preludiu pentru intuneric

..totusi candva timpul avea cocoasa
hmm..stateam asa lipiti de marginea secundelor


si credeam ca nu ma cunosti deloc
aparusera poeti ce purtau tristetea in lese pe langa noi

am obosit.
viata e scurta cat timp uitam unul de celalalt

banii.castelul de nisip care nu s-a prabusit inca.

...am invatat sa scriu pe bancile unei scoli de fitze din cotroceni si poate ca am fost supusa prea repede la granita asta ciudata intre saracie si bogatie...de parca niste hartii cu oameni morti te-ar face cumva mai bun

nu poti alege tara in care sa te nasti si casa in care iti vei face primii pasi..nu poti sa-ti alegi parintii si nici nu ai cum sa-i impiedici sa viseze ca prin tine sa realizeze tot ceea ce nu au putut face ei in trecut

din cauza fricii si a lacomiei iluzia banilor reuseste sa functioneze pentru miliarde de oameni, care inca isi imagineaza ca banii sunt ceva real...

fara sens

Multi spun ca nu uiti niciodata prima iubire,primul "te iubesc" furisat timid la ureche..primul sarut furat si prima noapte de dragoste..

ce te faci insa cand acesti primi "pasi" sunt indreptati catre cine nu trebuie?cand amintirile tale sunt acum doar povesti in care n-are rost sa mai crezi?

da ..e mult mai usor sa traiesti fara "bagaje"...dar asa n-ai sa afli niciodata ce inseamna sa fii cu adevarat fericit

nimic

nu exista adevar unic pentru ceea ce traiesti...nicio explicatie potrivita
ce sa faci...interpretezi "bine" povestea...sau pur si simplu mergi mai departe?
nimicul cu care unii pornesc in viata..poate oferi TOTUL

..pentru ca zambetul nu e decat in acest nimic ce-ti permite sa fii ceea ce vrei,sa te "inventezi" pe o pagina cu numele tau
cei care pornesc avand totul de cele mai multe se(te)distrug.

Andrew Sullivan on Michael Jackson Obituary

There are two things to say about him. He was a musical genius; and he was an abused child. By abuse, I do not mean sexual abuse; I mean he was used brutally and callously for money, and clearly imprisoned by a tyrannical father. He had no real childhood and spent much of his later life struggling to get one. He was spiritually and psychologically raped at a very early age - and never recovered. Watching him change his race, his age, and almost his gender, you saw a tortured soul seeking what the rest of us take for granted: a normal life.

But he had no compass to find one; no real friends to support and advise him; and money and fame imprisoned him in the delusions of narcissism and self-indulgence. Of course, he bears responsibility for his bizarre life. But the damage done to him by his own family and then by all those motivated more by money and power than by faith and love was irreparable in the end. He died a while ago. He remained for so long a walking human shell.

I loved his music. His young voice was almost a miracle, his poise in retrospect eery, his joy, tempered by pain, often unbearably uplifting. He made the greatest music video of all time; and he made some of the greatest records of all time. He was everything our culture worships; and yet he was obviously desperately unhappy, tortured, afraid and alone.

I grieve for him; but I also grieve for the culture that created and destroyed him. That culture is ours' and it is a lethal and brutal one: with fame and celebrity as its core values, with money as its sole motive, it chewed this child up and spat him out.

I hope he has the peace now he never had in his life. And I pray that such genius will not be so abused again.

22 de secrete(mai mult sau mai putin)

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R.I.P.

If tears could build a stairway
and if childhood memories were a lane
we would walk right up to heaven
and bring you back