Give t snake a place primo 2022 CFGRH

"Give the snake a place primo!"

Felix Rian-Constantinescu

2015

"To go to Eleusine ...

If your life was tied to a place and you didn't hit the sea, You haven't even traveled long distances by land, However, I take you to Atensa to see the solemnity there Celebration of the goddess Demeter, the great, holy nights.

And you will have a carefree heart while you live, And when you go to your ancestors, the soul is relieved. ” Crinagoras, 42, XI.

Mocăni ț a

Once upon a time there was a girl. The girl's name was Ana and she was from a mountain village across the Strei called Coastal Livadia. It was nice because it was a rohmăncu tert complicated.

A boy from a village below called Ponor He liked Ana et and one asked for her tert ie.

She said to him: All right, if we are bears ţ and not lose you me et nor I you.

They got married and were overjoyed. A year later, a daughter was born to them, whom their father named Valeria after a grandmother of his. It was the night of 21 to November 22, 1947 ten minutes before or after midnight ţ ii.

May passed a year S and then following them gave birth to a boy who called him Adrian. It was 1949.

A steal time to tert -four happy tert him. He did not work anything but was good mouth. After a while she worked as a maid. Ha walked tert eg Gardens Summer et listen Guajira Guantanamera.

Then an evil woman set her eyes on Ion. He also seduced her and left Ana and came one night to steal both children. Valeria, my mother was eight years old. She said she wasn't working, that my mother was right. Adrian was lower S and not in tert understand things, to et to that took him from Ana forever.

Anna, my grandmother suffer huge et i love it all via huge ţ a. At first read the book "Ion" Liviu Rebreanu et i thought that he left but to hang himself. Q et and said that he can not turn back the village from where John was mayor two years before, Polly common family. Q AND took her face S and traveled the world.

Went to Ha tert eg S is hired workers Factory marmalade, the best factory workers. He was friends with a girl younger Profira, Fira, coming by train hunger et and being of tert content Her ţ them. After a while a măritară a man Vaida that alcoholism time et and began to beat her whole life ţ has until dying from drink fifties, Fira remaining single S and having only a niece of butterflies et a. Aunt Fira moa et mine.

When working come, its AND and took a portrait photographer Hungarian artist Ha tert eg József Horváth in which S and put a et treang beads et and was dressed in mourning.

She was very sensitive. On strămo et ii they had called Vladislav et and before, Albu.

Well, that's life ţ a. Suffer et and suffer for nothing. Via ţ her no different than by Iuliu Hossu. Muri forty et -five years in 1973. He was born in Livadia Coast, on Friday May 11, 1928, et and died on October 1, 1973 of breast cancer. Their funeral tert kept home on October 4, 1973 in a shabby building block which

then would become tert Gypsies. Sitting at the first floor to the right as seen et your block. The windows were facing Strei.

At the funeral came a many tert tall people.

Came et and Adrian for the first time. People asked him: -Did you come to the funeral?

-Well, I came to Valerica's mother ...

-How do not et you know? E et your mom. Didn't they tell you ?

Her favorite book was "Ion" desired her story was "The S ir yourself Margarita and the word boyfriend was: willed

The exterminated village (live story)

I do not believe those old t et i wasted pages, not et to read. Also write in Word it is not that S i as writing to me et take writing. I think stories are superior novel, if you want to suck all the marrow of life cane ţ ii. Thus, I write live, listening to Louis Armstrong.

He's been a Nomad et ezându the near village Misty S of a large wall of earth S and concrete between an S year ţ S and water, to et a bit like Olt. It was late summer, warm, gathers least ţ in hay field S i i S i took a culcu et on the wall high smoking as Huck Finn et and the serene village before him under the stars with few lights tert e. Tired, some lad pulled et machines, sometimes. Then he saw right in front ţ has to find something. A high voltage pole.

The landscape was the setting for an unwritten play. S knew that the village is a hospital for poor people in front tert world et and that haze et citizens shall poor people. The hospital was parked right where it was S and a castle. Romantic.

Q AND and her head back, do not return with tert of hay smelling Romania S and said: Yo how nice it in Romania! And the head is then turned back S and look overwhelming et it stars. He thought

that po tert tell you until you've seen the world watched each star; not po tert tell you lived until you've seen virtually every star in the party; not po tert tells him et keep counting until you mate star star taking a hand S and putting universe jar like fireflies. See the stars, beat, gave 122.5 degrees head S i saw S and Milky Way S and then saw a large star. Actually it was a shooting star that fell et and fell exactly menhir type Eiffel front ţ 's that last moment its S i realized that resembles exactly a rocket black darkness. But S and missiles have wings.

The blast came unto the house of highway as tert few kilometers best do tert A Ha tert eg, who escaped, et and opposite to MEAT AND you, no. I do not believe those old t et i wasted pages.

***

Saying the Good Shepherd, Jesus was thinking of Abel, referring to the nomadic age of the shepherd. Therefore true shepherds tert are those deeper people. I won't tell you more, it's night and I won't even put blackberries in your mouth.

Tri, me, tri, the moon is up.

But my parents in Coastal Orchard were throwing stones at the train window.

Dire Straits box

There were two necunoscu tert . The morning awoke tert to before dawn to go to work, and she let et kissed goodbye child frowning in his sleep. They were sitting on the beach and had to walk about thirty miles inland. It was February. She cried.

He went to the garage with the ramp too steep. Bulb lit et deprive cubic fountain next to me et take. Behind me et the car were we AND your shelves that were jars of sweet tert complicated, eggplant,

refreshments et and mushrooms preserved, et and three barrels of sauerkraut. The light bulb was too dim. He continued to stare blankly at the cube of the fountain, under the crumbling ceiling.

He opened the gate and looked at the Big Dipper. In winter only the Big Dipper can be seen. Cold air began to spread through the garage like menstrual blood. He kept looking at the Big Dipper, trying to make out the eighth star. Sometimes he was there, sometimes not. As S is love. He turned and saw the white cube of the fountain again. Her eyes closed.

The next moment, without il et and realize what is happening it as a huge cat et il in et do et and began to kiss him insane. He felt ţ it as a song by Pink Floyd. His brain was soaked with salt coming from the open garage. When she left him for a second, she saw the Big Dipper, the eighth star was no longer visible. It was morning tert complicated. She hit him against the wall. Obi et nuiau be silent much. They talked more through kisses. He was still anesthetized Morning tert complicated. Today was the day her mother died, forever, alone, in resuscitation. Now it was like the eighth star. It felt tert she kissed him like death, wild, irresistible, and she felt ţ it that et and working. S and she was an orphan. Shirts shoulders et she was filled with lime blue, as it was yanked sideways S and another. Death must think that is irresistible, it must be reason to ţ and die.

A et to have been designed.

Dead art

I was friends with an artist. I was in S sheet S and tried to talk about books ţ and music, God S and art. Consider books tert ile something not worth il tert and lose energy in the music he liked Korn et and a box of my jazz would have wanted to keep God watch it on women, may be disowned et i cited by chef and art in aesthetics was made by BE tert arise, atoning preferring the TV. A Dionysian, I'm thinking now. I went to college at the same S and fair, he in a bran et single technical art, I theater. I was trying to tell him about directing. I repeat the streets or in pubs that theater is a dead art, something that deserves contempt tert look. Then I was ill et and I give up ţ at, one reason being that I could not cope tert destiny tragic conflict dramatically et and not tert stylish comedy. I longed for salvation, I think now.

Then I started writing. The artist graduated from art to give up ţ at the Art et was tucked into a guild.

Artist nenorocit de destin

I have a feeling tert ie unpleasant et of that going to the Father et and tell him that I write better than Chekhov.

Dad's flint, I'm dynamite.

Then I go a second time and tell him that I no longer suffer because my soul is small and not only do I write better than Chekhov, but I am like Enescu and he will see that, but I am a miserable man of destiny. Dad says: - S alom.

I say et alom.

My father congratulated me et and we shake hands in the dark happy ţ i et i tri et you.

PS. Been two days et and I saw that I mind-n crutches, because I write Quoting Chekhov, but Chekhov wrote without me read me, I did read Chekhov, but Chekhov I do not read me. How stupid a man can be.

Calypso

Motto: "If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you forgive, we will mend: And, as I am an honest puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck to roll call; So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. " - Puck

They were left alone. At the head of the dead mother were her portrait, a young woman in mourning, and a book. Stay in quiet et Tita father reading the biography of Pasternak and his writing.

It felt ţ it as if it arrived in Ithaka, but it took to do it.

Remembering et and glimpses of life tert eyes before he looked tired tert him. He wrote to fill the whole page as at coloring in et school, you had to fill the jar with water views race et and his soul all the pieces of paper .

It was very nice, but then his father dropped the book and turned on the TV, looking at him with a small face.

Well, when parents tert she yells at I do it because you care. People who ţ and speak most beautiful love Least tert in. Do not doubt the love of a father when he has seizures, et and you have, Q. et say. Have so-Nva ţ at. But now he was ready il et and lead the reader to the most secret recesses of society tert him, his eyes gaze down into the depths as door Jacques Yves Cousteau-down like a torpedo belly research vessel et science tert IFIC of life ţ ii Calypso.

When regards AND your life ţ not see anything et and tert he thinks he's an equal Danube as you see with optimism both by how it AND you able to produce, such as creatine. But when you get caught, you get to knowledge AND you really, or at least part of it. S and when you see her or its tert see

them otherwise own life tert complicated, not po ţ and smile AND you as before, the S and smiles et more, eyes grieve tert him. People run away from the truth, but when it comes to give the s i.

After a while his father had died hours after the TV, she began to call the real authors et you that I liked. Stendhal, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Gogol, and I struggled with the wording of not levitate et s you to S place the body et his head on the ground S and breathe sleep living ţ them to no longer live in autism romantist. AND i sat Iara et i still AND you ţ and mother's room.

Then after I read the motto books ţ II said as buys second class or third first book of Shakespeare portraits, the library AND the bracket, "Romeo et and Juliet" at the bookstore in Satu Mare with his father three lei when it was two dollars a lion. Got out of bed et and began to tell me about books tert authorities they buy S and ordinary people who read villages those S and the sad ţ it to be a class more first class of French et and, as sitting, standing, with a library back hair less ţ in încârlion ţ at as if it was windy create tert take, my father appeared in all beauty tert she, with all ages that s time s and yes, if et your best, romance is not a lie, laugh together can for the first time via tert cope, as they all beautiful story tert her books tert oF tHE had reached Iara et i see problems blind of life ţ II they were both hitting us like an armed blind man.

Mankind lived et 're a collective dream, permanent delirium. All fear, anguish, anxiety tert authorities, restless et tile hoaxurile secular manipulation of man by man, et and silence - not of God, but our own, we înnisipim as wax, kicking us. I woke up gradually et and I stopped all the icons without soul who filled my life ţ the illusion et and co et Maruri living now et shock after, when I see what wilderness I done via ţ the S i still like I am in the middle of a field bombarded and turned into asphalt. I need to find the answers to my questions so I can sleep. No et know that those questions, but I'm sure that there are all being tert her my tired sleepless telling me. Ironically, I always had the answer, but I left the questions. All soliloqiul he tells me, taking me as a topic that people are s et up being tert is unfortunate. In addition, they think that ideas are fixed et 're answers that AND have lost questions so all modernity is full of fixisme. Why dogs are those noisy night only S and S and that if Jonathan did not leave David, David had Uriah left for an object? I can not say, but now I found a question lost sense oxygen et and complain Iara et and as na et growth, because as mother says S and elders, every child is born AND you the bread of S i, as I see it, with my own questions in my eyes.

After nearly three hours writhing in bed, I found out the reason, at least one of them, which fails et esc to sleep, because I got married, but anyway, it's Mysteries of Paris, the S of that I all that remains is to turn off the light desperately. The man is a guitar that suffers if the master for whom it was made does not play it. Right now even et and huge sky et out not tell me anything, I have a whole universe of exploding synapses in the brain et i am a world in me. All I have to do is turn off the light like Laura and wriggle for another four hours and watch the aurora.

A et wants to sleep et and all day to read, but I was made a moonlit night in July et and night AND the Moon wake me deep passion and chords cell. My mother wanted to make sure I could never forget her.

Category

What I can say about myself is that I had been through two years of severe trauma, my hair was long, and I could shake my head without hurting my brain.

I had a problem and someone referred me to the high school psychologist, who called me for Child Neuropsychiatry. There, where bineîn tert understood that I did not peel secret, the S teptând it every morning tert single lady psychologist, I could see something that no one sees sufferers Venus, only no et three neighbors intersection tert take on the way to high school.

After a while there was a beautiful nurse, about How many tert few years older than me, which I love, but for people I entered a category that no longer had to go out to the death.

Mr. Joseph Sava

A case of individuation, Mr. Iosif Sava is a passionate soul. When all the people from tert peasants, workers, merchants, active et ti, to rabbis go to die _acasă_ not let anyone tell him where home he received nothing for granted, the et i could go _acasă_ or worse et and could then, in the difficult years - but not heavy years in Romania? - il et and sell his soul et and the Þ Holy Land to reach the West.

Mr. Joseph Sava is buried in Bucharest et ti, cemetery Philanthropy, like you would want to tell the rest of is that his destiny et and the parents tert OF THE S and elders of closely related pity poor but good that whoever received in Romania once alive tert complicated. S and maybe Elohim has received death because several ţ and Israel ţ and are with us than with them.

Drama a man et expectations

Felix always told that's et expectations, which does not leave any earlier living ţ ii. Then she let him go. Time passed and he dealt with all sorts of things, more than his own. Veni et the year that was thirty et and three years, a year in which her eyes had opened as The ţ 's Happy et i could see all the misery of the world. Veni et and a cool August evening in which he had revealed ţ and origin suffering ţ them, if not the world even his. Not because he had done something wrong AND it but simple et and fierce human simplicity. From that day on its S i said this is not the cure, there's nowhere to go, et and new yorkerii are equally pro et your people on his street. He thought sometimes light bulb bullet tert world stage S and draw the curtain that was too worthless.

The way back

I went to my father and said, -Can il tert say that's bad side of learning tert Atul? Higher tert Atul has S and a negative side?

Can I tert tell?

Po tert him? my father asked me.

- Can I tell you in a word? Do you know which one?

-The Ecclesiastes.

My father seemed fully edified.

-A man, keep that all learners tert A small end up to everyone to see the people et and their stupidity et and nothing can take the bitterness, even learning tert Atul, his bitterness remains. A priest.

What did he do? A higher ţ at what I had to learn tert e sang what I had to sing, the rest did not bother, says you have to say et sing you have to play, otherwise do not bother et you, what do May man can tell that learning ţ at breakfast?

-Well, Dad exclaimed, saying several et so on sites.

-And the shepherds are the same. What else can anyone say to a man who went to the ends of the earth and saw everything? What else can be said of such a man?

-About the way back. Begin to make his way back to see how she et and try to stop asking et and shoulder to help. Po ţ and writing et a story about way back.

-The way back. _Return to Innocence_. Enigma. I'm going to look, write et the story.

God on earth

Society is like a demiurge who creates posting et Ament human. Some crush them AND you, some of them senior tert complicated, others mentioned tert hold. Crush et order causes that cause elevation tert area CARE AND you - how con tert keep et the text of the Bible - by those we mentioned tert keep by being guided ţ and the heights tert of ţ and which were offered most often even without it et tie the crush tert . Thus some people become God without God. God on earth.

Swindlers with 88 keys

To my misfortune I only musical instrument to a real tilt tert ie is piano. A et of that time, pressed the fire create tert take, I kept searching for S and I a piano.

First and foremost, the pianos are of various kinds. Grand pianos - long grand pianos, short grand pianos -, upright pianos - cute and stylish pianos -, digital pianos and pianos , various flaps, portable pianos, portable economic pianos. Because I tail - neither long nor short - I et wished even my piano have tail of S and not et know where would be no room for her in the room where I spend my days, but to my terrible misfortune due implacable ţ ii laws of physics - especially that of the modern age - i can not afford even a portable piano economy, be it s and battery.

I was very sad, but today God enlightened me, being able to see that Ezekiel that ţ and middlemen pianos are we et 're crooks.

Once means uncertain, gathers capital et longer fluctuating going to invest ţ ii buying pianos draining from young or not even mo et Succession eager for a life tert complicated newer S and also S and NI et 're old woman cute eager il et retain via ţ of which still gave them a god, especially in winter, or Pa et you. Old people donate to us pianos et 're pre tert s decent. Then come middlemen et i- tert ask him two thousand euro on a heap flea market.

The representatives tert other piano is even worse, being run by middlemen who et him of his license tert complicated. To learn pre tert site an upright piano fucking made of wood, iron et and tin that were found at the beginning of the twentieth century et and one tert and data is required, and when they find out everything about you its ţ i will send a price .

The pain I think I will never be a pianist, but moreover a question deafening me Chase et 're sometimes featured great Ludwig, who tried to be of four years until today et and I succeeded et it no at least once.

Beast

Faith tert A, et pending S and despair love turned me into a beast ferocious vulnerability tert him. We face the tiger S and I feel like tert ip, but whatever happens to me I think, et expectations et and despair. I am a beast of beauty tert s et s not even my ţ and saw the pair.

Beautiful

I once went to college, strolled through the fair bastard et and I had to et expected to go up at the rate that makes shared with other classes. I was sitting in the corridor on the ground floor, on the

right side, where there were only two girls, one of the most beautiful and the other, I think, a badmouthed Oltenian. I'm stuffing into account with friends tert ie, talking to girls like some comrades and beautiful t et and put a hand in et hip rounded S and looked at me over her chest like an old bottle of Pepsi, giving me a smile bright , Impro et ed by Olteanca or who it was, a small, Slabu tert single s and dark that not a heart patient 't et beat beautiful game.

"Let them die fools !"

A et myself saw a fellow class directing, with some et 're years older than me, munteancă, was a girl very intelligent et and even attractive tragedy was that it was not et the beautiful, while I bineîn I understand I'm charming. He looked at me like Caragiale's Catindat - why? - an alien knowledge et 're not et you all the secrets of living ţ ii. One winter day winter I led the market among people rush ţ and home to S and I decided to make a snowman as a child. The most interesting thing is that the S and the balcony was old enough snow, he wanted to make a small snowman as a child.

Let him lie to me

He was an ordinary pab, with big tables in the boxes, in the winter. A boy rags tert forget via tert single gave laps. Dispensed tert six alcohol in summer S and still feel tert it well. At one of the tables where we were walked et 're boys tert him from his time et et and a girl in high school. He went around sitting there, telling stories, laughing, joking, crying to himself, laughing, listening, what's more, in a way it was Charlot. Notice that the menu was made all kinds of designs, as never seen alive ţ 's looking like cave drawings.

-Who did the drawings, he asked?

-A girl. She's going to the bathroom, said the high school girl.

-What about Art? It's concrete as he draws.

-Not. After studying the drawings, the boy asked loudly: -Who did the drawings?

-Moi, replied a girl stylish, good just is the S Eza S i i S i check po et eta.

-E et your paintings?

-Not. -At Sculpture.

-Not. -At Graphics?

-Not. -Not et your Arte?

"No," said the girl, smiling.

N you did not et School of Fine Arts?

-Not. -But why didn't you go to college? You e et you an artist.

The girl laughed and said: -Părin tert they sent me to the Administration tert ie Public.

-Adminstra tert ie Public? What will you do to Administration tert ie Public?

After a pause the boy said: -You draw very nicely. E et you an artist. I should go to the Arts.

Then stop et know what to say.

The high school girl talks: -He is lying to you.

"Let him lie to me," said the artist, as he got up and prepared to leave.

The boy thought, "I've never met a girl like this before, I need to talk to her." But he saw that it fearing its S and took po et eta skin S and coat luxury fearing rejection et and the snobbery t et i said unlike Elena Baltagan, not devo tert action she et and he live in two different worlds. What it means to be punk badly by AND and her father told her that her stupid, but - et and most tragic - to S and his mother told him that his wrong.

The moon through the poplars

I get home on the moon with tired poplars. E morning tert complicated, but I like the S go through Anctarctica Robert Scott. People haven't judged me like a woman in a long time, I haven't judged her in a long time. I went through the cool mornings Buiac tert him alone with God, with pierced. Now when I sit down, I feel my tempting brother coming to me: -Everyone, Mikee, anyone.

I to et a boy darling tert but injected hormones me. No, I'll never ask a year, S and I are crouching brain in the head S and fig trees as walnut kernels. I lift heavy head S and close the gate when poplars number one, two, three, four, five, et six, et seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

Miami - Vama Veche Doar Dus

Her father had millionaire S and had a yacht and a spaceship flying boat type tert -prudential. It's always cabbage et to that just press a button and the sensor vessel is an ellipse S and landing on water near shore or any islands detecting vacancies on water. Then his father retrieves him with the ship. They were Miami et and spoke there the whole band mu tert him. At one point he said:

-In mine! ... With Miami and everything.

He pressed the lever without a good look at it et and then slammed on his departure to tert him back against the wall where she et and pusera belts et i fell asleep from time to time a more drinking a glass of juice.

The ship, called the Rosebud, made an ellipse over the North Pole and crashed into the edge of the Black Sea. The S and crash woke them just after an hour izbutiră out. Until dezmeticiră saw through binoculars military that et placing the name is et up Vama Veche.

He ie et the first ladder leading down into the water, tert taking in hand an unopened bottle of whiskey et and saying gă et keep girls AND the boys ţ and following him: -Let's go to her knowledge et afraid the locals.

Morpheus

It is said that on Saturday the sun goes slowly asleep in the sleeping sky. The world is asleep and stars t et i do not see them put veils of S and pray. Children cry less ţ in and listen to old records elders.

Angels forehead tert authorities girls hands et and smother hours et ir. Trees fill tert Aran cemeteries oxygen. And the memory sings like a sad flutist. What do you want, it's Saturday and you have to die.

Nonfigurativeness

Four stone columns stood down as NI et 're evangelists et you in the temple collapsed et and radio started to dull, yet more light said Goethe, and any dream t et and has its untold, as your et , to ţ and people should complain morning tert of. She stood alone as a rock. A rock in the middle column emi chipped tert hen radio pulses that any woman.

Do not forget me

He entered the Theater et and TV drama seen only S and read the play. The first person I saw in the corridors of faculties tert he was a boy with long hair ran with a grin u S or face. They became friends.

Boy et and it was in time AND it helps a lot. He was always missing something. Affection tert section first.

Then he finds out he's gay. He was mystical.

He walked et and sat with him in his attic suffocating et and spoke about God S and theater.

His friend invited him to creative writing with a famous poet, because he had a writer's block, but he didn't go. He did not need anyone to teach him tert s write, the S and not et tia.

He loved platonic (donquijoe and te) a lesbian high school teenager from home.

Otherwise patrol alone all the time AND the smoking cloth tert and a miscelanee thoughts et and nesuportând see people indifferent ţ and they walked filling the streets. He looked each face S and nobody saw him.

The S i was a kid was happy, reggae Via tert A No fumes, no love hippie, punk arrived without ga et that hair on the cheeks et and black hat made him a one meter eighty Uzzy et i et six. Sitting at home with us AND you Manel et you why the drink, which they believed crazy et and that he had beaten on three of five. With others ţ and two are in tert elegant well.

Her friend told her she was a virgin. Not S i ever imagined that there might be a et of something.

Once come home, arguing with everyone then thought that nobody loved him AND you AND be gay masturbate thinking about his friend.

Then he went crazy, excommunicated the theater full of gays and lesbians and became a mystical semi-heavyweight.

Not tert elegant world, not in tert elegant self et and was SFA et boy of annoyance tert him.

He was about to confess, and the priest told him that our Lord Jesus Christ had been tempted by all but sin.

guest

He had come to Felix on a rather cold day, telling him: -How are you, dear friend? It's been a long time.

It is embraced tert i et country.

-Who is it, the family asked.

He's a friend, I've known .... Senten tert ios, is my guest.

Passed years et the guest would not leave, yes, as in "The Magic Mountain" by Thomas Mann et and nobody in tert understand why, including one being S and visitor et I to tert and those years point ţ and events whose family happy or sad ţ 's influence is tert have each other when any profane made any inquisi tert ie on citizens tert eanul which was the s seated at the head table always was given always like that aND and answered -He's our guest. Felix met him a long time ago at ...

Then the day comes when Felix died, and the guest walking with pa et and lost tert him, tear ţ and after mortuary van Iveco wept the most. The whole vigil was told to the people: -A guest. Felix met him in the old days.

When turned tri et your home, each guest is handed Felix's room. There ie et 's never out of it, any more after all the whole family buried pa et she's lost ţ and S and weeping desperately.

Sodom not Babylon

Because I do not like to talk Pegram will not do portraits, but I was S and I from high et sheet eighteen et and what I saw there: actress tert e lesbians they struggled on the normal teacher who had aman ţ and students tert him from acting et and a lot of courtyards et you, as if it were a criterion of the tert elegant Sophocles, the people pro et you, uncle, otherwise drugs, occultism et i wish tert of the a- ţ and make colleagues to quit et sheet, but you live aND you. I we break mouth since that age to S and the yogis, et and even et and today me I find ţ and the net S and I could ţ and buy books tert authorities but was Sodom not Babylon et and finally I left it was too much, he in tert understand sometimes those entering from time to time with the gun, if it went a couple there, I et leads s and I finish my studies îmbâcsească time before the situation tert take and, as said vodka. To say et something serious, you see ţ and how you will be the day when Parliament will introduce, as they say, anal mandatory Idio tert OF THE.

Man et and lost shadow

Felix always likes to meditate before reached such an intensity of thought that could not stop even after bedtime or during nights tert him nor sleep. He sat in the dark trying to fall asleep and thinking empires of thought. After a while, morning ţ the ground began to notice she ' et loses shadow.

When he had not at all prefer to sit in darkness et and night AND the day without et knows why.

Stupidity

Felix doesn't drink coffee. S and still et and today he had pain in his heart. Then simple memories awoke them again. The rest was a man coco et at life tert complicated without et knows exactly why. It felt tert she stupid AND I was not who to tell anything because the S e via ţ to. He thought only stupidity that will stick in the ground before the time, but that's life ţ of just what et you, you, or tert gypsy?

The Romanian shepherd, Brother Moftangiu

I met many ţ and pastors alive tert mine. One asked me to learning tert English because I had to go groom in one of the states of southeastern America unfortunately not et know that.

-A, Pastor, go ţ and in South America, I said.

He had an annoyed expression, I was annoying him.

I started doing English because he was busy shepherding Christian et tin.

Meanwhile a friend, also a pastor, but without a seminary, his mother came to me in ţ country.

At one point they went somewhere, and my mother told me: -When this brother has money, he won't even know you.

I was really amazed that my mother said, but she et and strengthened words: -You s et your best until he has nothing, then il tert give foot.

Strangely, the AND of the former.

I had another shepherd friend, another lost one, like in Ten Little Blacks. This was a soul-only man, an intellectual, who at one point went to Thule, and the frost of money made him, made him. I remember I once wrote a poem Nasreddin, I still have somewhere where I said that Nasreddin was a friend of philosophy et the faith tert A, which then become Camilar et and made gold. Nasreddin sky et and ten years S i i S i made an image of gold that you give his friend saying: -I hope, though, pre tert UIE AND you now.

The phone when he deigned to answer, S and I read Remu et books poetry spunâdnu's not going to keep it, frătiucu that advised me to keep it. What else to say?

And the first one at one point disappeared. I had it in Messenger and wrote to him, but he didn't answer me until he told me he was in America and that he was staying there.

I always talked to the shepherds very nicely. I have written to him sometimes: -Brother shepherd! Peace, brother shepherd!

Did not answer.

At one point he wrote me one line, the last one: -I know you from somewhere?

-Brother shepherd, it's me. It's Felix. It's Felix, shepherd brother. Brother Moftangiu. Brother Moftangiu.

In class AND seventh middle school

I went to S sheet always et i always faster, hoping to see a girl from another class who get drunk with something, et know what. There et know how the hours passed et and then I gave flock laps et sheet only just passes you by. When I think now that I was happy et and that stupid to fall in love with a poor, but love does not stand to choose when their tert gives head, e et your mind or my sins, goofy.

Public

It was in autumn 2000 when I came home always my brown velvet jacket S and a stylish attitude. I was caught in the darkness that stretched with the equinox and I stayed in the night at the

mercy of passers-by. I remember how I got someone not et know where et and took me to Alba Iulia, a place then I had to avoid him because hardly passed me et initiated.

The one who took me then was a young man, a younger man than I am now, with a job that I'm afraid I can't remember and when I asked him where I work I told him I was a student, where ? At the theatre. Directing, not acting. He had a very unusual attitude et Nuit. There was even time AND in Alba Iulia, blochist, but said that going after down after her tert him it's because he wants tert take him to see me.

Especially for subjective reasons I never graduated, but now I think about it, I think of two young passionate ţ and these birds are traveling artists et know.

My god's pulse

I put my hand on his forehead et and I feel ţ it heart throbbing, living like a dying ignored. Then he looked at me with marble eyes. I don't have to worship the idol anymore. Thousand. But talking, just sitting in front ţ open skies like an oven in a world where everyone is a stranger, even et and you himself tert . It shall be death, but not now. Then there will be another. The trees are burning in the ground.

I want to know an answer, but there is only what does S know. I want to die, but I'm alive. My soul is a burning vanity. Via tert of a good thing, writes a book by Goethe, but like if it were not, you could resist?

God told me.

He said God to wake up, to tert and have denied me.

What does that mean to tert him? Forsakes not only deny ţ ii.

director

Felix borrowed from it forever by S and Terror Art box or book of Nicodemus until et name.

Neighbors were miserable home number of students ţ and by AND and smoking the pipe until et and career of unfinished - just so you can say beautiful from acting that S knows theater.

Religion

Do not write to learning tert not write to be reminded often do mannequins words AND and even for write well, but there. Writing is my religion and I think heaven is an illegible text. A et wants to bring a man but I have nothing, but et know why writers like grass sky. I have a little program that I head provided tert state the writing, a barcode that God typing to conceive tert takes me. I do not write for it AND have something to say, but I have something unspeakable.

Felix's suicide

Felix was a writer, and that's about it. He published four books tert him, tortured, et and only now i et i find a soul. His mother had died, and his father - as some people like to beat - liked to argue.

The S and do not talk openly, people et knew about his love for a girl, which without love undivided et in hand, even impossible, was one AA et awaited for years on a bench indifferent. Shall an empty space, absurd, Beckett et them feel tert she wishes blind tert complicated Finally sometimes to S EASC its fate.

In a moment of weakness Q S and picked up via tert of waking up and then in the dark. Nothing happens but the darkness. People had little courage to lights, readers no longer read it too, bear full face via tert hurting black, and he could not stop thinking about how much damage he had done.

The Dog and the Bitch

He sat on the bench in the courtyard of the Theater Department S and smoking a tert cigarette of tobacco. A child who lived in the court faculties tert she stopped to talk to him. He was an intelligent child who told him how he had played Arlechinetto in a show for the Chair, but at one point he asked him: Why por ţ and chain tert s this? Why por ţ and that iron collar on his neck? E AND your dog?

Why are you tattooing? Why a portion ţ and, man, Felix? E AND your dog?

Everyone is collapsed by S i and emo tional, ira tert level. But bineîn tert understood that the child did not say anything. Smile.

After the child left for the basement, where he lived, and the student sat on the bench, bored to death, he was left alone in the park, because he did not take into account the strangers, most of them older girls. He always came two hours faster or half an hour later.

There was no one in the yard. After a while, some girls from acting appeared, and Naomi stopped next to him to talk. Naomi was a student of acting, the year he sees a body perfect.Dacă in black incense, not tert could hardly believe that there has et something. An examination noticed acting class when Charles had played Helena in "Prive et back in anger". But Naomi was a marble soul, you couldn't think of her any other way.

For some reason inexplicable to the S Eza beside him on the bench, one of the other girls, et and two of them had talked to not et to never. She didn't ask him about his dog collar. Instead, when he said something to her, most likely he said something about God, she cut him off in an impenetrable tone: -Come on, don't steam me anymore. Shut up.

He was amazed. Inside, must confess, had the momentum punch it, but how to banging et you an actress tert huh?

He was silent for a while, and after a while Naomi got up and left. him.

What had this girl got to do with him, she thought like a child, she hadn't done anything to

Then resent it began et i 't et longer They talked again until he got sick after, abandoning tert single faculty damn.

Once, walking winter darkness by market tert Central University Library via front tert House of culture of students tert OF THE toward home and Naomi with a sucker of the actor beyond et ira et and prostrated do ţ 's a time , tert taking into hands from a distance tert complicated, bride aND the groom, queen et and king, then fled. anyway.

What a bitch was this beautiful Naomi, she sometimes thought. Sin. But he didn't love her

The village they live only pro et tii

Out on the street in the village they live only pro et know. I'm leaving my ugly, mocking house.

Go on the road to the mountains ţ i et i walk past large houses of householders that send boys ţ and the Velcro ţ and S and Murari. I look back, but if po tert him to et know about the shooting ashes slices. I walk forward and a woman in stockings laughs out loud. Dad would eat it. A girl was smoking next to her, her mouth cracking. I wonder God did it to you or the Gorilla - (by Liviu Rebreanu)? Go on, but it's like in the book village made pro et your S and inhabited by mo et i. Good thing a castle remained standing even as flagship to have when the sun rises. Go on the road in the ash S and hear how the tribe Ephraim hate screm tert Ân tert softeners when Amete to ass horse. They are S and the rights people ţ and but shall Amar ţ and the S tep tert him. Damn be a world I walked et and I got everything on the outskirts of Bucharest et you. I show you Ghidu et parties, will play ţ I will after fiddle. Good thing I went, good thing I saw, look, I won.

Þ ara pro et fish

Many tert pro et I have met via tert mine. No et know that reason, to bread, to water, to be Gombo ţ ii be tert plum brandy, are you et ITUL be lad et ITUL. Ehe, Now, if they're old, I can try to remember them AND I'll try to the number, yes I do not think I can. Which will be the biggest of them?

I'm the eldest, but I'm a genius, I don't care. Let's see if I can figure it out. I've got to fumbling et and

after I spotted a portrait to make them, and he will be stupid symbol for the whole earth. I'm the biggest fool all I shall of silly holy, while the rest are just pro et your pure et and simple. Many tert pro et you have met via tert mine on earth, I am S and inquire, gemstones earth pro et ti, barely lead.

Voca tert takes Romanian village

Motto : "At work, Mom."

Romanians have higher ţ at - who et knows when? - to look tert ărănimea with contempt tert .

But the truth is that in respect tert to produce tert get real goods tert peasants stand alone on the S something. Ora et they colossus neighborhoods bad blocks produce nothing except tert take medical profiles S and in higher tert education and the share tert take villages-hour S 's is about half. I do not think five percent of hourly et citizens have read Hegel. Then what are we talking about? What effect have the time AND they they over- wordy, unnecessary? Common sense tert tells us that time AND they have also decommissioned plants S and plants in the past AND the dimensions redrawn before the 50s, and people wander without purpose ţ and asphalt bring the S i and the field S and the cattle them be played dignity, vocation tert takes Romanian village.

A few points of reform

Moldova Republic program should be employed in any 24 hours. Solda ţ ii Romanian to reach Chi et ninău et 's say in Parliament that communist, ready, now we come, we're here. Glad Romanian army

going to die in Afghanistan S and tert country it's incomplete. Also occupied et and counties ţ them from above, Cahul, Ismail et and Bolgrad and Transnistria to let it go, and if they will agree to let him artillery et and bomb - only to leave peace.

-In Harghita, Covasna et and Mure et should be sent S and settlers et your Romanian, especially tert peasants, both tert takes to be quiet et TESC Szecklers et i do not think the S enlarge S and countries in tert country Romanian .

-Moschei should be built, but also those who are in S and to condemn terrorist affair tert to death on the spot, without Giudice tert space.

- Þ Gypsies who think ninja et and do bad things to be cut right hand side. I was a thousand years as Hungarians et and the Turks say that evil is when we're in tert Gypsies. Þ gypsy is tert gypsy, did not make God to rule over heroes. Homeland or death.

ghosts

Please go of my dreams, or if you come, come to see fit tert complicated. Why do I name AND your Ahenobarbus, why haunt me, love unfulfilled? I have suffered enough in life ţ of the real loving you must suffer and after decades in dreams. Leaves! Either you come, come in see fit tert complicated.

You're going to tell me what you've been doing all this time, and we're going to talk to you for the first time. I not love you, see, now can I et i lie. About me il tert tell? Everything I live turns into philosophy, I'm a tragic character.

***

I remember as a kid how cool was all that came across the line, and if it was in America was COOLMANT all those movies with beatings, culture et your, guns, robberies me et initiated, poly tert s et ti rebels struck ţ and head, all by s and a chocolate foil was tert held in the classroom, no matter that you have not eaten chocolate chucking everything, like we Indians jibaro. To ţ i wanted Tory et 're oceanic on et tele living river fishing I et ina milk was not et pa. Ro et laid Romanian AND you do not look like foreign ones, et and all the et the pro et ti, me. Then you could eat AND the empty bread et i 'm ţ liking, et them to yourself et saturate today if you eat bread empty tummy ache. God made another fool of the Romanian. The biggest proof that the Romanian is stupid is that he does not call the King and prefers to vote for a bottle of oil with or without degrees, or a bucket, full or not. Now we are et and new cool, but do not eat the et up the river, en et ii, etc., you have to do monoculture marijuana et and opium et him to be the coolest, no longer need us, winter we'll make a fire.

The Romanian complex

Only money matters. Romania is not a tert country in which to live et you. Nothing made in Romania is of quality. Arti et keep Romanian et the people et science tert A are times we et 're nullity ţ and or second grade. Why cite AND your mother Rebreanu library when you can ţ and to cite AND you Coelho loan or a lot of money? In Romania S i metali et keep suck for metalheads do tert single metal et keep strangers. We don't have music. We have no literature. We have no culture. We have no history.

Creators are we et bother tert him. Everything I do tert gypsies is bad. Everything that states that have money or are at least strong do is acceptable. Romanian music of any category is not et pa. In fact we are a people not et pa. The best is to go beyond the line S and you Dezna tert institutionalized full third generation tert ie, forgetting that your mother ever was Romanian. Even S and the Romanians were "acquaintances ţ i" in the world were the first ţ and the true culture just because they left the pool Romania. Oh, if only we had been born in America, or at least in Germany! Not even et know who we are.

Eve's Fairy Tale

The cemetery was covered in waves. I walked through it departed at midnight ţ ii et and I stopped crying. I cried endlessly et it et and then I noticed that someone complained to me. He was a Spirit. I asked him why he was crying. Did not answer. Looking around, I noticed Spirits ie et ind wave, dressed in tunics Greek et you.

-Who we are? I asked them -Poporul die tert building, replied waves.

I saw that they were going to the mountains. I followed them. Sang all night between cedar forest, and at three in the morning ţ has descended the mountain on the trail of smooth boulders ţ and steps S and S is they made one with the waves.

-Oh! I muttered.

Stay on the mountain AND I AND expected morning ţ a. Aurora I went on tert shore, but flow covers everything just Doric columns were seen in the deep.

-Mor ţ ii. Mor ţ ii. Mor tert shook et and at night for thousands of years.

I shuddered.

I arrived in time et . Everyone was happy, they were going shopping for Christmas. I was blue as an alien, I had seen history.

The night I returned et and I came in waves, but the waves received me with a firm gesture gods tert complicated.

That's when I started crying again. It was twelve o'clock. I cried endlessly et it et and then I noticed that someone complained to me. He was a Spirit. I asked him why he was crying. Did not answer.

Looking around I noticed Spirits ie et ind wave, dressed in tunics Greek et you.

-Who we are? I asked them -Poporul die tert building, replied waves.

I saw that they were going to the mountains. I followed them. Sang all night between cedar forest, and at three in the morning ţ has descended the mountain on the trail of smooth boulders ţ and steps S and S is they made one with the waves.

-Oh! I muttered.

Stay on the mountain AND I AND expected morning ţ a. Aurora I went on tert shore, but flow covers everything just Doric columns were seen in the deep.

-Mor ţ ii. Mor ţ ii. Mor tert shook et and at night for thousands of years.

I shuddered.

I arrived in time et . Everyone was happy to wander BE ţ and Christmas. I was blue as an alien, I had seen history.

The night I returned et and I came in waves, but the waves received me with a firm gesture gods tert complicated.

That's when I started crying again. It was twelve o'clock.

Human tragedy

People are invariably stupid . In capitalism seeks by all means to have money et and how successful et esc say that I'm Onassis. In communism search function ţ ii S and how to get to a function tert ie say that I was Stalin. This is human tragedy, without a cure.

Elton John - Sacrifice

Sacrificing tert IVA you in S IVa. Nothing else.

My grandfather's curse

Curse my grandfather, John, activist mayor, secret police followed me throughout life ţ to.

People do not consider bad man, I do, et i wonder how you can ţ them to repent et you for the sins of the tert gave via tert complicated for those who have paid for you? All via tert A small I hated, now my eyes are two springs dried up.

The demon of unfulfilled love

It is said that every young AND the young at a certain age they need someone. If you 're et and are often not seek higher grounds, invariably come to folly. Watch ţ and my case, in my crazy love for Esmeralda, running AND I AND teptând as Odysseus et and Penelope, I got to give the folly among the people et and assembly. I became truffle et , Romanian irredentist et and pure et and plain stupid. And suffering ţ they see them multiplied my great flock of faithful youth tormented by the demon of love unfulfilled. As old Andersen used to say, each in his own place.

Birta ş ul

He came to the village et and buy a dilapidated house et haunt crossroads. There stood open a pub where die ţ and BE ţ and to ţ and BE tert ivii village clamor speaker to three morning ţ a. Passed years. Village impoverish et is PÂRLOG people arrived not be worthless, pub et the enriched tert him.

With money et Tiga ţ and the ATA tert take years began cămătărească with mild ţ it is true, et He hooked up with a bank manager, a black man with a liver. Birta et site was a lemon, but have you sell. At the funeral the whole village came to him for a drink. Fu cried a lot birta et the time.

Sin

If there is one thing that is more repulsive to the soul, it is sin. It's a film with Woody Allen, in which Woody is in love with a mentally ill, has an affair with an actress tert single lesbian S and about a mother fran tert uzoaică. Without being Caiaphas, are you wondering how Woody could have done all this? There is something in us that makes S and we can not escape sin, to detest. I personally hate spiders more sin than to spiders have some in tert understanding. The spiders S and the S snakes made God on sin made God.

Writers

Gabriel García Márquez, accent and all, the great writer has written well so wrote a novel that sells the sandwich et sites. Then he wrote a lot of books ţ and which, as Drummond said the guy that will not go down in history. Gabo, as he began to write, wrote all night linotypes of editorial tert laid newspapers hungry et and with tert cigarette beside him, then going to sleep at a house of tolerance tert brought misfortune of Columbia, the only place where i S i allowed to pay for a room, and write terribly, naughtily, as young people write. Then after making a stain money "saw" huge et the responsibility of writing novels et and stories, S was lost. One can not ţ and read what was written after _Un century of singurătate_, read only snobs. Personally, I'm on the opposite side. At first, I used to write constipated, always afraid of being out of place or plagiarizing without wanting someone. Now I'm a little et your irresponsible with a camera, et and when neither you nor I will be, our world will remain in my writing, et I really think I will start to pull the face - veiled: D, as Tolstoy :) - on to tert him. a et of that smile ţ and it goes ţ the street.

***

I recommend anyone il et and buy the complete set of Mozart CDs. E as a brick tiled et and costs only one hundred Lei, now AND know how much, many CDs in cardboard envelopes. Who et i buy bricks that Mozart could go and sit all life ţ to an island with nothing but a CD player solarium. Worth the money, there is a et of music, I would say he took S and Bach and Beethoven the Great is a Headbanger besides Mozart. Delicate and good for the brain, next to him we are plants blessed by the fingers of angels. So a hundred lei, better than ten pairs of jeans.

What S Tim George Enescu?

Here in Romania every et know something. Some S tim on to tert i et epcarii radio. The tert him to tert and rappers or rockers or punks or foreign luzării. But increasingly et know Romanians the soul music of their choice, Mr George Enescu? Nothing. Not even snobs not et know much. Go to Athenaeum applaud et 's look at each of tert him as Hortensia Papadat-Bengescu. I do not et know much about this Nobel live music during tert ii. It's a sign of memory impairment, that plague of insomnia that turns us into cultural zombies. I tried to listen et and I radios et truth is that I hurt. Apparently George Enescu, and ATA tert take the tert she died in Romanian soul, and we continue to vote harvester music radio et and TV. We are the die ţ and that monkey ţ them proud great need for new S holds the ruins of ancient cities in jungle Mowgli.

My demon

My demon looks exactly like me, only he's much prettier. I'm just a jerk, but when I visit my words demon et you would like me et take expensive steps et intake full visa et and money. Strange, but not et to me to et have imagined the hell, especially I do not flatter too much like me, et and et know parents tert ii mine were killed et and thousands of years all kinds of kinds for this reason. Too like the devil with Jews, while Romanians mild heart et and are good angels. I abhor with tert ite et i et know why because strămo et she too died with my ţ it like sheep as written in the law. S and who et knows maybe that's the law, if et your dark as hell to stab you light angels, a being having et fuck her straight, et know, many things happen in this world, but what I saw me and i are a worm. E, since electricity of Amper, made it a little more light on the frog complicated et knew the folks went to die demons. I'd rather be a demon.

Style

Style is what makes it special. I opened the small books ţ and with great optimism the reader, and then some stairs tert allelic rosin et and the mismatch ţ 's resonance box tert IMI momentum slowed, transforming reading into a voluptuous anguish. What is painful is that you must cite et you to go to S and disappointed, not po ţ and otherwise. Writer or poet or composer that not et follow them AND you interior style, defeating also inside on to tert and others ţ and S and Ulysses S and on Raskolnikov et and Hamlet, not actually write. When you write must deprive et your eyes on Urmuz Kafka et and Hemingway et and your look arrogant to say I can beat; there is no other way. S and yes, reading is like playing the piano, you have to do little to Orbe et you, start a book morning ţ the et and to Finally et e et your evening to cite et your book per night, to cite et ti Alighieri in two months summer must cite et you to live this aND you, the rest is just the toy, even et i love et and whatever it may be, et and then write. S and when you write, e et your colleague agora Ovidiu with Villon, Bacovia, Catullus, Eminescu. You may not be much loved, but you will be the sweet lover of Sappha, Nora, Hedda Gabler.

When you read the Gospel, you AND keep it AND your gardener Mary Magdalene. You will be loved, century after century, thousands of years as Ghilghame et et and Solomon, when all beautifully ţ it will be down around you, when all the love there will be only tears. That's why I read all the books tert authorities.

fugitive

I've always wondered who I am. And after noticing that far from being Roman, or if, or at least Romanian, finding in me mixed traits, found from childhood by my mother but unread, I began to tell my father, after we were the only two left: - S know, Dad, I'm black, Bane et dating back to the year 5500 before Christ.

- AND you know, we're Hebrew.

- AND you know, I'm Turkish.

- AND you know, we are Tatars.

I also say: -I had parents ţ and Muslims.

- S know, Dad, and we are from the Amur.

I wonder how S to S and responds, we Latins, as Brazilians.

My father was furious, saying not to call him such a madman. The only thing that accepts him is that we are ancient Greek merchants between Austria and Constantinople. It gives me the impression of a man who runs it himself et i. Parents tert he's fled the Amur as Huckleberry Finn et and then everything runs Father himself, grass carp. I don't run, I'm like Cassandra, I sit and see everything like the earth, but no one ever believed Cassandra.

Esmeralda

Who has not seen Esmeralda has not seen beauty ţ it. He did not speak with Esmeralda has been in tert wisdom. Who has not loved Esmeralda knew no suffering ţ a. For her smile fell Troy et and Dresden, to her love died soldiers ţ II on the Eastern Front, the depth of silence they put out in minutes ţ i S i Solomon, her eyes inspires s and Mo et 's. of all what's beautiful, is the apple of et seated the above, should the s tep ţ and to increase et you as a huge et to reap . Oh, Emerald! If you have not been born, not S have never learned what love is. Night I ţ and sprinkle flower scents in the eye, while crying, because what else made us God than to love et and weep? Ma et leads all stars in the universe S and I S back in time, when I call them, golden girl, emerald et and ruby.

Suffering ţ the

Dalai Lama advises us all AND you online to remove suffering tert of the via tert ours et 's kind of et of people think. But without suffering tert complicated, no heroes. A et may waive tert of torture in via tert mine, but then my soul would become common, laughing at things that have complained et and weeping before the things to be taken into et drinks. Suffering tert to elevate, educate spirit, even et and professional ţ II to ţ i had to suffer et them die. If Jesus hadn't suffered, he would have been a Sony robot. I do not want the existence tert of meaningless happiness, we can preconceived especially tert ie full learning path tert recall suffering ţ them. Bineîn tert understand that living a pain, bineîn tert understand that I can cast as apostles, but live torment full of petals Rose et and thorns slug can not in tert understand. Suffering tert of beauty gives me ţ she et and are nice because they suffer for beauty.

Nothingness

It's something that someone should have told you a long time ago and nobody told you. Live ţ i like ants or - if you ant flattering - like termites. Fruit ţ i et i destroy ţ and all without even it AND you ţ and why. Collect ţ and wealth or et know what I eat ţ and small sausages ţ and barbecue grills as you can

ţ and much et and all steaks call, atrophy tert his brain with beer, et and you feel tert and tert and Eve and . No one is like you anymore. S and not et you tert him I'm ţ i s et up worms, s et up turkeys least S and Ingram et at, you are tert too Falo et and her again AND you tert . The S and I've ţ and die soon et and children vo et three. S and nothing will remain of all your glory with all the stupidity that will ţ and filled living tert ile destruction. Any ţ and living to tell tert authorities? One way to tert and live the same, but it's sad that after you there will be nothing left. Nothing. I believe ţ and the et of cool that makes ţ and money, I tell you, if I die _azi_, will live longer than any of you. No tert in necessarily to BE et telesc, but I do because I am a teacher demanding et and I would like to see you stop ţ and S and that of you ţ â et us et 're a bit of beauty tert e because only beauty ţ it is eternal.

Criteria

A spider et dreams. Not in tert understand how I stood outside in sunlight isolated in my inner VITRAIL. Usually dreams are spectator of drama which feel then that should be written on paper or live my life ţ the poor events. If you ask me Death Finally et ITUL living ţ them what I did and I will answer off I dreamed et i think it will be enough. In the dream I lived all living tert authorities that he AND have lived et i dream generated S and the S ir letters. Dream proves AND you have the soul of glass that pierced by colored light after successful et e et you to make peace between your waking fantasies et hold up. I think art was born from dreams et and people always looking to appoint dreams criteria via tert complicated.

SCHENGEN

The land of the reeds is holy ground. It is a holy land like the island of Jonah, like the dust of Russia, like the United States. The Hague is sacred, and today the Hague stretches from Canada to Rotterdam and Hiroshima. Brâncuşi's Bronze Beam, Uppsala University, the gate of Wittenberg Cathedral and all the tombs of the popes guard this land.

We believers on this earth are bison who retreat to the stories of the past, in fairy tales that people choose to forget long before they get Alzheimer's disease. We are Nobody, but like the first nations we are this earth, this earth we are, this earth is still ours, we are the voice of this earth. Those who gave us life by word two thousand winter solstices ago, let God sanctify this earth in them before they died, and the sword with which our ancestors reaped the ears of wheat put us in hand this earth.

All these lands are ours. These are the lands of the five noble families of the Church. Today, when believers in the West are exterminated by ignorance as ignorance as the ultimate Christian in the blinding atomic mushroom of human disaster, the words of all others, brothers and dead, say: Come!

Get directions from wherever you are. Wherever a believer is, raise him from the heap of stones and place him on the wings of the dove. Come all the wanderers, all those who have never had any rest in this world, bring your elders to light candles of galena wax in all our deserted concrete cathedrals, come Africo, all the poor islands to come and eat, to eat the cream of the West, you, Third World, come to the lands that the Church has lost, come and dismount from your clandestine ships and submit to us, break the beast's mouth, and turn today's age into the explosion of piety of the New Middle Ages. Berdiaev was a prophet, Youssou, like Robert Nesta Marley, so fill his soul and come in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower loaded with existentialists and raise the stained glass windows of the true cathedral of the Church, the Cathedral of the New Middle Ages.

For five years the West had the right to colonize the whole world, because at that time the West believed. As keepers of the gospel, it is now your turn, whole Third World, to come to these still holy lands, because now the gospel is in you. Colonize the West, black, yellow, and red people!

Come and be our priests, be our heroes and our artists, be our popes and patriarchs, be the true politicians of these lands and our lands, be our teachers, be our founders, be our writers, be our rabrindanaths and be ours, be our saints, be our family, be one with us who today are but remembrance and earth! By giving you our land, we give ourselves to you. All this land from one sea to the other is yours. Just turn the Romanesque cathedral of the faith of the West back into a living amber temple that we will throw like a bottle with the SOS meghila of our souls into the waves of light that reach us from the Great Deum. Cross the Alps, Rome is yours.

Hateg, Europe March 3, 2012

John

(a dream soul - relied heavily on fiction tert action - bringing all my spiritual influences in my room block and the neighborhood where I live, built during the communist period)

Motto: "Did you ever have a feeling that you wanted to go, And still had a feeling that you wanted to stay? " Lt. Col. Frank Slade, _Scent of a Woman_, 1993

-This is your beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.

The room where I was sitting, the boy alone, was a room without furniture with a dusty carpet and in the middle a fountain with a stone guide rounded by the streams that descend every spring from the cubist Bauhaus architecture of Retezat, although the deep fountain was on the floor the second of a miserable and much too crowded block, and there was not even a spring in the deserted house below, and the fountain, this hallucination, was indeed the visible part of the earthen lamp, with the icy water in it, the flame. I go down into the well, swimming through the ice-covered water, until my heart is frozen in me, and I reach other heavens and other places, at other ends of the world.

All I had to do was write a Roman, Greek, Hebrew, Armenian, or Cyrillic letter on one of the stones at the edge of the fountain and people, God and angels were sticking their foreheads out of its waves to speak teaching. And the walls of the room were not continuous, interrupting and residing again like the cosmos, here and there as if they were the collapsed masonry of a desert of sand shattered by the lips of the wind, shattered by flaming swords drawn from amber sheaths. to the cherubim themselves, and in my room the boy felt as if the whole glass boiling like a bottle flowing in the oven was behind his forehead, as if Arabia, this virgin, was my soul. That's why people and God called me K-pax

because, like alchemists, I know the secret to turning loneliness into happiness, and the Parks themselves, when my poor mother gave birth to me, gave me the charm of bliss with snowy lips.

It happened that the whole room changed in just a few moments, only now, for example, this block of flats was a green boulder on the corner of the river drowned by reeds and willows burned, tortured and surrounded by the sun whose golden hairs hammered by blacksmiths filled In expressionist geometric and asymmetrical angles, the whole pantry of old childhood and the only happiness named Mother. Then beyond the window there is light and the sky is seen through the jade foliage of our earth, made of our bodies. And only the stream of mountain water sounded like an old, protoharmonic, incomprehensibly hardened wood in these hours when day and night mingled in a sky of mixed light and darkness, like white meadow honey and streams beside the waters with the black honey from the flowers shed from the net by God with St. Peter on the fields in the mountains like the shells of sea snails brought by the flood and you don't know if it's light or starry darkness in your soul and you say the bear's prayer alone at night in the mountains big and silent in the river. And only when I died did I see that I did not die for the first time.

Every day I die, also at twelve o'clock, and I am dead twelve hours after which I rise, for I have drunk too much of the medicine of our sorcerers, and half the day I am alive and half I am dead.

But I rise after I die, I rise again and again, like grass. When I die, I get up and go into God, I walk through the seven worlds. When I'm dead, I'm alive too. I see what I can't see otherwise and I'm told. When I'm dead I'm silent, when I'm alive I talk. And I am a kind of wizard, a man of the soul. In the back I carry a scale in which I can put people's souls, but I don't like to do that. I have a stone in my pocket that can turn people's souls into gold, but I keep the stone for myself even though it just doesn't work for me.

With my own eyes I see dead people that people think are alive and living people that people think are dead. From my palms grow two acacias, our prayers. when I die first I close my eyes, then I swallow my spit, and then I get up from my knees. Life is so bad you have to bring it to its knees. I have been dying and living for thirty years, and I will do it again because of Isa until I die, but I will only be resurrected.

Now that I speak, I am dead, and the blossoming acacias are silent in my eyes, in the dreamy moments when I speak to the other world obsessed with God as the world of men. In the dark, the same lights always come on, be it the first of November candles or the stars. The universe is a candlelit cemetery, a graveyard that can't wait to rise again. We will all be resurrected. Only the dead value life, and the sky is a Strei above our heads, hidden, in which we all end up. But what Strei et know?

My Aunt IDF Woman

„..And I still have very few words to describe what I see. ” Rachel Corrie

FOREWORD ARTICLE FOR A FEDERAL ISRAEL

"I believe that South Africa is a country in which Blacks and Whites should live together. ” Bantu Stephen Biko

One thing, it is true that apartheid is the disease of the white star world, just as totalitarianism is the disease of the red star world. Even the Nazis were half socialist. Every capitalist country except France has experienced one or another stronger or milder form of ethnic and social separation which could be categorized as belonging to the apartheid family. It's the year 2012 already and in respects concerning the nation of Israel, the newly emerged Israel who for a good dream done many bad acts, we can discern that Judaism is apparently changing and has changed and it is no longer how we used to perceive it in the history and culture of the world. Although that this is only to our distant untrained eyes, because the philosophy of Judaism has not changed but it was replaced in the Jewish state policy by the political ideology of Zionism. In Israel theology was replaced by ideology. Judaism used to be a lighthouse built by giants and a statue of Liberty in itself, but what once was mainly a community of extremely civilized civilians is now reduced to a drifting state whose government leads a dubious policy, seeming to be open to anything no matter how wrong, all in the name of an abstract notion of Zionism.

And to be more clearer all the world is astonished by the few mediatic swallows who manage to electronically get to us. This is a page which indicates the contemporary government of Israel with the crime of apartheid, and the conviction will or will not be given by our posterity, the judge of our age appointed by God. To say this is not Anti-Semitism. I, as all the true people of the world want all the best not only for the Jewish community but also for the bloodied state of Israel and I respect their searching for what that best seems for them, BUT that doesn't imply that we want that at the expense of the Palestinians.

I thought about this Israeli-Palestinian issue, I thought and thought, long and hard, and it hit me. The State of Israel should be a federal state. The entire Palestine is claimed by both the communities that inhabit it, both Israeli and Palestinians. As we can see for more than sixty years, Israel and the West Bank and the Gaza Strip are lived by two main population, but the whole territory is taken by the power of only one of them. Just as the Jewish, the Palestinians lived there for millennia, but now the Zionist Pilgrims want to take everything for themselves and put the natives in refugee camps with a policy of community destruction just as the American Pilgrims did centuries before, and now the Israeli government sends its soldiers to fight against villages, children and civilians. The Israeli war in the West Bank and Gaza is wrong and it could be that Palestinian uprising reaction against the State of Israel could be a Pavlovian reflex, because all that they know of Israel are the male and female soldiers who come to demolish their homes, take their culture land and to arrest, beat and shoot them and make fun-photos with tortured blindfolded Palestinians. Logically if on this lands, State of Israel, Gaza and the West Bank live two nations then the entire land should be federal. Israel and the Palestinian land should unite, letting the Palestinian return to their lands inglobated now in Israel, and the result should be a federal State of Palestinisrael.

The current politics of the State of Israel, is ideatic oldfashioned, out of date. Israel is the last nationalist state in the civilized world and it should cease to be so if it wants to remain in the civilized world, and as we can remember nationalisms were one of the darkest episodes in Modern History. The Israeli government should leave behind this fascist form of contemporary Zionism and return to the ideals and archetype of Anne Frank, because sadly today’s average women of Israel are educated now so they resemble more the horrible Ana Pauker than the angelic genius of Anne Frank. And they should send the female soldiers home and let them be women and mothers, not onthologyless hybrids. Israel should return to a policy of Judaism instead of Zionism and as they too lived as alogenous in other states in the centuries before us, they too should give rights of civic determination and liberty [and livity] to their natives, the Palestinians, in all the regions mentioned including the Golan heights, for a civilized, true, plural Israeli-Palestinian democracy in a Federal State of Israel. And the most serious concept in all this is that until the law for a federal Israel is passed the Israeli government is going to have Palestinian blood on its hands because the Israeli Occupation kills.

The Palestinian has asked for international arbitration, outcry silenced by the Israeli government. The entire land should be pacified with UN and [democratic (if there are still any left)] troops, which should take the military power from the unobjective IDF. And I say for the last time that the UN should create a Federal Israel, from the current state of Israel land, Gaza Strip, Golan Heights and the West Bank, whose peace, liberty and democracy's security should be guaranteed for the needed number of year until community balance by UN and [democratic (if there are still any left)] troops.

Palestinians need a country too, and both the Palestinians and Israel need peace.

THE PARABLE OF THE CHILD AND THE TANK AND THE ROCK Our Dead Statue of Liberty

MOTTO: "We're not gonna be tossed in jail, we're not gonna be tortured, you know, we're not facing what people in the occupied lands are facing. If we decide we don't want to do it, fine. But then try to look yourself in the mirror and say: I'm a murderer. " NOAM CHOMSKY

It’s not true that Rachel Corrie, that twenty-three year old long-haired girl was murdered by an IDF army bulldozer; she was murdered by an IDF army tank. In Israel, but mostly in the West Bank and Gaza tanks and army bulldozers are the same thing with minor differences, and a caterpillar bulldozer is even more horrible than a tank, is like an execution machine engineered by Franz Kafka in a Metropolis Fritz Lang world . IDF meaning Israeli Defense Forces, the Israelis defend with soldiers with guns and trucks against children who are afraid even to go to their schools. She was there at that demolishing spot and she thought she was on the Tiananmen Square in Beijing in 1989, she must have seen that tape on

TV or somewhere with the Chinese protester standing alone in front of the invincible stupid tank and the invincible tank lost the battle, but Miss Corrie was in Gaza, Israel - a place which proved to be much more savage. The dust in the holy Land cries after the times of Suleyman, Isa and all the prophets and Abraham the Muslim. Today there are no more prophets, only crazy people, but who knows? As for what happened here, well, you know everything about it, and if you don't you can very well find out if you really want to, but I think that one of the most important things is that this girl cared about the people , not just about her people, or the people of the world in general, but for the people living in Gaza, and for this she was murdered. I heard her say two days before, she said about a massive military machine clutching us from all sides like a giant insect, trying to kill all of us here. She annoyed the Zionist war machine so the war machine ate her as the Red Beak Bird - the Romanian Communist Party - squashed Labiş, the unconscious Romanian idealist drunkard. She was dangerous, like Michael Jackson. She stood before the tank as a 21st Century man, and the tank chewed her with its blade as a prehistoric cannibal and did not stop. It caught her under and grind her like grains of wheat and bread. Rachel was there, and the IDF were there and death was there too. We all die, they say; but there are some who take great pride into killing others as Israel the government murdered Corrie the activist. She was for me, and they killed her. She was executed. They say that we are bad and they are good because we are bad and we are bad because they are good mainly, so they beat my mother and father, they shot me in the leg, shoot over me and beat me in the face till blood was dripping, they demolished with military bulldozers and soldiers us every time they wanted and keep us locked as animals here and shoot missiles in our apartments, they broke my toys, the whole Gaza is debris and we are going mad and you see that tank is still over Rachel Corrie buried in the broken bricks, I can read the badge on the tank - IDF -, so I take a rock like my father Daud and throw it at the stupid tank, and I throw more rocks just to go away and speak the useless words of my anger. And as I was running over to the tank it hit me that Rachel Corrie is Our Dead Statue of Liberty, an executed one and how could you murder the Statue of Liberty but with a bulldozer?

"Of course she bore our sufferings and took our pains upon her."

Isaiah

and My Name Is Tamara

'My name is Tamara', she said then to Felix Herz long ago when none of this not only it didn't exist but more than just that, it wasn't true. Herz wasn't the cutest boy around her but was the only one she loved, then, in an era when she never dreamed to be ever dressed all in green with a rifle in her hands and to shoot, just shoot, always at the orders of a psychopath officer. Now she was old and alone and now she knows that life is now way a fun war of paintball and that the red stains on her shotgun were stains of blood and humans like pieces of red glass and light in huge medieval windows. Nobody, not even her friends knew why, after she returned from the army decades ago she never married or looked up to this day just like Saint Anthony or Mother Therese, living a classy, educated, tragic life. It is not what she would have wanted, but anyway for two score years now she was a spinster. It's not what she would have wanted, her goal always was a house full of children calling it home but all of this was long ago when she still listened big black discs with Sylvie Vartan and old old songs at the noisy radio speaker. Yes, she was a woman but she was no pussy. After arriving in Israel and living in a kibbutz for a short while with her sister she was sent to the east desert and there she served. She was no clerk either.

She did everything until it became sour. This is what it was like, but only after a while, when the activists go and you have to stay behind and bury the dead.

So she never married; because girl like her do not marry, because for girls there's nothing else left, safe only maybe shooting yourself with the same trigger you had in all those glorious years when among other things you've shot at people as a psycho. She shot a little girl in a firestarter village, the girl you've always wanted to give birth to. And after you left the village on the green truck, you knew that there's nothing more left, that you could never be the only thing you ever wanted to be, no matter how much you wished for it to become true, no much how much you 've dreamed to be one day because no true Mom in the world had ever been a baby killer, like those Vietnam kids. In the moment she says that dying child is still smiling though as not knowing what happens to her, in the arms of her already crazy mother, she saw her life transforming like Nosferatu in a horror movie and nothing she could ever do that wash. blood, couldn't wash her hands. She was a hero and not a mother.

With disappointment and hope

Where are our composers? I should be gentle, but can I be? They are being replaced by people whose music is believed to be dead, long live the business. The composer is the one who addresses the ages, just as a rock addresses the water. Where else do we see something like this today? Just some of

the songs most often recycled from the musical DCA of the past and the collective unconscious, at best, when they are not really stolen from those who do the recycling. Where are the concerts, where are the great works, where are the beautiful musicals, why did the symphony become a dead language, where did the jazz lose its jasmine, where is the piety of the music of piety, how did the musical notes become meaningless hieroglyphs for most people, why pop music is a beautiful angel with lead wings, why no one knows the difference between a sonata and a chamber music concert, how snobbery has grown in all music and music what song, simple, clean, melodic, harmonious, bores people, and the rhythm has become an end in itself, not a paraclete?

In Romania, the musical life is worse than anywhere after millennia of beautiful traditions, summing up Africa, Iberia, Causa and Iran, Syria and Palestine, Mongolia and Amur. I remember my childhood when a whole country of high school students got bored of Mr. Joseph Sava's shows and not only could they not understand the opera, but they laughed at the Symphony of Destiny itself and at the poor children they liked. Entertainment and light music shows that appeared with the socialist era made us musically idiotic. Until then, it was conceivable to indulge in the music of Maria Callas. One very wrong thing is that while all our musical hopes go to other countries, we do not care about musicians as do the philharmonics, operas and academies of civilized countries. Bring them from North Korea, if you must, but let our dome be filled.

The technological revolution has accentuated the lack of imagination. Compare the timbre of wood, air, metal, bag, and hand of a cello with the same sound to the instrument list of a synthesizer. It's a music that expires like a product for sale, after a few years the same "song" sounds like a defective computer program sounds, while the cello keeps its timbre like a bull's head.

And last but not least, we are bombarded with percussion instruments. Anyone can imagine using them. There is nothing worse than a percussion instrument left in the hands of a white man. Just as it is true that "White men can't jump", so it is true that whites cannot use a percussion instrument properly. I can't even understand them properly. For blacks, every drum sounds in a certain range, while for whites there are only snare, road, dinners, and pedal drums. And nowadays there is a brainwashing, any person who makes music feels obliged to put "drums" on the organ or computer, at least, if he does not think he knows how to hit them.

Is it still possible for composers to be born? The Romanian people believe, together with Miron Costin, that they give birth in Moldova as well. People are also born in Moldova.

To be born again.

Death

A et to appear if regards AND you closer that everyone has in the family S and the Devil. I mean the Devil. We love our family, but other relative of ours, Michidu tert complicated makes us foaming beer every day. We upset the parents ţ s, parents ţ ii are Furio S and the new S and our other sister comes, death angel et and we wake et 're in tears forever. Satan then no matter, only tears et and gray et the wine we drink the bitter et and ask, even et pro et yourself to be? Apparently yes, otherwise we would have loved, because love is silent.

How history began

The elders have always spoken of God. Gods made heaven Aegean Sea et and land like islands.

They made man and man . There are those et 's work are two different species. They made animals tert wise as depicted ţ i et ing angels. The God of man sprang up from the earth in his image. All islands were we et 're tert countries with fruit AND the trees. Man and man were children. There were many ţ and not just two, man et and oamă. Just kiss bark tert trees et them laugh. But they must be carefully tert .

For more safety tert single put God to the test. He put et serpent to trick them to see if they are staring eyeballs stars. It was stupid. Do not do this. They have, because they wanted to be big. A et has started to bleed. God drove them out of the house. That land was God's house. Men and women had children .

The tribe Cain et and Abel tribe. And the tribe of Cain slew Abel. The grass was restless et Tita. And then they left and made their first fortress. A et of history began almost et seven thousand years. Aegean has now begun et seven thousand years. Two thousand years ago one of the 3, 3333333 Gods came down to all the earth at once and blood flowed. These words ţ and say tert ie, sfinxule. Only humans and Gods exist in the Aegean Sea. The elders have always spoken of God.

"Yes ţ i et Arpel a first!"

The day of the show had come. I sent an invitation tert ie killing et 's S i got the S litter before crime as adultery bed. I left my sword at home. My weapon was words deceive et i show how say Saxons,

apalling, which entered the swirling brain causing him to struggle in caznele Remu et books incurable, et and as I was just me et the slaves hypocritical tert him. Uncle i had not saving my comfort s and the s has killed him et and avenge my father, mother, mother. Now he's dead at my feet with the venom dripping from his caries, but the drama continues. Does not help to get back, just noble tert her parents tert OF THE. SELF-PORTRAIT IN 7 DEFECTS

Motto: "So, yeah, go ahead and tell me what your flaws are, because if I was brave enough to do it you should be too. ” Seven of my Flaws, TamaHarul, YouTube video

"It simply came to our notice then content to burn in the fire, for and if they were mischievous, I hope so they will be happy. ” Dante Alighieri

Prologue If you want to be forgiven Agree to be scolded Because only et the Your change will begin

Word to the ages

Retractations. The prislops of the world were not made for us, the stars walked every day on our streets with swords or lilies of flames in their hands. Everything but the killed olive tree is an illusion that nothing can stand in its way. But every soul is priced more complex than a galaxy of hand-washed ink in a basin of water, even the souls of the wicked, even the souls of the ignorant. Every soul can learn the revelation by the mere fact of being alive, the revelation of the whole dewdrops germinated in the storm reflecting the Sun seen through a cyclopean lightning. The soul is so alive. Because souls are transcendent and because part of the Seattle Chief's words were. I also, together with the White Man of whose tribe I am, together with the Red Man who put a mirror of blood and words in front of our face of the White Man showing us that we and our face is the white face of Death, together with the Black Man The Yellow Man and the Newly Mixed Man all have the same guilt that we all share, trying desperately to keep forgetting how you forget the whole universe in your loneliness full of the pain and sense of modernity as our Father. "In the Name of the Merciful God, Merciful." Only He is innocent, and although He speaks to me in invisible words, I am as guilty as the Eagle, and for all this it is true that after you see the lightning in the church in the hands of Christ, you need nothing more, you become living dust. dust that can say its name. As for the Christ of the Apostles and Father Arsenius, Christ fills even the void between the galaxies, and you, Lord, flew on the wings of the Holy Spirit in deserts where you fasted one day, and then fasted another day, and then fasted another day until all were gathered like forty pebbles in your silent and glued mouth, hungry and then just with the book in sight you drove the devil away from you and put him on the run finding peace. How beautiful you are, God. I told the world, let's say whatever you choose to say because only you will say it, as if someone is looking into your mouth, do to me whatever you want to do to me because only you will do it, speaking to them in Finally, knowing that I have only one purpose in life, I only want to be received into heaven, and on earth, though I am given only to see the wickedness of the world, I believe in your goodness, Christ, Father Abraham, Father of History. . The lyrics of this book are more than an artistic commodity, they are more than expressions for

posterity or even eternity, these texts are myself, in fact, they are parts of me and whatever will be in the future these four stories will not cease to if only my own heart would cease to be a part of me, and if at any time in the course of history any man should decide to take this book and throw it into the flames of a burning and burning fire, not just the printed letters. not only would the artistic thoughts and visions I once had in my bygone era burn in the pages, but I myself would have been torn to pieces and thrown away like Job, with the only difference that on this earth I am unworthy of the honor that the patriarch had. What I want to say is that this book, the last one written in Romanian and more than any so far, is more than just a book; I started writing it years after I finished writing it, writing it brought me the sad life I have lived so far to an alchemical process that gradually transmutes me, starting to turn my pain and memories into something else, to - turns my heart into something else, in what I don't know but I only know that regarding this volume of once painful autobiographical stories I look at my heart and not only that, I look at my heart not only how it is but how it starts to become after decades of crushing in dirt, the original of the book is written in my heart and even if I forget it someday as the writer always forgets his books, I will, because after looking at our face reflected in the eyes of God, we must look at ourselves in God; the stories are not extraordinary, not even for me, and I finished writing them a long time ago, but now, editing and rewriting them in an attempt to turn this clumsy volume of gray and dusty stories into a book, I see how the Arabic My letters turn into a step-by-step recording of a longing and unprepared encounter with God, life becomes an epiphany, and writing a Qur'an, and at the end of this third story, for example, at the end of these seven sins and in to conclude all the teachings, I can confess what I learned as a young man about myself, so that I can then forget when the beauty of Christ will not allow me to remember anything else, these poor four stories are the four arms of the thorn from which it begins to flow the holy blood of the flames that burn and not burn, the burning that washes the soul no matter how dirty, as mine, but he who knows his Lord knows his soul. Hadith returned. And this is how I found out that I am a sinner and even more so.

Humanity

Defect number five. A major flaw of mine, in this mapping of my soul, as a philosopher, is that almost unwittingly with the passage of time I build in my soul more and more a philosophy that can justify violence, with more and more valid arguments, in every day. From this perspective, humans are of three kinds: wasps, bees, and flies; I'm a bee. For most of my life I have been nonviolent and Christian, and I have suffered so much for it that I have become so ill that so many other kids in the civilized world.

I'm thirty now, I'm getting older, and as I get older, I'm starting to stop being as cute as I've been trying to be all my life for my own life-and-death suffering. Everyone says you don't have to respond violently to evil, but I say look around you at teenagers and children who commit suicide because of the behavioral problems of others. Adolescents who suffer from bullying should fight not against themselves but with the persecutors who repeat them every day to commit suicide in order to make the world a better place.

Let me tell you a great truth: Christianity does not necessarily mean Gandhian nonviolence. The knights of the Crusades were primarily Christians, not to forget the monastic orders of chivalry. If you have a Gandhi soul, do as Gandhi does, otherwise you are not obliged to do as he did. But the idea is that if you want to somehow respond to an evil that someone can't stop hurting, you have to do it in a reasonable way. The idea of this text can be summed up in the concept: reasonable violence. I don't know if it's true, but excesses are said to be destructive; from this it would follow that just as excessive violence is harmful, so too can excess of goodness become harmful because it turns you into a potential victim for anyone to say. Like the goodness of God, the goodness of the saints fills the world with demons. In addition, in every Christian country the churches are full of soldiers, and a significant number of military priests and pastors have served in all the wars of the Christian cause for the last hundred years. The fact that you can be a Christian and a soldier at the same time can only mean, according to Machiavelli's logic, that you can be a Christian and fight, fight for yourself without being excommunicated from the body of Christ, which the Cosa Nostra unions even do. I put it into practice, a state of affairs as a result of which a significant number of robbers surely end up today with Christ in heaven. Personally, what I would do for myself, I would not even do, because I got rid of violence. I think that if a person became too insistent in a negative way towards me, I would talk to someone from somewhere who would send someone else and that person would apply one of a number of options, most of which would be the person's physical condition. would require medical attention. One thing most people don't realize, to their dismay, is that anyone can be beaten if you're willing to pay the price, and more than money, or anything else, the price is a theological one that comes to me, for example. very hard to pay. And it would not be a sin, in any case, no greater than to throw myself off the block as so many grieving and innocent creatures do, because there are people in the world who have fun torturing their neighbor every day. Also an important thing, and in any case true, that I have noticed is that only weak beings torment others, whom they seize and can. Those who are strong and who could do it and who are a real danger leave all people alone and leave each other alone. That's why one thing I recommend to anyone, as a writer called to shape this world, is to lift weights, and if it's not too late to take serious judo lessons - which I didn't do in time and now it's over -, and to strive to achieve as much as possible in both areas.

If he does, he will at some point reach a day when he will see how all the Luzars leave him alone. In conclusion, I can say that if the enemy attacks you, say, once, twice - leave him alone; it was, passed, and health! But if he becomes insistent and you see that he doesn't leave you alone, and time passes and he still doesn't finish - which happened to me when I didn't have the wisdom to know what to do - then that boss needs to be corrected. , whoever it is - unless it's from your family - and it's the greatest good that can be done to it. You will not make the world better, but you will stay alive for another day, you will never make the world better but maybe you will learn a little respect, and you will learn that if you want to be exactly like I ( i) above Christ you will die like him, although then, only then, will you change the

world like him. Everything I have written about this point is a defect to me and I know it, a defect of erroneous thinking like a disordered compass, because while trying to move towards the immutable truths of logic I have strayed from the path of Christ's footsteps, being left alone. with my wickedness and in life it is true to pass like Hjalmar Johansen, undisturbed by any dialectical antithesis brought by her, the real power is not aggression but impassivity, and it is good to forgive, who knows, maybe there is still hope for me. By confessing this sin, God removed it from me.

There is no God but God

Defect number four. I can't write stories with more than one character, and my main characters can only be positive or compositional, like me, and most people don't care. Of course, there may be other characters besides the hero in my stories, but these are just echoes reverberated by the main character, they are reflections springing from the soul of the only character in the story. Somehow I can liken them to the icons, portraits or rather the pictorial visions of Marc Chagall, whom I consider the most important artist of the century in which we were all born - in all fields - and the most beautiful productions, although the beautiful part of his creation is in principle made up of some sublime scribbles of the soul of a rattling and beautiful hasid, as if all my scriptural efforts are comments on the work of the modern master Marc Chagall Me and the village, the village in question being mostly in my case my own dissolved soul, patiently sought again and again by an archaeologist in this land of mine on the rivers, under the mountains and among the lush forests whose name I still don't know what it means, which can only mean that I don't know the meaning of my own name, the sacred land that became my mother as ignorance can understand it, being in fact something else elsewhere, superlative and incomprehensible, and hiding it in what what we know about God in everyday life that we always see and do not understand and in the silence that we always hear and do not distinguish and the profane earth that I became myself with it, is the only known case in human history in which the earth, the simple earth, became light and shadow in a Dutch portrait of the Golden Age of Mother and Child, eternal, only someone older than Rembrandt was here, misunderstood as Albert Einstein's father. My whole family is earth, this earth, which I also become more and more, as time passes, with each passing

day and night of loneliness and silence, like Lucian Blaga. And I want to go back to earth, I can't really understand why, I want to be this earth like everyone else who loved me and I want to go to Bob Marley's concert with No Woman No Cry in New Jerusalem, what madness will be there, in the kingdom of heaven where my mother is already a Maria from the Sound of Music happier and younger than me.

One thing I believe in the gospel is that art is the beauty of loneliness, the loneliness of beauty, like God or Blake in their sacred madness, and I also believe that kid Anne of the Shoah is a master like any master has ever been, when I read it I can only realize that humanity is decaying and degenerating over the decades and centuries, and I am a peasant.

Hope in the dark

Defect number seven. I am one of the sufferers of this planet. They are, after all, what mankind calls the mentally ill, and Christ called them demonized, they belong to the most unhappy people on earth. (One way the devil tries to control man is by his pride. Two others, springing from the first and twinned, are by lust and fear. like most people on earth, and those who, as a result of theological mistakes, have come under demonic oppression, need an eternity of fasting, an eternity of prayer, and an eternity of love. may the image of God or my grieving and patient despair remain in love, in Christianity which more than Hasidism and Sufism is the most beautiful form of madness among the beautiful madnesses. darkness.) And if you are an artist, genius like grace is a form of possession, especially when you want what you can't and you pursue what you are not, and even true geniuses you are alienated and pitiful the more you poor wannabe, only Mozart could be a genius and remain a man, and Bach was not a genius, he was a pietist. I suffered a lot until I got sick, I got sick from the troubles, mainly an emotional abuse that lasted two years from 1996 to 1998 at a boarding school, then the permanent stress in the family and also the fact that I was abused as a child, and now this disease, which is really just an inability to cope with the harshness of life and a demonic oppression I went into due to despair, is a reason for my marginalization if not exclusion, people blame me like inquisitors. I don't even know myself but almost everyone says I'm crazy, sick and dilapidated, that's my life at home in my city, here where I don't live but only suffer maybe, here I'm oppressed, it's not for nothing that my name is Felix-Gelu Ocărâtu; but on the other hand, many bad people hurt me, and few righteous people do me good. But what to expect, we are in Romania seventy-two years away from 1941. This is the true face of

the world. There is something evil in the world that fills and devours the hearts of men, a horrible and unseen evil being, and the world is a beast as the prophets testify, the world is the image of evil.

Unfortunately man is an animal and in his hands we are, the hands that strike in those to whom God gives grace, because the heart of man is dead, they hurt because the wound is all they have. The world has not been itself for thousands of years, so piety should not be hated. Many poets of the past modernity spoke of the beauty of the fairs of Central Europe, but I can guarantee that there is nothing worse in the world than the Transylvanian street with its strangers staring at you from the gates, with bad women throwing you the same harsh words. sins once made until I break your heart to wonder how you will manage to live in this world, with bad people grinning behind you and their children laughing at you and mocking you, they would all eat you if he could, with dogs barking all day and stones hitting you every day as you go out into the street, the street is not a city but an entity, a monster that ate Jesus of Nazareth and absolutely certainly tries to eat you and on you, and, for example, the Hateg Street is seemingly quiet and immersed in the chiaroscuro Tolkien world, in which darkness has failed to eat the light as the werewolves eat the moon because the light shines in the dark, and the darkness is afraid of the light As the light moves away from the darkness, so go into the world among her monsters and know that you are a lightsaber made for the battles of light in the hands of Christ, and the world is just the scenery of Scorsese's Mean Streets, nothing more. In addition, as proof that the world we have made is unethical are the books of the Chief Rabbi of Romania Moses Rosen, in which one can see the condition of the victim among us of his entire people until almost all of them managed to leave, dhimis status - the mosaics they have had throughout history since the scattering, because even though you were the occasional leader who gave them rights, the masses looked upon them for the most part as strangers. In our country, the Jews were not accepted by the Romanians even after they fought in the War of Independence or in the First World War, and the Romanians took the second one against them. In the Chief Rabbi's books I see that even though you suffer, do not shout or confess your suffering, make only a few subtle allusions, not to the Kafkaesque world in which you were born but to those who suffer like you, when you gather, do not talk too much , you better get off your neck and sing and if you sing sing psalms three thousand years old nothing else, keep your tears in your eyes, not in your mouth, your words should always be short and the words counted and divided, greet the Christian on the street but don't talk too much with him, all this means that from 1989 to 1944 Romania was an idealistic hell, and before 1944 I was the land of the fascist vampires of the Marshal and Dracula, and only D- God knows who we are now. As for the world, for years, in fact my whole life, I hoped that any conscientious pioneer would come to a resolution that would bring peace to the world; today I see that the resolution is precisely this lack of reconciliation, this enmity between the world and me and me and the world, enmity that at least from my point of view will continue when I want to go beyond the grave, because only when you have the greatest enmity to the world, you can forgive her. For years I have wondered why good and wise people like Mrs. Mioara or Sister Mariana stay at their house, alone by the way, without going anywhere or to anyone. I think now I know why. Moreover, I want to be one of these urban hermits. The difference between what I was and what I am today is that nothing surprises me today. Nothing. But no one can escape his cross. More, much more than that. What I thought all my life, from my childhood, that I would be a lonely destiny of a man insulted every day, I came to see in the temple of God that in fact it is a destiny not only of me but of my whole community, much more, of all Christianity, more of all mankind. Mockery is not just my singular tragedy, disgrace is the known destiny of mankind. We are all mocked, my tragedy is that I do not mock. I talked to my pastor and he spoke nicely to me. I told him that people say I'm crazy, even today when I was going to church some women on that wonderful street said I was sick. The pastor said that people and our Lord will say that he has a devilish spirit in him and that he is crazy. And what I've been thinking for a while is that it's written: you don't pay attention to all the things that are said. Mother Teresa said that in eternity she would say to God: "You have some explanations to do" - I will not ask God for explanations there, but to the people,

especially to those in Hateg, the only city I have. I love. It's just marginalization and exclusion, it shouldn't matter too much, I can cash in on them, but I've come to the conclusion that when people keep telling you you're "crazy" - either stupid or ugly - and all you do is he repeats the same plate because he can't find anything else to say because if he found it he would say, and he won't let you pass without saying anything because we are talking about the world. On the other hand, people will always make fun of him, but even with the fact that he has only hatred to say, his wickedness that is not worth remembering can be seen. And the man whoever he is, preoccupied with the mouth of the world, has a hard life.

Therefore, world, because you are so and you are irretrievably lost in your wickedness, I take you out of my heart; you have my prayers because this is how the souls of Christians are required to pray for those who hurt them, but I no longer love you, today you have lost my heart forever and you will be the only one because only God can make you love, because the Christian soul leaves never to return to earth. I love my brother, I love my neighbor, I love my enemy, but I no longer love you, the world. I don't care about you because Jesus didn't pray for the world either. If you want to have big, gentle eyes, starve as much as you can and cry your prayer with a broken heart. If you want to be beautiful, suffer forgiving. If you want to escape kindness, be patient in your tears. If you want to be saved, be patient until the end.

Nothing will stand in your way when you turn the other cheek. Give grace and you will be given grace.

Live and you will be loved like no one else was on earth. And you too will love in your eyes from which myrrh so often drips. Believe and heaven will love you like your tearful mother. Because if you want to fly, you have to be a bird. Another thing is that the Romanian state does not allow me to practice my profession as a translator; I am an author published by a major publishing house in Bucharest, Romania and I am also a second-class citizen of this country, a state that by denying the human rights of me and those like me covers such shame in front of its Constitution, the only which can ever bring legitimacy to God and to people on earth. Mentally ill people who can work and have a qualification or high school should be allowed to work within the legal framework, so as not to do any unskilled work illegally. We work anyway, but we can do it protected by law or subject to a system of labor segregation in which we are as if handcuffed forever. I personally obey, I bow my head like all my ancestors, unlike Martin Luther King I obey this unjust law that makes as I said the shame to be not on our faces but on the face of Romania, but I do it writing in the hope that One day a psychiatrist, seeing the bitterness of our exclusion over the sorrow of our human condition, will not obey the unjust laws of this earth and will split the waters before us in the name of God. As for mental illness, I think my doctor is very good, but still these doctors are poor people who try to understand the mystery of the soul instead of living it, as the old healers did in the Name. If you want to heal people's souls, teach them to pray and pray for them because the soul is something immaterial from the same substance from which faith is made. And precisely because humanly I seem to have no hope, my life begins to become a hope lived in the dark growing and gathering over the decades like the Streiul full of live bread and fish in whose flesh flows wine. And I must believe in healing because even though people are not inclined to believe, everything that is alive can be saved in Christ Jesus, our Lord, dead and alive, because life consists in faith, history in a community of prayers, because the meaning of life is faith, and the purpose of life is prayer, and the most beautiful eyes on earth are the eyes of Ella McShane, and the most beautiful heart is Vincent's heart, because the most beautiful soul is only compassion. Madness is nothing more than the inability to love - because you can only truly love others - and so it seems easy to understand why mankind despises so many those whom it calls fools, because it knows that they do not love. . Yes, I'm probably Miss Gena, the beautiful cripple. This point seven should not be considered a defect, although the world considers it so, we are fragile and beautiful, like Lydia Corman, this is what humanity must know. As Mohandas K. Gandhi said, "We are children of God, like all others."

The world is very big and it has a lot of things to offer. In fact, the world's obsession is to offer them for nothing. But after you've been offered everything you have after you're infected? What does the world offer you after you become infected? It is true that in the world built by us the infected are buried alive thousands of days before death and no one thinks about them anymore, they don't think about them anymore, they think about us and we think about us . I bring a new project to the desk of the Man's Workshop. According to Biko, Gandhi and King, it is time for a better interrelationship and integration in humanity of all the lepers without caste of humanity: those suffering from AIDS, the mentally ill, cancer patients and rare diseases that our ignorance brings out of the world with long before death and all that the world chooses to exclude instead of seeking a solution, those who are vagabonds, lonely, or those who have lost hope, those who are intoxicated, drugged, or those whom Maimonides called lost. There are many lost in this world. They must be accepted along with those of other races, languages, or religions because by accepting them we accept ourselves. This is our homework, for the people of the 21st century. to the ordinary people who fall asleep tired on TV and the artists in their bohemian apartments full of loneliness and music, Like A Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan, in which they do their work, which no one else in their place can do; if we don't do this to the end, it means that it was only the claims of us, of all of us, and when only the claims of someone, whether that person is a person or a village, are not good. We should all be - but only if we want to - like Mother Teresa of Calcutta who, like a fairy-tale bird traveling between two worlds, cut out the flesh of her heart and gave it to the spiritually malnourished to eat. As for the mentally ill and any other sick person, the message should probably be: a little patience until God will offer the revelation of healings, as He gave penicillin, the plane, and the moon. Any disease will be cured in time, it only takes patience and patience always and therefore it is lowered from heaven. I invite humanity to a dialogue of minds so that we can all see how we too, healed or still suffering, can truly be received into humanity, because we must be able to be received because Christ said He would not drive anyone out of all who come to him. That's what I'm asking now, because there's only one Martin Luther King Jr. and Mark Twain is his prophet. And, in addition, “Oh! If he had written my words, if he had written them in a book! Let them be dug with a chisel of iron and lead, in the rock forever! ... But I know that my Redeemer is alive and He will rise to the earth. Even if my skin is destroyed, I will still see God in my flesh. I will see him and he will be kind to me; my eyes will see him, and no one else's. My soul longs for this longing within me. Then you will say, 'Why were we following him?' For the root of the affliction will be found in me, ”as Job wept and, Lord, you are the Son of God and you were baptized by your cousin John, then the Pigeon sat on you and the sky spoke telling you that He loves you and then you walked with God in the wilderness of the Jordan, where you stood alone, silent and hungry, and you were tempted like me, and the lions licked your feet, and the angels held your forehead; help me too, Lord Christ, don't let the demon kill me. When you are left alone in the dark, you see that you are not alone and that the darkness is not darkness, but you are like Jonah in the Eye of the Fish, as I see that I have become a Johnny B. Goode making the paper sound like a bell.

But I know that God heals you from your wound by making another wound in its place, just as a fire at sea is stopped by a huge explosion, God removes your suffering by replacing it in your soul with a steeper one. So cry and rejoice because this is love.

I'm a jerk

Defect number 3. I have always been proud, which has made me an annoying child since childhood, and even now, when I consider myself a Christian, I have a bad pride in me, tempered again and again by punches in the mouth and Christ. In addition, this pride makes me very vulnerable. I asked a friend nine years older than me whose judgment I hold dear, what is his point of view on all this, and he said the following, I am: proud, very, difficult, I am proud, wow, I'm so upset that I become strange, difficult to understand, angry because I'm bad, I'm not good, I scold him, I'm dissatisfied; "What I should do, I should always be good, I should talk nicely, only with" dear ", I have to change, it's bad, very bad he added. :) as a child I was like that, when I was a child I wanted everyone to admire me and all the girls to like me, I confess, :), and then because of my pride I received the opposite, I was a nasty child and and now I'm disgusted, though I try - I don't know how much - to change what my friend says and to reconcile myself to what my old shepherd says. I have lived all my life with an evil crown of pride on my head; now they finally put her down like King Ahab, never to wear her like Michael Corleone before he died.

But I see that to this day since I have become a Christian disciple, I have done so only to try to be better, not for the glory of Christ. I don't know how to deal with a supernatural being. What can I give to God, and what is God? How could I not forget God for even five minutes, given that he is so boundless? To this day, my life has been a spiritual failure. And the man can't help me with that. I don't have an ace up my sleeve anymore, I don't know what I could do or how to feel, and I'm afraid of the stone-cut logos as Private Alexander feared Emperor Alexander. My soul is a broken harp, and my words are gone. Maybe my silence will finally begin. “But I do know that I love you And I know that if you love Me too What a wonderful world this would be. - History, Biology, Science book, French I took. ” Yes, I don't know many things, but I don't know why, I know that when God looks at us he thinks we have a je ne sais quoi in us; God loves us in French, only I am so far incapable of loving him, as I am incapable of loving anyone else.

Cheever's poor character

Defect number six. I'm a messy man. My mother said I needed servants. From a young age I chose high things and my mother took pity on me as God and left me like that, I dedicated myself to these higher things so much that they left me no time for anything else like the poor character of Cheever. But I hope to recover, at least for now, as I have already begun to do in other things. What more can I say, I'm ashamed of.

Guilty

Defect number one. I have been, and sometimes still am, disrespectful to my parents, that is, to my father, because now my mother is with God. People also say that I was to blame for my mother's suffering, which I will talk about later, suffering for a long time but which has since led to her later illness, and I am the first to say that I am guilty. I will never say anything else. As a teenager, from the age of fifteen, when I had already suffered a year of bullying at Decebal's boarding school, I made my mother suffer a lot. At the time, one of my roommates was "advising" me to commit suicide "to escape." My mother and no one at home knew anything, and my mother was always trying to change me into different things and she was still my head, and I, after the terrible stress of living continuously for five or six days a week, was hospitalized in that room. - I treated her badly, partly because I couldn't stand the stress anymore - and I allowed myself with my mother because I knew she wouldn't beat me like my

three roommates would have done, especially two of me, who in addition to their cruelty, they also behaved harshly, if I were to comment; as for my former “colleagues” in room 3 Decebalus, I know now after a life of suffering and post-traumatic stress, I know that those people are cursed for what they did to me, nothing really good is for them in any of them. three worlds; the third boy was different and we even became friends in the second year - and partly because in the environment in which I lived this was all I had lived, I was shaken and dumbfounded by suffering, and also my behavior it was explained by the fact that I was abused, when parents have big problems with their children, this is always the main reason, ignored by almost everyone. Family behavior similar to mine is common in children who are abused in one way or another and do not end up or do not commit suicide. I behaved very badly with my mother at that time, I behaved like Hamlet, because as I said, she did not leave me alone; in fact, we can't stand stress anymore. This is what I have done. At the funeral, the teachers said to each other about the mother: "-Painted." For this reason, of my problems about which I did not know where I came from, my mother began to go to church, to the Orthodox, where I went, only I alone from the whole small or extended family, all my childhood and began to pray and pray. fast for me as Augustine's mother until I converted to Christianity again. Following the bullying in room 3 Decebalus, I felt and became ill alienating myself from life and alienating myself from people, among other things I mention that I no longer had the ability to make friends with young people older than me , because those who had tormented me in those two years had been two years older and one year older. I came to my soul like Nebuchadnezzar, can I say something else? There has been and is a lot of suffering, no one cares, this is the cruel beauty of life and to be honest I don't care about them anymore, about the strangers who are there just to hurt you. God loves them, that's enough for them. I'm beginning to believe that in life you shouldn't care about anyone in your life, just someone in your life. As for me, the way I've been hurting and hurting my parents over time, after everything I've been in that room at the high school boarding school, is my number one flaw, which I'm not right about. to God for forgiving me and I will never forgive him and the reason why I write this way, writing my life. I will say that although my mother and I loved each other very much, we caused her many problems for many years. All I can say is that I did bad things, but it happened after I went to boarding school at the age of fourteen where I was continuously abused for two years in a row, something no one knew about. and no one knows him. One of the few people who understood me without telling me too much was a Ukrainian abbot. On YouTube, I saw a video made by a girl who was raped by her mother's husband, the girl confessing that after that she arrived so that she even hit her mother. That girl is a victim and I can understand her very well. I can understand how a raped person feels. My mother was also amazed at my behavior, which she could not explain. I was tortured, abused too much, too badly, too long; someone who has never been through such a thing will never understand. There was a time when I was an innocent child. Then I was an abused child, which made me become a guilty child for my mother's teacher friends, that's all they saw. But my mother loved me and loves me from heaven where she is now, and after the world crushed me to pieces that she trampled on, she gathered me and glued me together with her love, faith, and hope. he saved his life with Christ.

A poor man without feelings

Defect number two. I'm devoid of passion. Even more, before I became a disciple, a believer, I was a poor man without feelings, my greatest sin. I have always been a cold soul, with a few, very few exceptions. The notion of eros bored me, since I read about it I wish I could be like John the Baptist and, to this day, I take music from love music and put love aside; For me, sexuality and love are not synonymous, and I have long seen a huge cabbage on earth, and I have always found in God almost more love than I needed. However, if we are still in a confession, I can confess that I had three wives, more precisely, three women had me, two prostitutes and a modern relationship, and I can't say for sure because I have many regrets, but I think this wasted, lost intimacy is the thing I regret the most in life, I shouldn't have done these things, on the contrary I wouldn't have regretted it if it meant being a virgin to this day, adultery brings a lot pain. I have a hard time understanding the fact that for me love is something related to religion, I can't love anyone, I think I would have refused Lady Di too. Besides, I only have one life, and I can only love one person, and if I didn't look for it, at least I've always been waiting for it. I have always had an old soul and identified with Huck Finn or Jean Valjean, and my favorite pastime was the search for wisdom I never found, looking for it with the magnifying glass of Patericus' book in the light of the gospel book, and with the passing my time and growth, many things have not changed. And in this field, as in all the others, I cannot say that I am just a customs officer, not a holy relic, but in sexuality I see something higher and I do not conceive it, at least for me, without true love, and true love for me is something cosmic, more, something mystical, something that keeps a life alive, nourishes and nourishes the universe with music like the forest, something genuinely romantic as romance once was, something like a family of bears stroking and rolling their muzzles. their pieces of flesh torn from walruses, alone in the frost somewhere at the end of the world among the ice and floating stars. And more than anything, I know that I can only be loved by a woman like the one in Angelus, and if I am the hardest man I have ever loved on earth, but I still know that God made this kind of woman for this kind of being like me. In addition, partly and for all these reasons, I still don't know if I want to live a Christian celibacy life or love someone, my friends tell me that's my biggest flaw. I'm an ice river, but I want a family.

The flower of the Holy Spirit lessons

God, you took me to places in this land from which I could no longer feel sorry for myself.

Then, seeing so many people lose their lives over time, my own life seemed insignificant to me. You leaned over me and looked at my soul, but what am I going to do with it? And also, what is the soul? I may never know, Jesus, but I believe you are the soul. YOU must have mercy on me, I must receive my life from You, and You, not me, must be my whole soul. The truth is, I'm going to die in the end, so why live like I'm never going to die on earth? My life is a Purgatory in which I will burn not without guilt until I die so that I can then somehow remain firmly in the palm of the hand of the flames of Christ, like a chipped shell discarded by the soulless sea and gathered in a meditation of the hand of the sage Isaac Newton once. Now our guilt can no longer be turned like a mechanical clock - in the face of mercy we are all guilty - it can only be forgiven by those who love to forgive. We were made to be forgiven, and forgiveness is a crucified angel. I, the saved thief, I, Israel. Thank you for crushing me, thank you for making me sick, because only after so many years of pain did I find you in the pain that seems to be with me forever like God. For my sake you did not forgive me when I was just a child so complete your work and save me, please do not let night come without you coming to me now when I die in my soul for a lifetime, Lord, jump over the mountains that separate us, give back my abandoned love, and in the end I can say that it is good not to forgive me, but at the same time I must receive God's forgiveness and if I want to live, to live like a trout from Retezat climbing always the same mountain of incandescent streams broken by sacred boulders, I must flee because the beasts want to eat me in this Tolkien land, 24/7 prayer, to seek every day, all my life, because only he who finds Christ finds his soul , Lord, I am in trouble, help me and, please, lift up my heart from the dust so that the wicked man will no longer trample it on my feet, lift me up from the dust of the road and I will stand as long as you allow me in the ashes before you . Master, how can I please you? Tell me your pleasure, Lord, and it will be your secret and mine, what pleases you, God? Tell me and your people will be my people and your God will be my God and your pleasure will be my pleasure, tell me and, as a beloved slave, my pleasure will be to give you pleasure, Master. Lord, I cry for you with my rhombic eyes, please defeat me and help me defeat myself before I defeat the world and before I defeat God, like Israel. Let me beat you, God. An atomic bomb exploded in my soul today. I dreamed that I was passing through a town and I saw a three-room house, among other things, looking like an old church, like the old church in Colţ with an attachment.

Then I dreamed of a very beautiful Mudejar lion of diamond-glazed brick, and next to it was an ornamental writing, verses as in the book One Thousand and One Nights of the Unknown Orient, the earth from which Christ was born, which said:

Look at the lion with diamond eyes.

His gaze is a sword with a clay handle.

Until she untangled her starry hair at night He had no one to look at his face again Like every man you'll ever see,

With the east wind tangled in sight, Disturbing the few harp strings painted by his parents.

I dreamed of many old photos printed on both sides and from what I saw I remember a city across a winding river with a thousand and one bridges, a photo with mother, child between children and a mysterious photo with a Russian pilgrim which I have never seen before. And I say: I live to worship and when I pray I become a gentle tiger and that is why I pray and I always have for what, please defeat you, Lord, as the only people of writing I am an average era full of fanaticism and piety , loving and failing to understand his love, but knowing what heaven is the true ocean of the world, watering the eyes of every man, because if I want to live, I must die, live to die, tell the story to end; I tried to love, trying I learned, learning I got tired, tired I fell asleep and falling asleep I died and dying I woke up and waking up I was alive and and living I longed and longed I dreamed and dreamed I saw everything that was not I could have seen differently and seeing I believed and then, only then, I wrote and writing, I loved, and suffering I just loved and, imperfectly, I love.

I need to find something else to write about, not about myself, because I have nothing to offer. I should probably write about people like Mohandas K. Gandhi, Mandela, Jesus of Nazareth, and others like them. I must be an anonymous storyteller talking about Harun, Giafar and Masrur if I see them in my world. Anyway, at last a water lily blossomed in my eyes, and now I can try to be a man in Christ.

to Brother Stephen

Read tert package leaflet (COMEDY LIVE)

Character: Fidel Moraru, a decent old man, retired, 72 years old, but with many diseases of all kinds psychiatrist (Cardiologist

The asthmologist Diabetologia Rheumatologist) pharmacist (Na et à sa) (Neighbor) Month

Fidel Moraru (entering the office of psychiatry hat in hand S and newspaper Subra tert .) Hello, doctor.

Psychiatrist: Hello, sir ... Fidel. (looked et you with sympathy) what is wrong?

Fidel Moraru: (dumb) Psychiatrist (smiling at him questioningly) will ever hurt anything via tert huh?

Fidel Moraru: I have rheumatism. Otherwise ... I always feel ţ it that lead another via tert complicated than they have to go.

Psychiatrist (many tert pleased) Very good! Watch ţ and re tert eta, I'm writing now S and I give. Until next month. (smiling) Heads up!

Fidel Moraru: These. At least they're free. Na et to me my whole advises et you to take Diazepam. I had a neighbor.

Psihatrul (cry absent) read tert the epitome.

Fidel Moraru (grateful) You many tert thank you. Hello. Good luck with that. (out uitându- et and newspaper doctor's office)

Fidel Moraru (enter the pharmacy market tert complicated exhausted) (Go to the stop- et i et i is the place.)

Farmcistul: Hello, good to ţ and pharmacy came to light.

Fidel Moraru (tired, I put five re tert recipes on stop- S I)

Pharmacist: (puts drugs in Saco et a.)

Fidel Moraru To get S and Diazepam?

Pharmacist: (more put S and a box of Diazepam) Read tert package leaflet!

Fidel Moraru (looks armpit, looking Saco et sub pile of medicines) (hard) To see, man, I forgot my newspaper! (go lăsându- et and pharmacy last money)

Fidel Moraru: (at home, eating an apple and reading aloud, choosing at random but entirely a leaflet from the pile. A radio is blinking, and the house is lit by a dim light. There is a lantern by the window. cite started AND you like the ABC, but over time becomes increasingly angry) (Read et 're Cordarone tablets.)

(Read et 're Propranolol tablets) (Read et you Alflutop, ampoules) (radio is on) (continues to read, cite et 're diclofenac suppository) (Read et you Orfirl, granules) (Read et you Ketotifen 1 mg tablets) (Read et 're Teotard) (Read et you levomepromazine therapy 10 mg) (Read et 're Serlift) (Read et 're Becotide Inhaler) (Read et consists of 45 mg Risperdal) (the lantern burns) (Read et 're Amaryl tablets) (Read et you SIOFA 850 mg of metformin hydrochloride tablets)

(Read et you Decaprel 60 mg modified-release tablets) (Read et 're Biosynthetic Human Insulin Lilly) (the light bulb in the room burns, Fidel Moraru remaining in complete darkness. He finishes eating the apple) (lying in bed sighing. Moon lights up)

END AND IT

Sirs et time Casandra (short tragedy)

Character list: Casandra, acting student year 2 Felix, 2nd year directing student Gelu, an elderly businessman, bisexual bartender

A pub with a bar and two round tables with two chairs each. January evening. No one inside than bartender, a young man with long hair in a queue, sitting with his chin resting in the palm et i thinks et of something. Music is heard, very slowly. The bartender is absent.

Felix: A fruit tea.

Bartender: Please stay at the bar, the tables are busy.

Felix: Okay, man.

Felix drink hot tea and start bartender et erase high lacquered headboard.

Felix: How are you, Bartender?

Bartender: On duty. You? Felix Na S PA. Felix and tea drinks, while their bartender AND I et its bottles on the shelves.

Felix: What kind of music is that?

Bartender: Here's the music.

Felix: I want to ask you, what 's your favorite kind tert him most?

Bartender: Soulfly.

Felix eats the dried fruit from the cup. The bartender go into the hall, et delete tables S and broom.

Felix: Do not put us AND your Patricia Kaas?

Bartender: I put.

Felix: Wouldn't you please put it on again?

Bartender: After the sideline is over.

Felix envelope tea cup, squeeze it between the tert and S and throws the co et . The bartender does nothing.

Felix: Wasn't Cassandra here?

Bartender: I haven't seen her.

Felix et and put his forehead on the bar. Bartender t et and put his chin on his palm. Felix falls asleep.

Gelu: A Dunhill package.

Bartender lust tert him.

Gelu: Keep the rest.

Gelu has bloodshot eyes tert . The bartender also.

Cassandra: Hello.

Gelu: Hi. Cassandra: What are you doing, Gelule?

Gelu: I have to go. You do not want a package of tert cigarettes?

Cassandra: I don't smoke.

Gelu A. Please let me il ţ her a package tert cigarettes.

Cassandra: What do I do with them?

Gelu gives Dunhill package, which had two tert cigarettes.

Cassandra: Okay, Gelule!

Gelu it is concerned et 're on Cassandra.

Gelu: What happened?

Cassandra stared et 're Gelu.

Cassandra: Nothing. My mother died.

Gelu is struck by something.

Gelu: It's funny.

Cassandra: Funny?

Cassandra laughs.

Gelu: It's awful.

Cassandra: Yes. Gelu: What else is awful via tert yours?

Cassandra: I'm schizophrenic.

Gelu: That's funny.

Cassandra laughs again. The bartender goes after the mop.

Gelu: What are you doing?

Cassandra: I'm going to the buddha.

Gelu: Come back.

Cassandra: Okay, honey.

Cassandra goes to the toilet where the bartender is struggling with the mops. Gelu regards et 're absent tert cigarette in his hand unstarted. Casandra regards et 're absent snow. Felix sleeps with his head on the bar. The bartender working, struggling, the absent one to tert . In pub hear Patricia Kaas.

Gelu: It's awful music, boy. Raving.

The bartender can't hear him. Cassandra returns.

Gelu: Do you have acting?

Cassandra: Not necessarily.

Gelu: If only that music would change. It hurts me.

Cassandra takes tert cigarette between fingers white, et and a light with a match S and returns the package.

Cassandra: What happened?

Gelu: I have AIDS. I found out today.

Cassandra: Funny.

Gelu: Me and my wife, Teodora. Kids are great, they will survive tert ui. the bartender enters the room and starts moping after adjusting the radiators.

Gelu: You escaped. You were lucky that my age inadvertently turned me into a Don Quixote.

Cassandra: Ha ha ha.

Gelu: Yes, CAM et something. I wanted otherwise. And this massacre does not end. Bye. Cassandra: Frost.

Casandra his hands on the arms tert .

Gelu: Leave Gelu. Frost is dead. AND I killed family AND I died to tert him. There's adormitu 'that, ţ i'm colleague. Go to him.

Cassandra: Sir Gelu Hear What tert say. Go to him.

Cassandra: Frost. Boyfriend.

Gelu leaves the package of Dunhill on the table, picks up the matches, and leaves in a hurry.

Casandra t et least esteemed in the Dunhill package bag S and go to the bar. Felix wakes et 're et and it is concerned et 're amazed.

Cassandra: What are you doing, Felix? Don't you want to go for a walk in the snow? Do you have a director?

Felix: Not necessarily.

The bartender turns his head S and ON AND you.

END AND IT

Agamemnon (dramatic moment)

Prophet is unknown et you himself: (kneeling in a cell to light a large candle) (TACE) (Agamemnon embraced him ţ and et its) (Moon in the window, leaves behind a semicircle) One night last without passing nights ţ ii but Finally AND IT Every night the light revives me are you a Transylvanian?

Oh, a moment of sweet baby sleep next to mom before death to be able to look at cruel death with clear eyes and loneliness. (at one point Erinia starts singing) Prophet is unknown et you himself: Light.

(Erinia blows out the candle, the light in the room) Father Prophet (knocking at the door AND TRANSPARENCY) (when no longer can see the joy, et and complain kissing) Here's a sandwich et I came to pick you up don't stay here anymore.

(Ex. Agamemnon followers of the prophet. When the last close u et to the hospital room is dark) Erinia: (singing) A moment's sleep.

END AND IT

The death of a hero (drama)

1943 CERN ţ and, Moorish-Byzantine cathedral Elena: Yes, I love you, Myth!

Priest: Po ţ and to kissing ţ and bride!

Dumitru (uniformed lieutenant of aviation tert get Romanian with a white handkerchief in his chest.

Prive et 're vexed around, amused, et and take Elena valsând it in the altar) 1944 Bucharest et ti, US bombing began in slum One child tert gypsy bloody the face tert complicated, sitting on the curb et and fiddle Plane with engine Take me et and me wings to fly Go-n tert country stars Seeing as its tert give him kill Elena, pregnant, goes on the street with two of her sisters and Dumitru.

Pi tert him: Go to the shelter. Te et expected!

Dumitru: There is no shelter for the military.

Ica: Be careful, do you hear?

Dumitru: What care, girl? Are only telegraph et and I made S and the war.

Elena: We have to go, honey. Do not get less et 're Americans that it's too big hardughia flying.

Pi ţ i: S i you you became too big, Lena, is et your extra busy American bomber.

Elena: Do not I almsgiving et your curse ţ ii those unfortunate ţ them!

1944, August, Bradu commune Elena: (scared a bebelu et in arms tert e) What?

Ica: (glad) Mitu has come!

Elena: (shut up) Pi tert Q: What Leno do not feel tert okay, I hear that ţ and her boyfriend come?

Elena: Dumitru ?!

Pi tert s: Ha, yes how you want to call, Lawrence of Arabia?

Elena: I don't want to see him ...

Pi ţ and (serious) What you and grabs you? Elena!

Elena: I don't want to see him!

Ica: Eleno, cry ...

Elena: No - I don't want to see him.

Ica: 'd like AND and see the baby ...

Elena: Constantine is not his child.

Ica: Why talk AND you like a fool? Whose is this?

Elena: Lawrence of Arabia.

Pi ţ and (with a tone changed) God il tert help il ţ and remember that you have S and family.

Elena: (naughty) I have a family!

Ica: And Mitu? Doesn't he have a family?

Elena: Veteran lieutenant Dumitru Constantinescu has no family.

Pi ţ and E et yourself a fool.

1965, Military Hospital, Bucharest et you Resuscitation doctor AND Stefan: (smiling) I am tert good?

Dumitru (waking up) do not et know. What happened Tovar et a doctor?

Resuscitation doctor AND Stefan: ballistic trauma left temple, to live ţ and lieutenant.

Dumitru: Can I get up?

Resuscitation doctor AND Stefan: I do not, of course. Im ţ and the infusion. Sleep ţ i ...

Emeritus psychiatrist Elefterescu: Where is he? ...

Resuscitation doctor AND Stefan: Tovar et the Achenache doctor will come soon.

Emeritus psychiatrist Elefterescu: (silent) Resuscitation Doctor S Stephen Here ...

Dumitru: Are your ţ and the doctor?

Elefterescu retired psychiatrist: Yes ... I immediately transfer Tovar et e S Stephen. No need to beat ţ and head Tovar et the lieutenant.

Resuscitation doctor S Stephen (s tert AND) has arrived Tovar et your doctor. (shut up) Tovar et the psychiatrist et psychologists Achenache: (a gentleman of uncertain age, but young et and eyes smiling) I arrived.

(Elefterescu looked et te) Elefterescu: (special to the doctor S Stephen, the face that can read a response tert IE distress) Wizard ...

Elefterescu: (pleasantly) Good morning tert of Tovar et a doctor. I assure you that there was no need to bother ţ and again. (looking upset at the doctor) So what do we do?

Doctor S Stephen (turning to Dumitru who is lying in bed) Tovar et 's Lieutenant pins et you two doctors came to help you pass ţ and this hard time.

Dumitru: (sad) Who are needles et you two doctors?

Doctor S Stephen (with mild tert e) Well, we retired psychiatrist, Tovar et the Elefterescu et and psychiatrist / psychologist Simon Achenache.

Dumitru: (confused) S and what am I supposed to do?

Elefterescu: (imperceptible, nods in exasperation) Doctor: Tovar et 's Lieutenant needles et you two Tovar et i want to help. You can ţ them to go ţ the hospital with traditional tert ie where practice Tovar et the doctor Elefterescu or you can ţ and to receive ţ and assistance ţ a little more modest Tovar et 's Achenache. It's your decision, you should choose tert him, but the criteria ...

Dumitru: I have only one criterion. Which one loves me AND you?

Elefterescu: (smiling CHILDHOOD AND you) I love you.

Dumitru: (looking at Achenache) Achenache: I don't know you, Mr. Constantinescu.

(Dumitru starts to cry) Elefterescu: No words AND your serious!

Achenachi: Tovar et is honored doctor, this man is an ordinary man et nuit. And a hero! He is a man who had to go to home by the many things that ţ and even in Bucharest et you, have not lived. Discharged on 6 August 1944. Please note ţ and bombing? Sir, this man is a symbol of our homeland.

Elefterescu: (bored) I remember the bombing, I think I remember it better than you. So? Do as you please. And. Achenachi: (sad) A hero, sir.

END OF SIT

content

Mocăni ț a The exterminated village (live story) *** Dire Straits box Dead art Artist nenorocit de destin Calypso Category Mr. Joseph Sava Drama a man et expectations The way back God on earth Swindlers with 88 keys Beast Beautiful "Let them die, you know!"

Let him lie to me The moon through the poplars Miami - Vama Veche Doar Dus Morpheus Nonfigurativeness Do not forget me guest Sodom not Babylon Man et and lost shadow Stupidity The Romanian shepherd, Brother Moftangiu In class AND seventh middle school Public My god's pulse director Religion Felix's suicide The Dog and the Bitch The village they live only pro et tii Þ ara pro et fish Voca tert takes Romanian village A few points of reform ghosts ***

The Romanian complex Eve's Fairy Tale The Romanian tragedy Elton John - Sacrifice My grandfather's curse The demon of unfulfilled love Birta ş ul Sin Writers *** What S Tim George Enescu?

My demon Style fugitive Esmeralda Suffering ţ the Nothingness Criteria SCHENGEN John My aunt IDF Woman Disappointed et i hope tert complicated Death How history began

"Yes ţ i et Arpel a first!"

SELF-PORTRAIT IN 7 DEFECTS Read tert package leaflet (COMMEDIA LIVE) Sirs et time Casandra (tragedy short) Hedgehogs (dramatic moment) The death of a hero (drama)