Dupa furtuna / After the storm

The grass was greener

The light was brighter

The taste was sweeter

The nights of wonder

.............................

Forever and ever

Pink Floyd - High Hopes, The Division Bell Album

Am vazut furtuna rupandu-le frunze, aplecandu-le flori si spaland polenul, ba chiar smulgandu-i din radacini. Cu toate astea, pomii primesc totul firesc. Cu demnitate. Doar noi, oamenii, ne plangem. Si-aproape de fiecare data dupa o furtuna, ne intrebam ‘pentru ce am fost pedepsiti’?...

Daca o clipa am opri intrebarea la jumatate si-am privi in jurul nostru, am putea vedea ca dupa furtuna lumina e mai clara, aerul mai curat si aromele mai patrunzatoare. Ca cerul e mai cer, pamantul mai pamant si verdele mai verde… O alta perspectiva si totusi aceeasi. Doar mai limpede. Un punct si de la capat, scris pe ramasitele frunzelor si florilor noastre, spulberate de furtuna. Poate un nou inceput spre care, altfel, n-am fi avut curajul si increderea sa pornim?!...

I saw the storm breaking their leaves, bending their flowers and washing away the pollen, even pulling their roots out of the ground.  Nevertheless, trees accept everything artlessly. With dignity. Only we, human beings, like to complain of. And almost after every storm that occurs, we ask ‘what have we been punished for ‘?

If only we could stop that question for a second and look around us, we would see how light is clearer, the air is crisper and the flavours louder, after a storm. How the sky is sky-er, the earth is earth-er and the green is greener…  Another perspective and yet the same. Only clearer. Full stop and start a new line, written on our shattered leaves and flowers.  Perhaps a new beginning we never would’ve had the faith and courage to start walking to?!...

Pink Floyd - High Hopes

Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name.


You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?


Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun sweet berries of the earth
Come roll in all the reaches all around you
And for once never wonder what they're worth.

The rainstorms and the rivers are my brothers
The otter and heron are my friends
And we are all conned to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends.


How high can sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know.
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind.


You can own the earth and still,
All you own is earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind...

(Walt Disney's "Pocahontas" - Colors of the wind)

Apusul de soare din seara asta mi-a adus in minte acest cantec extraordinar. Tuturor celor ce hoinariti pe aceasta carare, va multumesc, o noapte buna!

Tonight's sunset remembered me this beautiful song. To all of you strolling on this trail, thank you and have a good night!

demnitate furata... / stolen dignity...

de obicei nu cumpar flori. nu-mi place sa le vad taiate si odata uscate, mi-este greu sa le arunc la gunoi.
le ador insa afara, in natura. la fel in casa, plantate in ghivece. cat mai multe!
astazi am facut o exceptie. buchetele mici, aproape la fel de ofilite ca mainile ei, mi-au agatat privirile. aveau ceva de pasare speriata prinsa-ntre palme, intr-o fatala clipa de neatentie. la fel de gingase, la fel de frumoase.

am intrebat-o cu cat le vinde iar ea, ridicand inspre mine privirea batrana si totusi inca limpede, mi-a raspuns "cu cat vreti dumneavoastra". am scos o bancnota si i-am intins-o, primind in schimb buchetul mic de suflete legate strans laolalta. si pret de o clipa, mainile ni s-au atins. ale mele erau calde. ale ei, uscate si racoroase.

inapoi spre casa, drumul mi s-a parut mai lung...

I usually don't buy flowers. I hate to see them cut off and once dead, I find it very hard to throw them into the rubbish bin. but I adore them outside, in the nature. and also inside, planted into pots. the more the merrier!
today I made an exception. the small bouquets, almost as sear as her her hands were, caught my sight. there was something about them, like a frightened bird caught in the trap of one's palms in a fatal moment of carelessness. just as gentle, just as beautiful.

I asked her how much she's selling and with an old, but still lucid look, she answered "with how much you want". I took a bill and handed to her, receiving in exchange a small bouquet of souls tightly bound together. and for a transient second, our hands touched. mine were warm. hers, dry and coldish.

the way back home seemed somehow longer...

the remains of today

 aspiration... / nazuinta...

where do we go from here?... / de aici inspre mai departe...

flowers in the window (in old medieval part of Brasov)... / flori la fereasta (in centrul istoric al Brasovului)...

Octombrie 23

Gradina botanica, Bucuresti. Octombrie 23, 2005...

Tudor Gheorghe - Niciodata toamna

Mierla

Minunea unei intalniri, pret de o clipa. Moment de ragaz, intre aici si mai departe...

Din spatele geamurilor inchise, am impartasit, pentru scurt timp, aceeasi tacere.