Motto: “How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.” Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Peace in a distance,
Overwhelming and grand,
My spirit cannot touch it.
I have drowned my words in the blue
In the green and darkness.
Isn’t silence better?
Smashing restless against the walls of my soul,
Photos: Adela Galasiu, 2014
39 words, memyselfandela, 2014
Rhapsody in Blue – A Great Honour
After 2 months of waiting here is the episode where I had the honour of sharing my story too. My contribution is dedicated to my beloved father, Ioan Galasiu and to Gershwin’s beloved Rhapsody in Blue. Many thanks BBC Radio 4. Adela Galasiu, 2014
Life on a platform
I live waiting on the platform for my destined train. Sometimes I overslept in the waiting room and missed it, but most of the times I was here on the platform when it arrived. I have travelled for a while, I have learned new things but when I got off the train I have realized it has brought me back to this station with a name that I am still trying to decipher.
It’s just a normal train station like all others. With a huge clock, with huge windows, with many people carrying around small and big luggages and baggages stuffed with their own existence. Many run after trains they almost miss, others wait a bit restless for their journey, but the most rare kind of passengers are the ones that radiate happiness when they see their train arriving. Not many smile as they step in their train.
Above my head, on a wall, is scribbled Paler’s Decalogue, for some a blasphemy, for some food for thought:
“1.Wait, no matter how long.
2. Wait, no matter for what.
3. Don’t remember quite anything instead. The only good memories are the ones that allow you to live in the present.
4. Do not count the days.
5. Do not forget that any waiting time is temporary, even if it lasts for a lifetime.
6. Repeat yourself that there is no such thing as a desert. There is only our incapacity to fill the void in which we are living.
7. Do not put in the same pot both the prayer and God. Prayer is sometimes a form of hope of the one that does not dare to hope on his own.
8. If this thought helps, do not seek to admit that you hope because you don’t have something better to do or even in order to prevent the outcomes of doing nothing.
9. Bless the opportunity of completely belonging to yourself. Solitude is a whore that doesn’t blame you for being selfish.
10. Remember that Paradise was , most certainly, in a grotto.”
No days or nights are the same. They are all different and this is a blessing in itself.
Sometimes moths circle around the glowing beauty of a single light in the night, in a dance that fascinates me so much that I forget how much I still have to wait to see my train coming. Their mesmerizing dance takes me out of my world for a while.
Sometimes the dirty light reveals the faces of all the unknown people still waiting by my side, some worried, some cheerful, same frowning, some left with only few more drops of life.
Life goes on on the platform. The days grow, the nights slowly fade, the time sometimes pauses. The most beautiful light of all is the sunrise invading like molten gold the quiet platform, flowing between trains and passengers, flooding the huge waiting room in which some just enter and some still wait for an eternity to finally get born.
500 words, memyselfandela January 2014
2014 – Happy New Year World !
The New Year has come, on silent toes or with a great noise, the New Year is here. For the happy ones that will party all night surrounded by the loved ones. For the forgotten ones that nobody calls. For the angry dominant man that beats his wife just to make her more obedient. For the lonely granny that feeds her cats and all the stray cats every day. For the tired doctor who deals with more and more drunk people and accidents tonight. For the tired mother who has finally managed to make her baby sleep. For the happy lovers that make a special night out of this change of the year. For the young bullied girl who wishes that this year her colleagues will stop biting her. For the ones that got dumped on Christmas or New Year. For the ones that know that this year their cancer will bring them on the other side. For the babies that have just got born tonight. For the monks that spend all night in prayer for the entire world. For the poor who today may have found a bit of extra food from a rich people’s party. For the abandoned ones that nobody accepts in their home. For the soldiers who may receive today a card from their family. For the ones that can still love with all their heart and for the ones that can only love themselves. For the ones that always smile and the ones that cannot stop crying.
God watches us all at this very moment and sighs as the New year comes. For some full of pain, for some full of dreams, the same sun is rising upon us all. And from the ashes of yesterday new hope gets born.
Happy New Year 2014 World!
Photo: Andre Schlauch
300 words, memyselfandela, January 2014
A Million Shades of Blue
Shades… A million shades… The afternoon was made out of so many shades between the black and the white.
The sky was not perfectly blue, the heart was not perfectly light, the hope was not really a hope.
If it would have been love or no love at all, all would have been so simple, but the heart was flooded by all those shades of colors and feelings and electricity boldly lingering in their touch. It was a delirium of things and images passing before her eyes while she was processing the remains of the previous days.
“Why is life not simple like in those romantic movies where all is fine?” was the thought lingering in her mind while watching him stop in front of another little shop, with the amazement of a child that has just seen something he was hoping to discover for a lifetime.
Entering the shop she realized that it would make a beautiful present to compensate his birthday. She missed it, it’s true, but not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know him yet back then. But still, she would have loved to have been there with him that day, and in her heart she was.
He loved them all. It’s true, they were all beautiful ties, hand made, real, just like he loved to feel authentic and sharp and real…
With a smile in the corner of her soul she sent him to have a look in the back of the store while she took the tie he had admired in the very first moment. 69 pounds, that was the price. It was perfect. The colors were perfect, shades of color, shades of life. The price spoke volumes. To him it would have probably meant an erotic thing, but to her it was a tangible translation of the moon dust trapped inside their bones, of their breath as they were kissing and talking about the muses watching over their love, of the raise and fall of their entwined souls, or the incarnation of all the things that were present in that very second when she wished him happy birthday, now, better later than never.
In the back of her mind there was only a song lingering talking about the raise and fall of the same moon dust that was still shining in his eyes just like that night when they have met the first time, not even knowing if tomorrow will ever come or if there will be a chance for another minute together.
The day was fading, in the corridors of the city, in the tunnels covered in graffiti, as the two lovers were getting back from a city adventure that meant all and nothing, while lights were shining on the side of the road, like fireflies dancing songs known only to themselves.
And the light was dying in millions of shades of obscurity, while the moon, all alone, saw the loneliness crawling back in the souls of the eternal loners.
500 words, memyselfandela, September 2013
Share with me your afternoon
A bread, a knife and a bunch of dreams that might be melted
In the same living mold.
Share with me all your passion
A bed, a night and the construction of a reality that could burn
All the emptiness.
I may flood your space, you may not have the stomach for me, our gates may fall
I may never be able to contain all your beauty
Or we may end up hidden in each other.
Dare to open your eyes
Open them wide, you may find
that we happen to share the same madness.
100 words, memyselfandela, September 2013
It was flowing, vivid, all over my back. Warm. Dribbling. Unceasingly. Waking me up from the tiredness. Waking me up from my own death. Lingering on my spine. Giving me the shivers. Flowing , caressing my skin, and from my skin penetrating inside my tired bones, and from my bones penetrating like an echo in my very soul, echo lingering between the end and beginning of me and between the walls of my solitude… The shower revived me, but it was a fading reminder of your hand. Your hand, lingering in my soul. Your hand, touching decaying flesh but ending in the core of what I used to remember as being me.
Life is a flow. It has been a lot of emotion flooding. It has been a lot of tears drowning me. It has been a lot of paddling alone on a sea of solitude. From the moment I opened my eyes without worries in this world to the point where I was scattered in million painful pieces wondering each if they still belong together or if they should stay forever apart. Life is a flow, just like the time. The time in the sand glass has ended. I have turned it. Now all flows backwards, now my heart fills up with the touch of your longing hand.
In the dark corner of a lost pub we are listening to seagulls screaming on the quay. The waves kiss passionately roaring behind metal bars imagined to keep us safe. An old couple eats supper while we share the taste of light and color. It smells like chocolate brownies and vanilla ice cream. It tastes like heaven and rain, like beads of sweat on your upper lip melted by my lips kissing your very soul. It smells like heaven and you smile beautiful like a rainbow.
300 words, memyselfandela, August 2013
Thursday Challenge – WRITE
Feel free to join the challenge. Here is the picture, write what you think, express what it makes you feel. Write a maximum 100 words as a comment or a ping back to your blog starting from the image below.
I wish you all a fabulous day and you are all welcome to WRITE.
He was long gone from the room, yet in her deep fear Lucy could still hear him.
His liquid diet fueled anger was screaming at her mom now, her frail voice begging him to stop while he smashed another glass against the kitchen floor. Though Lucy knew that not even calling the police helped, as last time when she called them her mom lied that nothing happened while covering her bruised wrists, just because she still loved him.
He was not her father. No more lullabies in her soul as she prayed God to simply take him away one day.
100 words, memyselfandela
I can hear You in every whisper of the wind
And every little grass sings Your name.
And every little flower rejoices in You
Like I can’t anymore.
I don’t need to put my finger in Your Holy rib to believe
For I simply know that You are here.
But I need You to put Your Holy finger in my heart
So I can live again.
Show me how to take a step after another
The way you teach a child how to walk
And in this humble existence,
On my lone path and from this pained soul,
Show me how I can find the shelter of Your peace
So I can return Your smile.
memyselfandela, July 2013
White Bird, shake your wing over me
Snow on my lashes with white snow flakes, graciously, silently, vapour like
Strew on the top of my head your wisdom.
Once I did not know you, I was living my life without your song
I was speaking so many words and did not understand any …
Now I have embaced you, you are me, I am silent.
Oh how beautiful it snows with oblivion in my eyes…
When you will fly away, I don’t want to be left behind,
Cover me with your wing, Solitude.
Pasăre albă, scutură-ți aripa deasupra mea
Ninge-mi genele cu fulgi albi, grațios, tăcut, vaporos
Presară-mi pe creștet înțelepciunea ta.
Cândva nu te cunoșteam, îmi trăiam viața fără cântecul tău,
Vorbeam atâtea cuvinte și nu înțelegeam nici unul…
Acum te-am îmbrățișat, tu ești eu, eu tac.
Ce frumos ninge cu uitare în ochii mei…
Când vei zbura nu vreau să râmân în urmă,
Acoperă-mi inima cu aripa ta, Singurătate.
I miss you
I miss you in a dimension where no moment is robbed, guilty or cursed.
I miss you and I’ll never call you, for you have not yet created the path to me.
I miss you , and the thought that you are away pains me so much that I don’t speak your name.
I miss you, body that complets my rib, right here, where you should just be and stay.
memyselfandela, June 2013
my love lost in another world, the desert sends you endless waves of sand
in the cold night when you sail from shore to shore asking
mermaids and bards and lonely women and shamans and the fata morgana
for the absolute beauty and the golden wool
seeds of whispers get born on my silent lips as I try to get you out of the corners
of this universe, me undressed of day dreaming, you covered in dreams
that cannot get real because you don’t set them free while you linger too long
in the chaotic nightmare hammered in screaming ancient walls
the springs of my soul search for the sky in your never seen eyes
so that the day when you’ll find your way back to me
you won’t step on the blaze of our burning hearts
while you’ll break my life in two with a kiss
Icy fogs melt
Over the endless fields of unknown
Covering my trembling soul
What will tomorrow bring?
Will I hear you
Or lose you again?
In your lost dimension
Do you even hear my voice?
Of loveless nights
Of exploding buds that have no more patience
Of tears and nightmares
And journeys I’ve never made…
Yet light arises
And in this solitude
There used to be a time when I was shining like a sun when I saw you, when you were here,
When you were my present and my everything, when you simply cared.
Now that you’re gone and given to all others and all circumstances
I find myself alone with Bach.
I need no angels, no pity, no muses, I’m just me with myself and my solitude.
Bach, my old friend, was right writing his music knowing
That all sound and thing in life has a purpose.
So just like him I bow my head in humility and quiet under the hand of the same Creator
Of the harmony of body, sound, mind and soul.
I met you once in a dream, then I don’t even know when I lost you.
Silence speaks to me instead of you, I have never spoken to it so loud.
Was it me in your heart or you lost yourself to so many others that you lost me too?
I should stop thinking that there will be in another life
A time when I will feel that you gave me more than crumbs of your love
They feel like pieces of glass cutting through me,
Like bullets ready to get out of a gun pressed against this heart of mine.
Press the trigger, murder it so I can stop feeling.
Painful hours when the night falls asleep
Only purple lights cram my window
Purple thoughts rolling circle under my eyes
All my birds have gone silent
Purple hours when the lonely night goes to hide
I set like a dying moon
The Sound Of Missing You
thoughts desert me
breaking like waves against the walls of my existence
can’t live with it, can’t live without it
cannot step out of circles I’ve created myself
every day carries me further
yet I’m on the same path
this painful sound of
My thought tonight goes to all people that have in their heart the sadness of knowing that they have failed in something in this life. Whether it’s a relationship or a job, a friendship or a dream that never came true, we have all failed in life many times.
It’s a lonesome feeling, it’s a painful wound deep in our heart that has the same size like the dead dream we had.
If you happen to feel this right now stop for a moment and breathe. If you need a hand to hold your hand take mine. And know that failure is part of life just like success.
They don’t teach this in school. We are tought that we only need to win. Nobody tells us that some dreams are meant to never come true. Nobody tells us how many times we must hit the ground before making a dream come true. You will fall many times, just remember you need to stand up again and in the end all will be all right.
No matter what is in your past my friend, raise your head proud and see how fantastic and unique you are. Don’t let nobody judge you, you are amazing, nobody has the right to judge you. You have failed? Carry on!!! You have won? Carry on!!! You are beautiful, perfect and unique, no matter what anyone says.
there’s nothing like this web of thoughts you bring to life to keep us dreaming.
separate with your hand light from darkness and set free your world of carved and phantomatic words.
can’t you see? the ocean of tears draws back leaving space to a landscape of love.
you can shape this realm as you like, you are the owner of this castle, creatures and fantasies.
at the sign of your finger life flows and the silence turns into symphony.
somewhere in the most lonesome corner I wait for you, I am your character, your shadow, your all and nothing.
100 words, memyselfandela, 2013
“Someone once said something to the effect of
“God doesn’t give you more than you can handle”.
If their correct, I hope God doesn’t think too much more of me, because I’m damned near tapped out.”
My thought today goes to all the souls that have suffered in this life. To all of you who have pain in their life. To all of you that had to face so much suffering that they thought they cannot deal with it anymore. I have read your blogs, I know so many life stories that touched my heart. My soul and my heart reach for all of you, I send you all my love, for I know what suffering is. I wish none of you has to face pain on his own. But if it happens that you have nobody in your physical life, I give you my hand and friendship and tell you that you’re never alone.
Tears cradle my sleep, stars smile at me when I wake up
You don’t need to know the depths of my sorrow.
Lost in your life, far far away
You will never know how much I missed you tonight.
A sky of cold distant lights, shimmering, falling,
Flickering restless over my night.
Solitude leaves the cold naked tree standing outside
Just to hold me like you never did.
As he arrived in the square his heart stopped beating for a moment.
Her memory filled up his mind, the image of the days when she was working on this piece, their last month together, the night before she had to leave, her tragic accident.
His eyes looking at the statue he remembered her saying “I’m dead without you”.
He saw just now the dispair the woman silhouette showed, as if she had the premonition of what was about to happen.
“I’m dead without you too.”
There he was, eyes in tears. Alone with her, lost without her.
This is my entry for the Friday Fictioneers Challenge