Saturday, 24 September 2016

I met Pir

I met Pir.

I had better not! But still, now that we crossed each other’s paths, I keep pondering how to tackle this.
And so I arrived to a Romanian site that explains the meaning of the word pir. Pir, a masculine noun, is an everlasting ryegrass with procumbent rhizome, coarse leaves and green flowers (Hm, I totally disagree since I like the color green), grouped in ears, that grows freely, hindering the development of cultivated plants (now, I really am out of my wits with modesty).

Well, a pir has deep roots, and it is very hard to pull them totally from the ground it considers as its own and it is not willing to share with anyone. So is the story with my Pir. It has set its jaw on not letting me grow next to it. And I haven’t even threatened to pull it out from its ground. Then, I would have understood its frustrations and malice. Maybe my Pir is the same as the one from the story ‘Veverița Șugu și câinele Hapciu (Squirrel Șugu and dog Hapciu)’, it cannot bear that I may have stolen its thunder.

I know how this story continues. I wonder how mine will.

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