Pe fereastră, peisaje de-ţi taie răsuflarea. Senzaţia e că te afli într-o ilustrată. Tu, personaj într-un tren, într-o vedere, aşa, încremenită în timp… Senzaţie de moarte frumoasă. N-o să uit clipele acelea de confuzie… Nu eram în rai, ci într-un album de artă…
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
I could have used the phrase as an epitaph on a chunk of stone or marble: ‘Tony Webster – He Never Got It’. But that would be too melodramatic, even self-pitying. How about ‘He’s On His Own Now’? That would be better, truer. Or maybe I’ll stick with: ‘Every Day Is Sunday’.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Corina, iubirea mea cea mare, nu-ți pot lăsa prea multe cuvinte. Tu mă vei trăi pe mine mult mai adînc și mai înalt decît am putut eu însumi să mă trăiesc.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Tels que les excréments chauds d’un vieux colombier
Mille Rêves en moi font de douces brûlures :
Doux comme le Seigneur du cèdre et des hysopes,
Je pisse vers les cieux bruns, très haut et très loin,
Avec l’assentiment des grands héliotropes. (Oraison du soir)
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Read from November 18th to December 13th 2012
While living under Ceausescu's regime, in those days that even today I'm not able to remember without a combination of sadness and irritation, I used to be very angry with Western Socialist and Communist Parties that dared to continue to exist in spite of the big revelations of the Gulags and the murders and the terror. I was thinking then that the persistence of such organizations could be explained either by a naive and blind idealism nurtured under the wing of a comfortable capitalist democracy, or else by a pragmatic acknowledgment of such horrors (errors happen!), since to protest against them would signify to deny the success of this ideology – meaning that the famous phrase, "The Party is never wrong" had the same power outside the communist countries it had inside them.Both my assumptions were, unfortunately, true, and are widely illustrated in Doris Lessing’s remarkable novel, The Golden Notebook; in a particularly significant scene, Michael, learning that three friends of him were hanged in Czechoslovakia,... explained, with much political subtlety, why it was impossible that the Party should frame and hang innocent people; and that these three had perhaps got themselves, without meaning to, into 'objectively' anti-revolutionary positions.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Friday, October 30, 2015
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
…no real revolution has ever been made against form. What counts is content, man, content.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Monday, October 19, 2015
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Friday, October 9, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
Despre îngerii uitării şi demonii rîsului
Friday, September 18, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
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