But I know that my sister loved it a few years ago, and I listen to it today with the same joy and gratitude because she is, because I am, because we are. Let's be, friends!

I Am Young!

I don't know if people feel that I am the youngest, but I have often found myself in situations where I had to prove that I am legally and adult.

A long pause from such occurences led me to the (wrong) conclusion that, okay, now I'm a grown-up, I have wrinkles, thus I no longer need to prove this.

Murphy and his laws are always with us! In only one evening, I had two such moments, less than half an hour apart.

 

The first occurence

I went into a grocery store because some peaches caught my eye. I put a few in a bag and went to the checkout. From somewhere to my right, I heard a woman's voice.

"Give it here, mama’s girl!"

Obediently, I handed her the bag, she weighed it, told me how much it cost, and I handed her the money.

"Please don't be angry with me! But until I heard your voice, I thought you were one of those kids who come here from school on their way to home. "

"Don't worry," I laugh happily, "it's no problem."

"You say that, but there have been people who got really angry and spoke to me so rudely!"

"Well, there are much worse things in life than people thinking you're younger than you are," and I smile gratefully at her for sharing this with me.

I leave the grocery store with a big smile on my face; I may not be that tall, but I am young.

Incident two

I walk into an Arabic butcher's shop to buy some tea, of course. I quickly choose a box and the man behind the counter tells me to take a meatball.

"No, thank you!"

"Come on, take it!"

"I don't want it."

"Why don't you want it?"

"Because I don't want it!" I reply cheekily.

"That’s no excuse, you have to take it."

I realize that the man is insisting out of kindness or a sense of trading, so I give in, seeing him standing there for a while with his hand outstretched toward me, holding the tray. I take a meatball.

"You’ll eat it, yes!"

"Yes, I'll eat it, I promise."

"That's good, that's very good. You take care of yourself, okay?!"

I leave laughing and sink my teeth into the meatball. It's so good that I almost want to go back and apologize for being ungrateful and thank him for insisting that I eat something so delicious. But I'll make it up to him someday. For now, I'm enjoying the kindness of strangers, which also goes through the stomach and rises high, high, very high, where the smoke of our thoughts sometimes clouds our perception of the beautiful things around us, and it, the kindness, dear kindness, helps brighten up the things.

The Moon

 

Feminist Writings – Laura Sandu

Ideas, diary excerpts, questions, poems, chronicles, and articles. That's how Laura Sandu's book could be briefly described. But going further, regardless of the form in which they were put, the words take shape, playing with preconceptions, fears, and hopes.

Here it is, a must-read. And an excerpt.

"Literature belongs to everyone, but what do we want it to be, first and foremost, when we teach it, translate it, sell it, popularize it, write it, and interpret it?

Do we want it to be heritage, a national legacy with infinite potential, which must be 'saved' from oblivion and degradation? Or do we want it to be, above all, a contemporary body of expressive structures, with the extraordinary ability to make us understand—by appealing to our empathy and other affective and cognitive abilities—the present, history, and the possibilities of the future?"

My book, a jewel-like object

When the book you wrote goes out into the world, you no longer exist. In the sense that the power you had when it was a manuscript has vanished. Now, the book is its own master, and readers are entitled to like it or not.

By relinquishing control, more out of necessity than choice, you learn about tolerance in ways you never imagined. In a selfish way, control returns to the author when they find out that their work is appreciated, applauded, or promoted. So I was very happy to regain control (fortunately for the book, this regaining is short-lived; and fortunately for me, this time, I have experienced regaining control several times this year) when I listened to Aditi talking about my latest novel, 'Laura Rise-Detained'.

Then, the praise settled and gave way to another feeling, much more beautiful and lasting. Gratitude. When your love of books is reflected in someone else's love of books, you understand that you are understood. And who doesn't want to be understood?!

Thank you, Aditi, for your kind words about the book and about the behind-the-scenes life of a writer!

In the video below, you can listen to Aditi talk about my book between 19:51 and 21:37 (only in Romanian).

Work