"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

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Silence

silver rivers flow
unbeknown to humanity
till the end of time

at the end of the world
turbines stand still.
silence covers it all

the light punctures
the solid darkness.
minutes to sunset

 

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33 words, Poem and Photography: Adela Galasiu, 2016

Life

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I have looked death in the eyes few times. For others but also for myself. I have been often told that there’s no God an no afterlife, but folllowing my encounters with death I guess I am too convinced of the contrary to listen to those sceptic voices. I do respect what other people think, but respecting others will never reduce my beliefs to nothing, on the contrary.

Most of us have an absolutely disgusted look on their face when they hear about death. Some venerate death. Some fear it to the extent that they don’t even want to think about it. We are all aware it exists. Most of us cannot understand it. But the same death that means decay, foulness, nothingness and still, is already part of us just as much as it has been part of our ancestors.

People turn their face away from death because they are scared. Or because they have been taught that it can bring disease or that it is unclean. Or because they prefer to concentrate on the life, rather than see the whole process, black and white, doing and undoing, life, death and new life again. For the immediate you and me, what matters is today, what we do, what we have, what we eat, where we go. But we live in a society that is equally one of death as much of one of life, isn’t it? Or maybe even more one of death than one of life? We eat meat, we cut flowers, people hunt, people get cremated and buried or offer their bodies to science. People sell weapons and wars are being fought. Some people thrive while others starve to death.

There is not only the beauty and goodness daily put on display for sales targets, but also the reverse side of it all. There are not only new born babies and blooming flowers, but also dead people laid to rest and entire systems that revolve around death itself.  From the undertakers that earn a fortune while dealing with grieving families to the little beetles that eat decaying flesh, all have a little part in it.

Some of the birds that have nested last year have died, and a suite of insects and plants contribute now to taking apart and redistributing every material atom of them. Every little creature and plant that dies gets quickly surrounded by a cortege of creatures, just like a circus that comes to town and gets very busy before the show. Behind the scenes of it all nothing gets saved or lost, but everything is transformed in new matter for life, and so new life can find the raw minerals needed for it to emerge again.

Many years ago, as I was dealing with the water that was trying to find its way into my lungs, I had forgotten who I was or what I wanted from life. What I had eaten that morning or what I had in my bank account had no meaning at all. It was all worthless and the only thing I could gasp for was a breath of air. I was, I guess, not different than a wounded bird that beats its wings one more time before it takes a last breath. A little part of me knew that it could have been the final moment that day. And yes, it was scary. Scary because I had no idea what was about to happen. Horribly scary because I had no control over my own life. There and then I was not ready to give up. Between few heartbeats and a hope for air it occurred to me that I had not appreciated life truly until then. And God how I wanted to live!

In a mysterious way, a hand has been stretched my way. Not only a friendly material hand, but also a divine one. Then, when I finished coughing, with a horrible salty aftertaste and a stomach full of seawater, feeling sick and wet, I thought that it was not the time to go just yet, not until I would have learned the lesson of what life was all about. I think I was determined to take life more seriously.

I think I understand life and death more now, but like a person that has been blind for many years, I am now awfully blinded by the intense light of the truth. That moment of salvation, the spark of life in my veins and the thought that accompanied them cannot be the result of an evolutionist theory, but are rather a mystery that my human mind is not ready to embrace just yet.

Other creatures are blind to the realities of our human life. Birds and animals and plants cannot understand our complicated life and needs, our food, our languages, our customs.  They do not consider themselves the greatest in the universe like we do. They have no idea what mathematics or science are, yet they are very much alive and lead a simple happy life. There are a limited number of neurons in our skulls, how could they possibly perceive the infinity of the universe? It is impossible. I am convinced that us humans cannot understand the whole complexity of life, all the dimensions that surround us, all the beauties of the universe and even less the mystery and greatness of the Creator of it all.

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900 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016

Photography: Adela Galasiu, May 2016

 

 

Blossoms

Spring blossoms
crushing (neu)roses,
defrosting (syn)apses and dreams.

Flowers explode
in renewed life
from the ancient mud.

Leaves waltz stormy with the light
Bees rest tired feet for a spell
before conquering another petal.

Sit and listen.
be humble. be grateful.
you are. now. alive.

…………………………………

45 words, Adela Galasiu, May 2016

Photography: Adela Galasiu , April-May 2016

 

 

Purple Rose & Light

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Photo: Purple Rose & Light , Adela Galasiu, March 2016

Osborne House

The Isle of Wight has many amazing attractions, from places in nature, to ruins and monuments. From red squirrels to dinosaurs. Countless tourists find beaten or undiscovered tracks and travel the Island enjoying the beautiful views. Yet the Island’s history will always be related to the lives of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who have created in Osborne House a family retreat and a home filled with many happy family moments.

Queen Victoria bought Osborne House in 1845. She had spent two holidays on the Isle of Wight as a young girl, in Norris Castle, the estate next door to Osborne. Both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert liked the house and the views of the Solent. But when it became obvious that it was too small for their needs, they have decided to build a new residence in the style of the Italian Renaissance complete with two belvedere towers between 1845 and 1851. Prince Albert designed the house himself together with builder Thomas Cubitt, whose company also built the main façade of Buckingham Palace.

Because of the layout of the estate, gardens and woodlands, Prince Albert made use of his knowledge of forestry and landscaping. Below the gardens there was also a private beach where the Queen had her own private bathing machine.

The grounds include a ‘Swiss Cottage’, which was dismantled and brought piece by piece from Switzerland to Osborne where it was reassembled for the royal children, who were encouraged to garden. Each royal child was given a rectangular plot in which to grow fruit, vegetables and flowers, in order to then sell their produce to their father. Prince Albert used this as a way to teach his children the basics of economics. The children also learned to cook in the Swiss Cottage, which was equipped with a fully functioning kitchen. Both parents saw this kind of education as a way of keeping their children’s feet firmly on the ground in spite of their royal status.

The royal family stayed at Osborne for lengthy periods each year: in the spring for Victoria’s birthday, in summer for Albert’s birthday, and in winter for Christmas.

The domestic idyll at Osborne was not to continue. In December 1861, Prince Albert died at Windsor Castle. During her widowhood, Osborne House continued as one of Queen Victoria’s favourite homes, until her death there in 1901.

The house is now a very attractive English Heritage location, being at the same time museum and hosting various events throughout the year. It comprises also a lovely café and a souvenir shop with many attractive items.

For those of you who did not have yet the chance to visit the Isle of Wight, I warmly invite you to spend few sunny days and discover it for yourself. And if you come here take some time to discover this  wonderful house as well. In order to raise your interest I take you on a quick tour. Please enjoy the art objects, the beautiful un-palace-like rooms and the great atmosphere.

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500 words, Adela Galasiu, March 2016

Photos: Osborne House, by Adela Galasiu, February 2016, Isle of Wight, UK

March

A gentle thought to all the women in the world

Mothers and sisters,

Young girls and grandmothers.

March is the month that celebrates you all,

Your kindness and love,

Your beauty and your smiles.

Our life would be nothing without you.

May the ones in your life love and cherish you

As you rightly deserve.

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Photo: Camelia, by Adela Galasiu, February 2016, Isle of Wight, UK.

Reflection

 Outside your glass walls,
You can hear my world’s calls,
But if you look inside you’ll see
A difference between you and me.

Airborne, fireflies reach my sky
Prisoner, your heart wonders why
Nailed to the ground it can’t simply be free
Without a difference, just like me.

You may belong to a paralel world
Where winter’s scorching, summer’s cold
And the reflection’s a bit duller
Than the innitial vivid colour.

Reach out your finger, come and touch
A world of wonder named as such.
Yet if you break it, it won’t be
Just as amazed as you with me.

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100 words, memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu, 2015

Photograph: http://www.texnoworship.com.ar/2014/07/14-mind-bending-reflection-photographs.html

3 Lucky Thoughts

I have spent years trying to understand why some people are so called “lucky” and some are not. People think that some are doomed to be unlucky and others get all the luck in the world, but recently I came to understand that actually this is not true. If you look at successful people and you analyse what happens in their life, you will realise that there is a pattern that can create the environment for what we consider “luck”.

1. KNOW WHAT YOU WANT

They say that if you make a wish in the few moments from seeing a shooting star, it will come true. It takes a long waiting time to see a shooting star and seeing one only takes a split second. Can you make a wish that fast? Do you even know what you really want? What is the greatest wish you have? For many people this is a real challenge. They know that they are unhappy but they cannot put their finger on what it is that they need to be happier. Think about this, if you lack concentration and direction in life, there’s no way you can get results.

If you find yourself in such a situation, don’t panic, don’t be upset, just relax. Actually things are not that complicated. First you need to understand WHY you are where you are. Then you need to imagine WHERE you would like to be in order to be happy. And then try to understand WHAT you need to do in order to get there.

It sounds funny maybe, but some people never concentrate enough or never take the time and patience needed to ask themselves these questions and find the true answers. You should remember always that you already have deep inside these answers. We all come to life with a given set of skills and abilities that make us unique, and somebody out there definitely needs your talent and love. Therefore believe in yourself. You are a beautiful intelligent being and you can be happy and fulfilled. What it takes is patience and honesty. Do not be scared of change. It takes a while to talk to yourself, but once you have answered these questions you will understand that even if you make only a little bit of effort towards your dream every day, you are actually getting closer to it. So when you think of being lucky please realise that first of all you need to know what you want.
2. FIND THE POSITIVE IN YOUR LIFE

Are you one of the people that tend to see that the glass is always empty? Then let me tell you something that may sound like the answer of a child: it’s NEVER empty; sometimes it’s half full of a liquid, but even if there’s no water in it, the glass is full of air!

I know it’s not easy to find the positive in your life, especially if everything seems to go wrong at some point. But my friends, look around you. When you tend to see only the negative, this is what you attract in your life unfortunately. Instead try to stop for a second and ask yourself: Am I doing something wrong? Is there anything I could change? By changing the way you think, your life will change. Think more positive and you will see positive changes in your life.

If you are in a bad loop and don’t know how to be more positive, try thinking of positive things. Visualise positive things that make you happy. Try to make your environment more positive (tidy up, buy a plant, decorate your flat).

Another way of bringing positivity in your life is to be grateful. Ask yourself: what can I be grateful for today? If you don’t find any reason, let me remind you to check your pulse. Did you have breakfast today? Other people around the world cannot find food. Did you enjoy your coffee? Other people cannot even have a sip of water without help from a carer that puts it in their mouth or a nurse that connects them to an IV drip. The list is endless. Take a minute to be grateful every day.

Then, if you can, take another minute to be generous. Do a good thing for someone that cannot repay you. Don’t expect anything in return, your reward is that you will feel good and happy inside when you see other people happy. You can give anything: a smile, opening a door, helping… Some say this improves your karma. I personally think that by being good and generous you will be in direct contact with the joy, the positive and the miraculous in this life. It is one of the easiest cures for sadness, negativity and depression. And wonderful things will happen to you.

3.  DO NOT BE AFRAID TO ACT, MAKE THINGS HAPPEN.

Now I will tell you the story of how Michelangelo has received a huge block of marble and has contemplated it. To others it was nothing but a bit of stone. But he was the only one who saw Pieta trapped in it. He did not know how he will bring the fabulous sculpture to life, yet he was not afraid to act. He started carving in it, smashing at it, working hard to get to what he felt will be inside. And he has proved everybody that he was right. There was nothing in the beginning, nothing but a block of stone and a dream. Maybe he made mistakes. Maybe the stone cracked a bit different than what he expected. Yet, all that matters is that he did not just sit there waiting for something to happen, he was determined enough and he MADE THINGS HAPPEN.

Remember dear friends: Your future is like an untouched block of marble. Nobody but YOU can change your life. You can make your own luck.

I wish you all from the heart to be happy and lucky.:)

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1000 words , memyselfandela, 2015

Photo: Adela Galasiu, 2013

Love

Heart

Wearing your heart on your sleeve is considered by many a sign of stupidity.

I personally believe it’s a sign of honesty, courage and real strength.

People’s attitude reflects their own inner value.

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33 words, memyselfandela, 2015

Photo: Heart, Adela Galasiu, 2015

Silence

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Photo: Silence, Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Moment

Motto: “If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start…
It’s the only good fight there is.”  Charles Bukowski

 

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Today is a gift. I am grateful to be here, feeling alive. I breathe in. I listen to a ring-dove singing in the tree next to me. I take in the air, the light, the smell of yesterday’s rain. Bumblebees come out sleepy trying to make up for the food they could not collect yesterday, hovering over lavender bushes and peppermint flowers that wave gently in the breeze. God smiles over us. The sun shines through the branches of the chestnut tree, my flowers bloom in the garden, their colours vibrating live a song in my eyes. Maybe they are, just like me, a part of God’s dream. Or maybe they are just a form of different frequency than the one of my soul. Maybe they are just strings that God plays with , like one plays a harp. It all makes sense, even though often my mind cannot even grasp the beauty of it all.

I drink a glass of water and contemplate life, like I do every once in a while, like we probably all do. Some people think that knowing that time is precious can make you lead a better life. What would I tell you if this would be my last day?

I’d say I’ve lost many things in this life, and sometimes it has felt like I’ve lost it all. Friends, time, love, children, relatives, sometimes even my mind. I’ve eaten too much or nothing for days. I’ve eaten my own bitterness and I drank the poison of my own ink-black thoughts. I’ve been freezing in train stations and on park benches thinking of why certain things happened in my life, feeling sorry for myself. I thought I was sometimes carrying too much luggage, but I think that was more the burden of my own life. Yet I have found out later that many of those things I’ve never really had, that they were never meant for me.

I have seen derision. And it was not the one coming from strangers that has hurt the most, but the one seen in the eyes of people I have helped out of their own ditch and considered friends. They say in my language that “the ones you don’t let die, will not let you live”. It was painful to find out what character some people really had. it has been gutting at times. Now it does not hurt any more, I have come to terms with all my experience. I have become older and hopefully wiser. I have learned not to regret things and I am mostly good at it, even though I can still catch myself doing it sometimes. I’ve often done my best and I know now that what people give is certainly what people will receive later in life.

Isolation? It is not a monkey thing. It feels sweet. It is not for everybody, I know it can be torture for others. But solitude is my gift. After all the pain induced by many things coming from the outside, my isolation meant discovering myself and finding peace, listening to my own soul tuning in with the one of the universe. And that is bliss.

Rejection? Yes, I felt plenty of that. I was one of those people that can feel like outsiders. Until I realised that I would have never belonged in certain circles of people or in the toxic environment that comes with them. So actually this was not a rejection, it was a discovery. It took me years to see that God had better plans for me , that He was opening me the right doors while I was trying like a stubborn child to open the wrong ones, again and again.

This is my path and you all have your own. Life is a journey. Some people learn from it, others get to the end of it not understanding anything, feeling bitter and angry. It may not be easy to walk on your own path, but it’s your quest. It all depends on how much you want it. And if you want it truly it will be better than anything you have ever imagined. It will equal conquering all your fears, it will mean finding your true self and facing God at the same time. Your days may be hard, but your heart will flame with the fire of all the passion you have in you. It will not be life that breaks you, but it will be you riding your own life.

I am only a tiny soul in an immense ocean of souls. All different, yet all the same. When I think of this I imagine a sky full of stars. The universe is immense, but we all have our own space, our own inner light and our own trajectory. I am trying to grasp what this life experience is all about, maybe just like you all. I’ve seen a lot and I still know almost nothing. But one of the few things I know now is that we should not be afraid, we should not let worry dry out our soul. Life is joy and we should experience the joy of being alive, the experience of our soul having a material body and interacting with others.

There’s no path, make your own. Be bold, be strong, be yourself. Try it, go all the way, it’s the best thing of all.

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900 words, memyselandela, August 2015

Photo: Lavender, Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Black & White Happiness

Who said that people were completely unhappy in Victorian times?

I have done a bit of research and here is the result of it. I invite you to have a look at moments in their life.

Isn’t it amazing that no matter how hard life might be the human soul finds ways to rise above it and be happy?

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Photos: Photobucket

Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Thought of the Day

Your life is not an accident. It is the reflection of what YOU think.

You have more power than you imagine. Do the right thing, decide to be YOURSELF.

If you want to change your life, change the way you THINK, and your reality will change accordingly.

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Thoughts: Adela Galasiu

Image: Mandala, Adela Galasiu, memyselfandela, 2015

Definition of Bad Luck

“There are paths looking for us for a long time

That are reaching us when we’re away

Looking for them on other paths.”

by Octavian Paler, Romanian Writer and Journalist

Translation: Adela Galasiu – memyselfandela, August 2015

Image; Photobucket

Red



IMG_2579IMG_2761IMG_28132IMG_0703Photos: Adela Galasiu – memyselfandela, 2015

Yes / Da , Octavian Paler

Yes

“Yes, It isn’t always wise to say
that the muses get silent among weapons..
My words are here and I hold them
as you would hold a spear.
Mother, forgive me, I couldn’t otherwise.
I know you’ve been quiet all life
and I should have , maybe, done the same
but out of our silence
a scream had to gush oneday
and here it is, filling up my mouth with hope and tears
and with a sunny sadness
that is mine, I’m not sure,
mine or my grave’s. But
this has almost
no more importance at all.”

Octavian Paler, Poems

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Da

“Da, nu e întotdeauna o înţelepciune să spui
că muzele tac între arme.
Cuvintele mele sunt aici şi le strâng
ca pe o lance.
Mamă, iartă-mă, nu puteam altfel.
Ştiu, tu ai tăcut toată viaţa
şi ar fi trebuit şi eu să fac, poate, la fel,
dar trebuia odată ca din tăcerea noastră
să ţâşnească un strigăt
şi, iată-l, îmi umple gura de speranţă şi lacrimi
şi de o tristeţe însorită
ce-mi aparţine, nu mai ştiu,
mie sau mormântului meu. Dar
aceasta aproape nu mai are
nicio importanţă. “

Octavian Paler, Poeme

Translation: Adela Galasiu

Photo: Photobucket

Water lily / Nufar

The beauty in God’s dream
slowly blooms, petal by petal,
watched quietly by the whole being
in a breath of silent bliss.

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Frumusetea din visul lui Dumnezeu
Infloreste incet, petala cu petala,
privita tacut de o intreaga faptura
intr-o rasuflare de beatitudine fara zgomot.

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22 words / 22 de cuvinte , Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Photo: Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Soul / Suflet

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The soul levitates above the ground
longing dreamy to
move its roots into heaven.

The matter’s consistency
stridently burdens the light
reflected by the heart.

Some say we cannot stop the moment
yet I still believe that we can
trap it within the soul’s walls.

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Sufletul leviteaza deasupra pamantului
tanjind visator sa
isi mute radacinile in cer.

Consistenta materiei
ingreuneaza in mod strident lumina
reflectata de inima.

Unii spun ca nu avem posibilitatea sa oprim clipa
si totusi eu inca mai cred ca o putem
tine prinsa intre peretii sufletului.

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45 words / 45 de cuvinte, memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August, 2015

Photos: Adela Galasiu, Wild Strawberries/ Fragi

Moment

Breathe this clear air

Put your foot down into reality

Feel life running within your heart.

*

There is no future

And the past means almost nothing

All you have is this magic moment.

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30 words, Memyselfandela, July 2015

Photo: Instagram http://ift.tt/1JtHHqw

What’s Your Version?

The “Three Little Pigs” is a fairy tale that has become very popular in our culture. It was originally written in England, the earliest credited story version being written by James Orchard Halliwell in 1849. The story appeared in a book titled “Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales.” It is not known if Halliwell, who later used the name Halliwell-Phillipps, created the story himself or has simply passed it down from his previous generations.

Halliwell was credited by Joseph Jacobs when he adapted the story for a book titled “English Fairy Tales.” Jacobs made changes to appeal to a younger audience. In the original story, the “Big Bad Wolf” was boiled in a pot and eaten by the three pigs. Rather than end the fairy tale in such a horrible manner, Jacobs adapted the tale, so that the “Big Bad Wolf” came down the chimney and burned his tail. In the Disney interpretation, the wolf lands in a pot of boiling turpentine, but runs away in pain through the chimney.

The basic story of “The Three Little Pigs” is a tale of three little pigs who each builds a home. The first one takes little time in building the home out of straw and spends the rest of his time playing and relaxing. The second little pig builds a home out of sticks, which takes a bit longer, but he too values relaxation time. The third little pig chooses to build a home out of bricks, which requires a great deal of time and effort. He values more taking the time to build a home properly over relaxation and recreation. When the big bad wolf comes to the homes, only the third pig’s house stands up to the pressure applied by the wolf.

The moral lesson learned from “The Three Little Pigs” is that hard work and dedication pay off. This idea that taking the time to perform a task the right way has been widely adopted by many teachers and parents of children for generations. It has became extremely popular in the United States with Walt Disney’s adaption of the tale.

Here you can find Disney’s adaptation:

In 1933, Walt Disney released an eight-minute animated film of the “Three Little Pigs.” According to the Encyclopedia of Disney Animated Shorts, this short film has inspired many Americans through the Great Depression. Just as the three little pigs were able to overcome adversity through hard work, many Americans believed that their hard work would eventually lead them out of the Great Depression.

But starting from the Disney version of the story, the cinematography has continued to adapt, and it is really interesting to see how the story has been changed in time, in different moments in time and according to different trends, into:

a musical version


a reality version


an unhappy ending version

or an Italian Mafia style version.


The story has , like all fairy tales, a seed of truth hidden deep inside. And it can also mean something completely different to different people. The moral of the story nevertheless inspired generations to work hard for success, with the hope that one day the hard work will lead to success and happiness.

Yet, no matter how you look at the story and whichever your favourite version may be, enjoy it.:)

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Memyselfandela, July 2015

Videos: Youtube

Finger

An old very faithful churchman used to end the liturgy with a prayer saying:

” Lord , please put Thy finger into the chest of the unsaved and bring them back on the right track “.
After many years the man was asked again to end up the liturgy  with the same prayer.

He said:  ‘God please put … ” and stopped.

After several embarrassing moments he only ended with  “Amen.”
Asked later why he did not finish his prayer as usual, the old man said:
I had a vision. And God told me: “YOU are my finger! ”

IMG_1325Translation: memyselfandela, 2009

I am a bridge / Sunt un pod , by Adrian Paunescu

I am a bridge over the river,

Towards you, always

Supported by nothing

Only on my soul.

This heartless river

Will smash me  into pieces,

I understand my condition,

But you also have to understand it.

I am a bridge over the river,

On my sad pillars,

Towards you always

But you do not exist.

You do not understand that it’s hard for me,

That I’m cold and it is ugly

That I am heavy and fixed

I am a bridge and that is all.

Where I get to go

I am forced to remain

Whether it smells like iron

Whether it smells like hay.

And at once I understand

That I am sad  in vain

On my sad pillars

I embrace myself and shiver

You feel what I feel,

More seriously, moreover,

Your permanent crying

I take from you and listen to it.

And I seem to give echo

And resonate in another way,

Stepped over by feet

Like a man, like a bridge.

I am a bridge over the river,

I am a bridge over the walking,

How many winds have written me

How many rains have deleted me.

But you’re not on the shore,

But you’re not with them

But you do not crush me,

You hold me and you drink me.

I am an elevated  bridge

Over an uncomfortable river

I am a bridge, you’re a river,

Are you a river, I am a bridge.

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Sunt un pod peste rau,

Catre tine mereu,

Pe nimic sprijinit,

Doar pe sufletul meu.

Acest rau nemilos

Ma va sparge-n bucati,

Starea mea o-nteleg,

Dar si tu seama da-ti.

Sunt un pod peste rau,

Pe pilonii mei tristi,

Catre tine mereu,

Insa tu nu existi.

Nu-ntelegi ca mi-e greu,

Ca mi-e frig si urat,

Sunt greoi si sunt fix,

Sunt un pod si atat.

Unde-apuc sa ma duc

Sunt silit sa raman

Ca miroase a fier,

Ca miroase a fan.

Si deodata-nteleg

Ca sunt trist in zadar,

Pe pilonii mei tristi

Ma cuprind si tresar.

Tu simti tot ce simt eu,

Ba mai grav, ba mai mult,

Plansul tau permanent

Il preiau si il ascult.

Si dau parca ecou

Si vibrez in alt mod,

In picioare calcat

Ca un om, ca un pod.

Sunt un pod peste riu,

Sunt un pod peste mers,

Cate vanturi m-au scris,

Cate ploi m-au tot sters.

Dar tu nu esti pe mal,

Dar tu nu esti cu ei,

Dar tu nu ma strivesti,

Tu ma tii si ma bei.

Sunt un pod ridicat

Peste-un rau incomod,

Sunt un pod, esti un rau,

Esti un rau, sunt un pod.

Adrian Paunescu, Romanian Poet

Translation: Adela Galasiu, 2010

Globular Clouds

Photos: Adela Galasiu, July 2015

Eyes / Ochi

In a far away land there is a city with hundreds of wise houses. Each house has a roof, a soul and an attic with two windows. Eyes scrutinize the birds that get back to their nests late at night, the grannies that bake homemade bread, the blatant children playing outside, the flowers raising their heads in the sun, the cats that purr in hidden corners, the dogs hiding their precious bones, the women that dream of the return of their husbands and the husbands dreaming of other women.

Every day opens a new color, a new hope, ends a life and begins others. Every evening sends to sleep all the rippled memories of the day, all the children and cats and birds and wives and husbands. Some of the grannies will sleep longer, other babies will get born out of the dreams of past nights. Some of the flowers will grow seeds, others will bloom, the stars will seem to rotate on the sky awaiting the rays of the same sun that has opened the eyes of all the children and women and cats and husbands and grannies and birds.

When morning comes the smell of coffee invades the streets. It fills up the sky and the staircases of all houses. As eyes open life vibrates, noises clash in the air, birds sing again, cats lick meticulously their paws and wash their furs with slow movements on the edge of wide open windows, dogs inspect every corner of their territory, children moan instead of waking up, wives pack lunch for their husbands, husbands go to work hoping that the day will be better that the other days. And even though life seems the same, it is always different.
In the city where houses have eyes life can still flow in unexpected patterns. ochi2Houses have eyes in Sibiu, Romania.

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Intr-o tara indepartata exista un oras cu sute de case intelepte. Fiecare casa are un acoperis, un suflet si un pod cu doua ferestre. Ochi privesc cu mare atentie pasarile care se intorc la cuiburile lor noaptea, bunicile care coc paine de casa, copiii galagiosi care se joaca pe afara, florile care isi ridica frumosul cap in soare, pisicile care torc in colturi ascunse, cainii care isi ascund mult iubitele oase, femeile care viseaza cu ochii deschisi la intoarcerea barbatilor lor si barbatii care viseaza la cu totul alte femei.

Fiecare zi deschide o noua culoare, o noua speranta, sfarseste o noua viata si incepe altele. Fiecare seara trimite la culcare toate amintirile ondulate ale zilei, toti copiii si toate pisicile si toate pasarile si toate nevestele si toti barbatii. Unele bunici vor dormi mai mult, alti copii se vor naste din visele noptilor care au trecut. Unele flori vor face seminte, altele vor inflori, stelele vor parea ca se rotesc pe cer asteptand razele aceluiasi soare care a deschis ochii tuturor copiiilor si femeilor si pisicilor si barbatilor si bunicilor si pasarilor.

Cand vine dimineata aroma de cafea napadeste toate strazile. Umple cerul si casele scarilor. In timp ce ochii se deschid, viata vibreaza, zgomote se ciocnesc in aer, pasari canta din nou, pisici isi ling meticulos labele si isi spala blana cu miscari foarte tacticoase pe marginea ferestrelor larg deschise, caini inspecteaza fiecare colt al teritoriului lor, copii gem in loc sa se trezeasca, neveste impacheteaza pranzul pentru barbatii lor, barbati merg la lucru sperand ca ziua va fi mai buna decat alte zile. Si desi viata pare la fel, este mai totdeauna diferita.

In orasul in care casele au ochi viata poate inca sa se scurga in tipare cu totul neasteptate.

Casele au ochi in Sibiu, Romania.

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300 words / 300 de cuvinte,

Story and Translation / Poveste si Traducere : memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu October 2013 / July 2015

Photo- Photobucket

Dinu Lipatti – Sonata for the good man / Sonata pentru omul bun

A tribute to Dinu Lipatti, “Greatest pianist after Frédéric Chopin”( as Yehudi Menuhin said).

Tribut lui Dinu Lipatti, “cel mai mare pianist după Frédéric Chopin” (dupa cum a spus Yehudi Menuhin).

“Lipatti- Sonata for the good man” is a sensible portrait of the composer, pianist and teacher Dinu Constantin Lipatti. The documentary brings to light , from the still rich TVR(Romanian Television) Archive, anthological interviews with Florica Musicescu, Nadia Boulanger,  the two biographers of Lipatti, Grigore Bărgăuanu and Dragoş Tănăsescu, and Menuhin.
You are watching a documentary signed by Ruxandra Ţuchel.

„Lipatti- Sonată pentru omul bun” creionează un portret emoţionat al celui care a fost compozitorul pianistul şi pedagogul Dinu Constantin Lipatti. Documentarul aduce la lumină, din Arhiva încă bogată a TVR, interviuri antologice cu Florica Musicescu, cu Nadia Boulanger, cu cei doi biografi ai lui Lipatti, Grigore Bărgăuanu şi Dragoş Tănăsescu, cu Menuhin. Urmăriţi un documentar semnat Ruxandra Ţuchel

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memyselfandela, © Adela Galasiu, 2015

Video source: Youtube.

Heart / Inima / Coeur / Herz

The Heart is

Nothing but a bunch

Of feelings.

————

Inima nu e altceva

Decat un buchet

De sentimente.

—————-

Le coeur n’est rien

Qu’un bouquet

De sentiments.

————————

Das Herz ist

Nichts als ein Strauß

Der Gefühle.

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9 words, English, Romanian, French, German – Memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, July 2015

Music: Dinu Lipatti playing Chopin Barcarolle for piano in F sharp major op 60 B 158, Youtube

Photos: Photobucket

Paris

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romantic and bohemian
like a poem

mine and nobodies
of sad heart and wondering thought

brilliant and wrapped in gold cover
like the smile of a lover

city of tear and reverie
beautiful Paris

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romantic si boem
ca un poem

al meu si al nimanui
de inima trista si gand haihui

stralucitor si poleit
ca zambetul unui iubit

oras de lacrima si vis
frumos Paris

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romantique et boheme
comme un poeme

a moi et a toute personne
de coeur triste et pensee qui etonne

brilliant et toute dore
comme la sourire d’un bien aime

ville de larme et reverie
toute belle Paris

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Poem in Romanian, English, French , memyselfandela / Adela Galasiu, July 2015

Photos: imagessource

Paris

“Je marche dans tes rues / I walk on your streets / Merg pe strazile tale
Qui me marchent sur les pieds / Which in turn step on my feet / Care imi merg pe talpi
Je bois dans tes cafés / I drink in your cafes / Beau in cafenelele tale

Je traîne dans tes métros / I hang around in your metros / Imi pierd vremea in metrourile tale
Tes trottoirs m’aiment un peu trop / Your sidewalks love me a bit too much / Trotuarele tale ma iubesc un pic prea mult
Je rêve dans tes bistrots / I dream in your bistros / Visez in bistrourile tale

Je m’assoie sur tes bancs / I sit down on your benches / Ma asez pe bancile tale
Je regarde tes monuments / I look at your monuments / Iti privesc monumentele
Je trinque à la santé de tes amants / I raise a toast to the health of your lovers / Toastez pentru sanatatea amantilor tai

Je laisse couler ta Seine / I let your Seine flow / Las Senna sa curga
Sous tes ponts, ta rengaine / Under your bridges, your tune / Sub podurile tale, melodia ta
Toujours après la peine / Always after the sorrows / Totdeauna dupa necazuri

Je pleure dans tes taxis / I cry in your taxis / Plang in taxiurile tale
Quand tu brilles sous la pluie / When you shine under the rain / Cand tu stralucesti sub ploaie
Ce que t’es belle en pleine nuit / How beautiful you are, in the middle of the night / Cat de frumos esti in plina noapte

Je pisse dans tes caniveaux / I take a piss in your gutters / Urinez in rigolele tale
C’est de la faute a Hugo / It’s all (Victor) Hugo’s fault / E vina lui (Victor) Hugo
Et je picolle en argot / And I get drunk in jargon / Si ma imbat in jargon

Je dors dans tes hôtels / I sleep in your hotels / Dorm in hotelurile tale
J’adore ta tour Eiffel / I adore your Eiffel Tower / Iti ador turnul Eiffel
Au moins elle, elle est fidèle / It, at least, is faithful / Cel putin el e credincios

Quand je te quitte un peu loin / When I leave you a little later / Cand te parasesc un pic departe
Tu ressembles au chagrin / You look just like sadness / Pari a fi doar tristete
Ça me fait un mal de chien / It hurts me so freaking much / Sufar ca un caine

Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much? / Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux / Paris, whatever you want / Paris, paris, orice vrei
Boulevard des bouleverses / Boulevard of distress / Bulevard al suferintei
Paris tu m’as renversé / Paris, you knocked me off my feet / Paris, m-ai daramat
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit

Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much?/ Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux/ Paris, whatever you want / Paris, orice vrei
Paris, Paris, tenu / Paris, Paris , once had / Paris, Paris, avut
Paris, Paris, perdu / Paris, Paris, lost / Paris , Paris, pierdut
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Sur ton pavé / On your pavement/ Pe pavajul tau

Je me réveille dans tes bras / I wake up in your arms / Ma trezesc in bratele tale
Sur tes quais y’a de la joie / On your docks, there is joy / Pe docurile tale e bucurie
Et des loups dans tes bois / And in your woods, there are wolves / Si in padurile tale lupi

Je me glisse dans tes cinés / I slip into your cinemas / Ma strecor in cinematografele tale
Je me perds dans ton quartier / I get lost in your neighbourhood / Ma pierd in cartierul tau
Je m’y retrouverai jamais / I will never manage to find my way there / Nu-mi voi gasi calea niciodata acolo

Je nage au fil de tes gares / I swim in the course of your train stations / Inot pe cursul statiilor tale de tren
Et mon regarde s’égare / And my gaze wanders / Si privirea mea rataceste
Je vois passer des cafards sur tes bars / I see cockroaches moving about on your bars / Vad trecand gandaci pe barurile tale

Je m’accroche aux réverbères / I hang on to the lampposts / Ma agat de felinare
Tes pigeons manquent pas d’air / Your pigeons have some nerve / Porumbeii tai au tupeu
Et moi de quoi j’ai l’air? / And me, what do I look like? / Si eu, eu cum arat?

Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much? / Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux / Paris, whatever you want / Paris, paris, orice vrei
Boulevard des bouleverses / Boulevard of distress / Bulevard al suferintei
Paris tu m’as renversé / Paris, you knocked me off my feet / Paris, m-ai daramat
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit

Paris, Paris, combien? / Paris, Paris, how much?/ Paris, Paris, cat de mult?
Paris tout ce que tu veux/ Paris, whatever you want / Paris, orice vrei
Paris, Paris, tenu / Paris, Paris , once had / Paris, Paris, avut
Paris, Paris, perdu / Paris, Paris, lost / Paris , Paris, pierdut
Paris tu m’as laissé / Paris, you left me / Paris, m-ai parasit
Sur ton pavé / On your pavement/ Pe pavajul tau

Je marche dans tes rues / I walk on your streets / Merg pe strazile tale
Qui me marchent sur les pieds / Which in turn step on my feet / Care imi merg pe talpi
Je bois dans tes cafés / I drink in your cafes / Beau in cafenelele tale

Je traîne dans tes métros / I hang around in your metros / Imi pierd vremea in metrourile tale
Tes trottoirs m’aiment un peu trop / Your sidewalks love me a bit too much / Trotuarele tale ma iubesc un pic prea mult
Je rêve dans tes bistrots / I dream in your bistros / Visez in bistrourile tale ”

Souad Massi & Marc Lavoine – Paris

Lyrics Translation : French- English – Romanian – Adela Galasiu July 2015

Luna Amara / Bitter Moon

This is a simple story that happened in the moonlight. A story streaming from my own life. A story about a small moment that will remain for life in my memory.

Maybe many of you have a favourite band. And I bet many of you have hoped or dreamed To get the unique moment to meet the vocalist they like so much , or shake hands with the guitarist they consider to be the best in the world- maybe it is not so for others, but it is so for them.

My very favourite Romanian rock band is Luna Amara, a Romanian alternative rock/grunge band. The name means “Bitter Moon” in Romanian, and has been borrowed from the Roman Polanski movie of the same name, inspired by Pascal Bruckner’s novel with the same name.The band was formed by Nick Făgădar (vocals, guitar) and Gheorghe Farcaş (bass guitar) in Cluj-Napoca, Transylvania, in September 1999, in Romania. I had the chance to listen to them first time live in Sibiu, and I have discovered them much more after I left Romania in 2011.

Luna Amara has played on stage over 200 times in the past years, throughout Romania. As a live act, this Romanian five-piece outfit has a style that combines heavy metal with alternative rock. Luna Amara is also the first Romanian band to introduce the trumpet sound into an Alternative Rock style, a struck of genius in my humble opinion.

All the artists in the band try to dedicate their lives to promote and support a modern European society in Romania. Beyond the poetry in the love songs , their lyrics have often a political message, Luna Amară being also involved in ecological projects such as “Save Vama Veche” (protecting the endangered seahorses), “Save Roşia Montană” (protecting the wildlife and natural surroundings of a mountain area from cyanide poisoning caused by companies that extract gold) and other social awareness projects.

“Luna Amară” is one of Romania’s most successful rock bands and was the top selling artist in a national chain of music stores (Hollywood Music & Film) from July until September 2004. Their songs “Folclor” (“Folklore”), “Gri Dorian” (“Dorian Grey”), “Roşu aprins” (“Scarlet”) and “Ego nr. 4” reached number one in airplay charts at local radio stations around the country.

Throughout the years they have released several albums: “Asfalt” (Asphalt), “Loc lipsă” (Missing Place), “Don’t Let Your Dreams Fall Asleep”(where mainly the acoustic side of the band is underlined), “Pietre in Alb” (Stones in White), “Live la Conti” (Live at Conti). The band performed tours all over Romania in clubs and open air locations as well as shows in the Netherlands, Germany, Bulgaria, Turkey and played live at the Sziget Festival in Budapest.


They may be neither angels, nor heroes, but they are some extremely talented people. It is more than their personal love and feelings decanted in their music, it is also their passion and talent for music. I used to detach myself from stress listening to Deftones, Metallica and Incubus, but they are nowhere near Luna Amara. At least to me, because I am Romanian and Bitter Moon sing the longing and the pain in my native language. But it is not only this. I have discovered such beautiful blue sad profound lyrics attached to their music. They contribute with amazing poetry, not only with extremely versatile sound. Their songs are colourful, they bleed and ache, they are just beautifully alive.

Two years ago when I was back in Romania for few days I have tried desperately to buy their “Stones in White” album, yet no music shop or online store had it available, it was sold out. After a long online research I managed to find a link and I was promised to get the album the next night, when I was going back to Cluj in the evening for my next morning flight back to the UK.

The evening came, I took a taxi and we drove in the evening to the address where the recording studio was. It was a very simple encounter, but it has struck me very profoundly: Nick Fagadar, the founder of Luna Amara, met me almost in the middle of the night because he cared that somebody really wanted to have their album. He handed it to me with a kind smile , he shook my hand like a friend , with no pretentious gestures, and wished me to enjoy the music. I have been truly honoured not only to get the long desired album, but mostly by getting to meet in person the legend behind it.

There was something beautiful that I cannot describe radiating through him as we left him behind. I could not help but smile. The moon was shining, yet this time not bitter, but full of hope and mysterious meanings.

800 words, Memyselfandela , 2015

Photos: Google

Video: Youtube

Marooned / Naufragiat

Motto: “We are cut, we are fallen.
We are become part of that unfeeling universe that sleeps
when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie asleep.” /

” Suntem secerati, suntem cazuti. Am devenit parte a
acelui univers lipsit de simturi care doarme cand suntem cel mai activi
si mocneste ca jarul cand ne intindem in somn.”

Virginia Woolf, The Waves/ Virginia Woolf, Valurile

IMG_6066

I am lost like a stone
Submerged in the depths
Of this endless reality
In which our thoughts sometimes touch.

They come and go
Sometimes tormented like an agony
Sometimes calm like a madman
Marooned on an island of thousand silences.

Don’t keep me in your pocket forever,
Throw me far away,
Just enjoy the moment of
My passing ripples through your existence.

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Sunt pierdut ca o piatra
Scufundata in adancurile
Acestei realitati fara sfarsit
In care gandurile noastre uneori se ating.

Ele vin si pleaca
Uneori chinuite ca o agonie
Alteori calme precum un nebun
Naufragiat pe o insula a miilor de taceri.

Nu ma tine in buzunarul tau pentru totdeauna
Arunca-ma in departare,
Bucura-te doar de momentul
Trecatoarelor mele unde prin existenta ta.

memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, 63 words, 2014

Photo: Photobucket.

At Night

At night
She holds you
In her warm embrace
Quiet companion
You’ve got her
Under your skin.

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Poem: memyselfandela, © Adela Galasiu 2013

Image: http://womeninadvertisements.blogspot.co.uk

Nobody

black_and_white

I’m nobody, who are you?
Yes, nobody, no face, no style, no fashion
far away from the fun and the bursts of joy.

I’m nobody, yes, yet
the fact that my heart is not full of myself
leaves all this space free for you.

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memyselfandela, Adela Galasiu 2013

Photo: Photobucket

Video

Luna Amara – Rosu Aprins / The Bitter Moon – Burning Red

“N-ai cum sa lasi cum sa uiti / You can’t leave, you can’t forget
Totul in noapte / Everything in the night
Oricat ti-ar parea de usor / No matter how easy it may seem
Stinge o stea – si ramai pe sub pleoape / Burn out a star – and remain under the eyelids
Stinge si luna amara cu un nor / Also burn out the bitter moon with a cloud

Rosu aprins – coloreaza-mi tacerea / Bright red – colour my silence
Rosu aprins – pe un suras ce s-a stins / Burning red – on a smile that has died
Rosu aprins – sa-mi ascunda durerea / Burning red – to cover my pain
In noapte ma pierd – cu noaptea te iert / in the night I lose myself – with the night I forgive you

Te ascund intre coaste ce dor / I hide you between hurting ribs
Cu luna amara / With the bitter moon
Cand tot ce-mi doresc e rosu aprins / When everything I long for is burning red
Nu vreau sa te pierd in lumea de-afara / I don’t want to lose you in the outside world
Ramai neschimbata – rosu nestins! / Remain unchanged – unextinguished red!”

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Luna Amara, Romanian Rock Band

Translation: memyselfandela, 2012

the mess

can’t live like this
yet we insanely do it
we hate each other
though completely in love
cannot connect but
we are one

lose me in the morning
I’ll win you in the evening
oh what an incongruence
such a fight
what a fine mess

Memyselfandela, 2012

remains of the day

days have passed with a crazy velocity… most of the friends that she managed to make in the year have left. she finally unpacked her suitcases, cleaned the whole apartment, disappointed that all changes so quickly… fortunately she was not left completely alone. there still was someone for the next three weeks, someone to drink coffee with and a companion for concerts….


… concerts.. yes, all those concerts… yesterday glass and smith. there was strike again, she had to walk again, she walked the distance between four subway stations in the heat of the ending day, suffocating heat, thinking to take a taxi to return after the concert because the area was creepy… she arrived two hours too early, there were only ten peaple ahead of her(including a sixty years old lady with short hair , blue and white strands and the biggest tattoos that she has ever seen… on the right leg a huge violet grape, on the right foot the tattoo was so abstract that it seemed impossible to realize what it was meant to represent…)

this time the concert was at odeon, in the smallest of the two amphitheatres… about 1000 people but clearly the most  various public she had ever seen attending a concert… with curious eyes she explored the faces and dresses and people and made herself an idea about the everything… sitting in the second row, she was very close to the stage, next to two girls that were smiling and talking about their sexy fifty years old literature teacher sitting in the first row…the guy was looking like one of the teachers of philip roth….

and it all begun well and ended wrong… patti smith is the perfect voice for ginsberg’s poems and it would have been just marvellous if she would not have started talking on her own, expressing her own ideas… at the end a big group of vintage enthusiasts run in front of the stage bothering everybody … they have started screaming happily “people have the power” raising their fists and  militating as if right that very moment they were about to start a new revolution….

but of course, this disappointment did not spoil the rest of the concert for her. she adored philip glass from the first moment, thinking that he deserves a title of nobility like “Sir”… she adored him from the moment he said in a very elegant french that he was about to play… by metamorphosis two she was already holding her breath since she could only hear the piano and the crickets….

conclusion: she should better read ginsberg on her own, and she deffinitely must see philip glass one more time, in one of his concerts alone… and if cohen and glass (and ginsberg) all met in the buddhist ideas, there must be a reason. she alone was convinced she is not compatible with that inner peace for which the western people find no words, but she would have loved at least once to try it…

when she returned she found no taxi… among thousands of curses said in her mind in the honour of the greatness of the French nation and her strikes, after ten minutes of fast walking , she noticed with de corner of her eye the pencil tower from part-dieu, exactly in the opposite direction that she was supposed to follow to get back home… she returned , passed again in front of the same arab merchant sleeping on his chair… she and her lovely 70s dress that she wore especially for ginsberg… maybe if she would not have wore this dress it would not have all ended in this hippie apocalypse…

she arrived home cursing the country she declared one of idiots and the idiots that strike all the time and also herself, the greatest idiot, for not being capable, not even at her age, to learn how to ride the bicycle.

memyselfandela, 2012

fragile poems / poeme fragile

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fragile poems grow

written by old nature’s hand

roses are blooming

——————-

poeme fragile crescand

scrise de vechea mana a naturii

trandafiri inflorind

Memyselfandela, 2012

To survive you must be the strongest… / Ca sa supravietuiesti trebuie sa fii cel mai puternic…

….. or the smartest??? /…. sau cel mai inteligent???

in blue

losing myself

in blue eyes

which plunge

the very essence of me

to unfathomable depths

of azure

hurled to highest stratosphere

a human rocket

launched by penetrating gaze

of cobalt light sky

surrendering to

blue eyes

where dark lashes dart

flit – soar – dance

as birds above white capped waves                    

on twin sapphire seas

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memyselfandela, 2012

Photo: Photobucket

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