De pe hartia cu cerneala verde

28 May 2017 In: Uncategorized

Uneori ceva imi da putere si fiecare rasarit imi spune ca traiesc.

Multumesc pentru fiecare gura de aer, pentru fiecare durere de cap, pentru piersicile coapte care mi-au ciobit dintele , pentru ca ma simt  in stare sa trag prima linie cu creionul si sa vad cerul limita imaginatiei, pentru ca ma simt obosita, pentru ca dorm maxim 4 ore , pentru ca mi-e frica, pentru ca vibrez de la muzica din mine, pentru zambetul pe care il desenez inca instinctual pe caiet atunci cand vreau sa zambesc si daca n -ar suna acum telefonul poate , poate nici n-as resimti atat de puternic efectele zapuselii de afara si as multumi pentru ca am invatat sa multumesc acum mai multi ani.

pachetel de primavara

19 Apr 2017 In: visuals



4 Dec 2016 In: Eng.

Yes, Lord, I prick!
Life is not easy —
But You know that —
and I have too much on my shoulders!
I speak of my prickles
but thank You for them.
You at least
have understood me,
that is why You made me
such a pinball.
How else can I defend myself?
When people see me,
my anxious nose
searching for the fat slugs
that devastate the garden,
why can’t they leave me alone?
Ah! But when I think proper,
I can roll myself up
into my hermit life.


i am the storyteller

13 Aug 2016 In: Eng.

I was the girl that used to hear music whenever a love scene was in sight. Whether a young couple was kissing at the corned of the street or an elderly couple was holding hands i was there smiling and orchestrating symphonies in my mind. i thought i would make a nice video director one day and went to sleep with a smile.

 A dreamer, they called me, walking the earth with my heads in  the clouds all the time, could never figure out the X in the equations but always able to make up a good story about who x was and why he was always hiding.

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13 Aug 2016 In: Eng.

we are all made of flesh and bones, of stone and water of light and darkness but what makes us us, is nothing short of a miracle. Do you believe in miracles?

travel the world or how i met murakami

5 Jul 2016 In: Eng.

They say that if you really want to, you can just pack one day and leave. Any voyage is unique, they say. It’s something which you should do now, at this age, otherwise you might never get a second chance. It’s something that you were given the chance to do, while others were not that lucky. A chance is still a compromise. It’s not a gift, as long as it comes with a now or never.
It’s fabulous. It’s new, it’s extravagant! We’re the center of attention and the violence around us takes human shape.
It all slows down around us, moving in slow motion as we keep running, with our velvety hearts hidden inside a tin carcass pulsating on the rhythm of drums, almost like growing bigger and bigger, ready to push out of our chests. We melt a little each day, and we shyly flicker like the winter’s sun, trembling like a ship who just survived a storm at sea, like a tree blooming after a hard cold winter, small, frail buds on every branch bravely opening one after another, exposing its soul to a yet weak sun.
The line of the heart has been drawn a long time ago: Bucuresti -Tokyo.
I was standing, reading Murakami’s ” A wild Sheep Chase” while waiting for my train in of one of Bucharest’s busiest subway stations. Just your average Wednesday morning, on my way to work. When finally the train enters the station with a considerable 10 minutes delay, i close my book and say to myself: This would never happen in Tokyo! Read the rest of this entry »

love is …back!

24 Feb 2016 In: Uncategorized

Waited for a good while to hear any news from this guy. Welcome back mr Ashcroft! Looking fwd for some rock star attitude in “These people” .

Wear thy beauty

15 Jul 2015 In: Eng.

“Babies can see our sad eyes behind sunglasses,

Children can see our tired eyes behind all the makeup

and true artists can see beauty in age.”

Last week on the train, I met this young mother holding her young baby girl.  Next to her,  standing tall and carrying a big bag of baby stuff, her older son, not older than 7. The stroller could barely squeeze in between the others standing in the train cart.  The young man sitting next to me got up and gave his seat to the mother: An amazingly beautiful Malay lady. I could not take my eyes off her face: Radiant beauty, a little make up and a navy blue and fuchsia silk shawl.  Her baby girl reached out for me with her tiny soft little hand and gave me a little slap on the arm then smiled shyly and hid her face in her mother’s bosom.

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oh sad day ,oh month of May…

30 May 2015 In: Eng.

“Do you think music has the power to change people?”
” Sure,that can happen.We have an experience -like a chemical reaction that transforms something inside us. When we examine ourselves later on, we discover that all the standards we’ve lived by have shot up another notch and the world’s opened up in unexpected ways. Yes, i’ve had that experience. Not often,but it has happened. it’s like falling in love.”_ Kafka on the shore (H. Murakami)


8 Mar 2015 In: Uncategorized

il était là dans un après-midi en regardant le ciel à travers le trou d’une feuille d’arbre”.

Asa a inceput. Cand prea mic sa constientizeze cat de pretioase vor deveni acele ore de plictiseala, dupaamiaza, cand toti copiii dormeau linistiti el se refugia in gradina. Se ascundea de bunicii care cautau sa-l ademeneasca la somn. Se ascundea cat de sus posibil printre ramurile copacului cu cel mai des frunzis . Acolo a auzit pentru prima data cum in minte ii rasunau vocile celor intalniti peste zi. Cuvintele lor reveneau si mai revenea o voce mica ce nu parea a lui, dar care parca ii rostea cuvintele fara ca el sa se oboseasca. Asculta linistea printre toate acele glasuri iar vantul, vantul ii mangaia chipul ca o alinare de mama…