The Best Series

I enjoy watching movies. Maybe just as much as I enjoy reading books. Of course, I also watch series. I already have shortlisted some:

M.A.S.H., Friends, After Life, Seven Seconds, Dr. House, Six Feet Under, Band of Brothers, The Twelve, Unbelievable, How I Met Your Mother, Rome, Broadchurch, Little Fires Everywhere, Gilmore Girls, Line of Duty, The West Wing, Fleabag, Please Like Me

But the foremost series will remain ‘The Wonder Years’ (1988), a series about family, friends and the eternal swift passing of time. Each episode is a small treasure, inviting to reflection. I highly recommend it. It will do wonders for you.

(Picture Copyright)

The trouble with gifts

'What do you want for your birthday?'

'Something beautiful. But don't spend a lot of money on it.'

'Fine. I'll make you some tea.'

What A Circus!

It’s really hot in Bucharest. With this heat, one might think people would lay low and save their energy. But no. Running around, fidgeting, panicking.

A piece of eye candy to help us relax and smoothen the rhythm.

Reputation

We are with the family at a restaurant. The food is brought. I do not know why, but I suddenly brush my hand against my neck when the plate with linguini is put in front of me.

‘Do you want me to bring you a bib, madam?’ asks the waitress.

I smile because this is usually something I make myself from napkins whenever I eat some food with a lot of sauce, but I decline the offer.

The waitress wishes us to enjoy the food and leaves.

My nephew, sitting on my left, gets closer to me and whispers:

‘Eme, you’ve been around here, haven’t you?! It’s obvious because they knew you wanted a bib.’

'All the promises I made to my father' - Ioana Maria Stancescu

This book is a symphony of roles. The roles of being a mother, a daughter, a wife, a lover. All are minutely presented in this book. We live in a world where roles are assumed since birth, and it felt quite encouraging to watch these roles in full deconstruction.

Intermezzos constantly occur with Ada, the main character, presenting her memories. There is so much frankness, gentleness, and beauty in the way they are recounted!

And all of the above have as background, even though low-pitched sometimes, a cruel, frightening disease that ruthlessly cripples the body and soul.  

This is no book to be read on a reading spree because it has a lot of truths to share with the reader and hastiness would only truncate the reading experience. Also, this is no easy-to-read book because one would feel, here and there, a deep sadness and a hint of pain. But this is a book for those that still believe in good, well-written, honest and, above all, transforming literature.

Why did you become a writer?

There is something about this question that leads to the idea that one can choose. Well, I did not choose. It just happened that I became a published writer. But I must say that before that I was a storyteller.

I guess I interfered the most in the process of becoming a published writer when I sent emails to various publishing houses and tried to make my work get published. That’s really my part in ‘becoming’ a writer, for it is here when I had an active role.

While the texts… well… I do believe writers are vessels. They just are the means through which the meeting between a story and its readers is facilitated.

Thus, I come before you and write: I did not become a writer. I was a writer far earlier than I could account for. It’s just, I had no idea, that’s all. But it’s been a while now since  I know. And I am.

Fruit

As they say, good people are repaid with good fortune. So here we have the two peapods that grew on our balcony.

My husband believed in these plants and now we see these peapods as clear result.