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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2002-12-13 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Ne pierdem pasii (si umbra si dorurile)
pe caile imaginare ale sperantei - zapezi tainice ne uda ploaia (insetata de creatie) (si sufar ca nu scriu invers pe o foaie A4) sub nori grosi de fum de tramvai incins. toamna lunga si grea ca strigatul inecatului - nu-mi mai inec amarul - nu beau, nu fumez, nu fac sport - me mentin sub control necontrolata de manipulatori. printre perdele si flori de-atitea ori un semn de mirare - imi trebuie rabdare sa ajung la zid. Tu te-ai izbit. De cautare, de prea multa, am devenit indecis muta.
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