There is a romance I have always found in my old, romanian village. A raw, sunburned beauty, with a ragged dress, stepping barefoot along with the polished shoes who visit her from the city.This girl that never wanted to grow up but stayed wild and free of any sign of progress.Bathing herself in wine and … Continue reading The land of the Mirabelle trees
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About All Sorts of Love
The world ends, numerous times, for each of us. It crashes and sinks under waves of agony. At the bottom, in a dense, ocean-like darkness, it catches glimpses of what would mean a new breath. And that alone is enough for a new beginning. The beauty of it all is the strong contrast. The paradox. … Continue reading About All Sorts of Love
Nothing
I am nothing, indeed. In front of the mountains and in front of the oceans that I've seen, I am nothing. The immensity of my soul, however, can conquer in some of the days, the depths of the skies and water. But I am nothing, really, because I can not put into words, just how … Continue reading Nothing
