Masks

For there's no mask
without the purple blame.
which cuddles into soft erosion,
a wise man whispered in the morning,
in an oblivious, but yet soared motion.

I looked around me.
And at myself.
And realized the stage I'm on.
'cause there's no mirror and no stones.
But only masks to look upon.

I searched for answers
and I was told:
"Despair not at their heavy tone,
and keep your mask forever on".

Response

Yesterday I saw a snail jumping out of a window. He was happy. Happy to finally try out the sensational bungee-jumping. I met him afterwards at a dinner table. He was sitting right next to Robin Hood. He told me that he had given it a lot of thought and decided upon joining a different kind of Army. I asked him if he really still believed in the power of good. Snail told me he was fed up with such a question, turned on his spirally coiled shell and flew off using his stalked eyes.

Since then I have been hearing about various attacks upon rich people. And about snails.

Moon

A few years ago my nephew used to call any lighted bulb as moon.

Christmas is almost here and whenever I hear carols, I remember the lights of the Christmas tree from my uncle's house. I do not know why, but the lights installation in his house seemed magical. I used to watch it in silence while I was perking up my ears, hoping to catch uncle G. slipping the present right in my hands. I loved spending Christmas day in uncle G.'s house. Maybe because of the happy face my father had when together with his brother, my uncle, started caroling. They usually sang old carols, honoring the memories they had together.

People are always talking about Christmas spirit, about the goodness and joy, about giving, and most of all about cherishing. I cannot say for certain if I truly understand the Christmas spirit, but I surely have memories to keep it alive.

Moon!

A figure of dance

Around me people are dancing. And their moves are characterized by despair, longing, hope and sorrow. I am muttered by their courage, and also by their suffering. But it is a dance and I cannot and must not interfere. I must respect their choice of moves, no matter how much it torments me. Still, I hold on to the most impressive of them: he gently caresses her cheek, looks her deep in the eyes, takes her hand and presses it onto his chest, where his heart beats so fast. He then brings her closer to him, he touches her forehead, playing with her fringe and before letting go of her hand (with tangible pain) he softly presses his lips on her left shoulder.

Snow with chances of… Are there chances?

I think my upstairs neighbour lives in Siberia. He must be. Otherwise I cannot explain the noise going on in his room late at night and very early in the morning. And the cold gets so heavy that he pulls to his bed all the furniture in the room: bookcase, table, chairs, desk etc., to keep him warm during his sleep. Early in the morning, when he wakes up, he pushes them all to their proper places, and rushes to the bathroom. Typhoons and lightnings must fight for his attention, while he clumsily reaches for the comb. That must be his first worry: One must look incredibly handsome! Then he goes to the kitchen and, against a dreadful earthquake, he manages to drink his coffee while sitting.

Oh dear, and I thought the heavy snow outside is the most horrible meteorological phenomenon.

Beautiful People

All around the globe people are complaining about the worsening of human relationships. Almost no one believes anymore in the kindness of others, and fewer talk about beautiful people they once met and were impressed with. And so I thought about taking the initiative and give my thanks to perfect strangers that gave me a grain of hope in the goodness of people. I chose to thank strangers because I consider their gesture even more uplifting.
I would like to thank:
- the manager of Edu Publishing House.
- the lady in Amsterdam, which I stopped on a Thursday night two years ago, and who helped me arrive at my destination. Not only did she took the map of the city from her purse, but she took the time to look over it with me and helped me localize the street I was looking for. When we said goodbye she gave the map to me, explaining that she knew how to get home and I was in more need of it.
- the lady in Vienna who, noticing our lost look, stopped and without us asking "Please, can you tell us where this street is?", she gave directions and wished us a happy trip.

- Irene for being an inspiration in order for me to start writing. 

- Suzana Bantas, which I met in September 2011 at one of her own exhibitions in Casa Armatei, and who encouraged me not to give up on painting. 

P.S. And the list remains open J

In search of an anthem

There are moments in life when your perspective changes and you desperately need motivation for your newly found goals. In such troubling times there is only one alleviation: your own anthem. As they say: if something ain't, you ought to invent it. And so I did. I made up an anthem to sooth my quivering. I gave it life and I pinned it on my window pane so that anytime the sun rises or goes down, its reflected light could gently caress the ribboned spare of my thoughts.