Monday, April 12, 2010
Time 10:02:42 AM GMT
SIBIU

IZ OLD odors of black tea …

I took a few pieces of will, I mixed evenly with a little sea water and then sat down quietly in the sun to ripen, the uniform uscindu for later … For that I was late when I meet I go to the mountains this year …

Last year I was in the mountains. Last year I went to the plateau … The Transylvanian Plateau … Above Sibiu, I climbed on the map … I stopped there for a few hours until I got good … forest DUMBRAVA depths where the fish you eat wet bread directly of hand … The tram station is born a paved path that takes you down, directly to Lake Forest Grove … The lake opened path left, right Zoo …
Yes, yes … I remember perfectly mixed with the lake smells of the zoo …

Next the trail turns to the left and green moisture is lost through the forest … Beyond that I was never wet … I was curious, but I got to get to scour depth alluring … I remained in memory, instead of feeling story forest full of mysteries and curiosities like … I know I lived, near the depth of a sense of deep reconciliation with itself, which she, in turn and live their reconciliation, thus contributing to peace my soul corollary young …

Near the lake right next to asphalt path was built on a promontory wooden benches which were placed some wood, surrounded by a railing of wood … Sunday, the place is filled with people come to recreate, in the immediate vicinity of the lake filled big fish … and the joy of eating their bread a lot, filled atmosphere of a royal breeze semiprecious stones beaten into them … not today … I looked up the lake water of a bluish gray-green shelter thousands of families of freshwater fish but and salt water … How is understood the two great families remained a mystery to me …

Later, walking distance to good fish are in right headland and a jetty for boats on Sunday. There were gathered hardworking, rowing boats, and pedal boats black colored board, pedal bicycles and chains as usual … had two-seater pedalos, rowing boats were rocked on the water surface of the lake and four color guide … simply stands screaming, all kinds of green brass stills, low odor and pastries with cheese and meat juices sfiriietoare, cotton candy sticks triangular cookies strange, beer mugs and yellow sour taste, complete the picture so dear to me now … Nowremembered when writing, state, images, feelings, sensations, sensitivity seen at the entrance of Forest Grove in Sibiu heart … I remember perfectly mixed with the lake smells of the zoo …

They just smell the scent of those old remembrance controlled, protect me in all the immensity of a life that I was not prepared to live consciously … but I push with inconceivable violence towards a separation of my most intimate feelings integrity …

… in the midst of which, I used to live today … but most of all I drink black tea mixed with two teaspoons of condensed milk on the brink of night, brought by the mother just in Moscow …

The case for thinking LINEAR SHORT …

Thursday, November 10, 2011
Time 10:51:19 AM GMT
Bucharest

The case for thinking LINEAR SHORT …

November I played up as a strange way … It started out as mild, pleasant fragrance mixed with decayed leaves and leaves but living … Coloured non-synthetic, natural color, I have great days, in increments of ten steps count harsh, fixed … still hoped to be a continuation of my senses that – summer. But it was not to be so … November this year is a little tired, a little sad and more devoid of bright thoughts …

I lowered the price of good few minutes … Starting block front yard, already burniteze more I held my head down cdecit other years … alleys around the block had wet … it had come in color and senses … People rush passed on sometimes shivering, but anyway darkened … People hurry and Romania are essentially uniformly sad. I am sad that forever. Nor have reason to be otherwise … A mixture of sadness wet, cold and gray, accompanying them as indestructible shade that you want to break up, forgetting the evils that you grind the inside … choke and you plug your nose and mouth , to nerespiratie … Cold. Everything is cold and the trees stand with your arms stretched toward the sky as a merciful and sincere prayer … I sat on a bench, even if it was wet … Who of me was still able to feel moisture … I watched, trying to think and especially to understand what happens to our world … piles of broken thoughts came in my broken front of mind … I could not articulate even one poor syllable of linear thinking … on cold raindrop sfichiuiala of November, clapped a oblique picture noimbrie sad, very sad …

Earth and grass left of the summer came to me in soothing whispers … „Come all! …Pass all !!… Move your thoughts, turn them !!… Between heaven and earth, my little world trying to penetrate impenetrable sense of bottomless pravalirii and hindrance … between heaven and earth … try to see the horizon lights of hope, which exists only in my mind ill after equilibrium and moral laws … the whole world Mix virtue, as a defect carousel as a huge garbage tulumba full of hypocrisy and lies just his head … It was raining and me without me is a little better … And the rain and cold Cheer me tell me when it will snow, it will warm up a bit … The clouds are closer to the earth, are closer to me … I feel as if I wanted, with minimum effort I could step on them, with them … I feel like I could float with them , above and above all … I just feel … I just feel …

Cold I light a cigarette. Suction deeply into the lungs with smoke nesatiu and dizzy moments and half price second … dizzy, closing my eyes and heart, and hope and pain and joy and linear thinking … I mixed with rain. And mix it with me … smoke … keeps us warm clouds of oblivion … Raul is lost somewhere in an unknown result …

Stalingrad 1942 – When I condemned all to death…

Stalingrad 1942 – We remember…

Stalingrad 1942 – White, White, Snow…

Stalingrad 1942 – Sweet Winter…

Sweet Winter…

Stalingrad – 1943 – Fierce fighting…

Stalingrad – 1943 – Hopeless battle…

Ambush…