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What language do you dream in?
Read more: What language do you dream in?The brain is a funny thing. And funny things happen when your brain goes on vacation. I consider myself bilingual (Romanian and English) and I’ve been living in Germany for more than 15 years now, but never would I have thought that the German language would end up infiltrating… my dreams! My dreams, yes. For…
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Best of Romania 2021
Read more: Best of Romania 2021“It is said that some Bolsheviks, deeming that a love based on choice and exclusivity was only a prejudice infiltrated by the bourgeois spirit, tried to abolish it, treating love as an instinct, an instinct like all the others, falsely adorned hitherto with a passionate halo. (…)The big mistake was that they thought love resides…
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Children saying scary things
Read more: Children saying scary thingsMy daughter (10), elated that she got into the class she wanted and avoided the all-girls class: ‘All-girls classes suck!’ Me, naively: ‘Why?’ My studious 10-year-old: ‘Because they’d be all prissy and there’d be no boys to fall in love with.’ Ladies and gentlemen, the main purpose of public schooling, right there… in case there…
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Wind in the tall grasses
Read more: Wind in the tall grassesToday I will write about the wind in the tall grasses. Lost, immaterial, like our souls, Just a passage from one place to another. Just air. Just breath. Soft stalks undulating. It’s ballet. Beautiful submission. Soothing choreography under a ruthless sun. People pass by on their bicycles Barely noticing. Barely noticing the road leads nowhere.…
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Child’s play
Read more: Child’s playA boy drags an empty bag through the sand. He’s tied it at the end of a rope.The wind blows into it, swelling it, ruffling it,making it float and thennearly ripping it out of his hand. The bag is as transparent and light as this boy’s soul.Boy, breath, wind blowing, soul… Later, when it’s full…
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Suspended
Read more: SuspendedYou and I on this small bridge where one can watch the passage of time in liquid form, the voices it drowns, the secrets it buries, the things that will never again be.
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Reawakening
Read more: ReawakeningHear them shriek: virgin vitality, gratuitous vigor. Gull-ibility?…
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Inarticulate
Read more: InarticulateSo little left to express. Spleen? Acedia? The signifiers have lost their signifieds and are straying. Ideas, heavy as rock, sink to the bottom of rivers waiting to be swept away by a sudden flood of effervescence or settle, with the mud, along the banks of dam lakes and rot. Occasionally, some debris resurfaces –…
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Scrisoare către Biserica mea
Read more: Scrisoare către Biserica meaSimt cum alunec. Simt cum mă pierd: tot mai adesea pe margini, tot mai adesea departe. Simt cum mă smintește fiecare creștet de femeie încovoiat și îmbrobodit, de parcă demnitatea luminoasă a făpturii umane, suficient de bună ca Dumnezeu să coboare în ea, e o vinovăție perpetuă ce trebuie mereu împilată și pironită cu ochii…
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New Year’s Eve 2020
Read more: New Year’s Eve 2020You can tell by the fireworks. To this day, people’s hearts are set to the clocks in their homelands, far away. They go off at different times, then the smoke clears and the sky remains mysterious and quiet until the next full hour. You can tell by the fireworks. To this fateful day, the last…
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Writer Between Worlds 